Page 134 of Buckin' Around

“I’ll ask to submit the last paper remotely. Extenuating circumstances or something.”

“No. Riley, what’s this about? What extenuating circumstances? Is everything okay at home?”

Her brow snaps to a frown.

“This, Spencer! It’s too much. I can’t do this any more. I can’t pretend like this is real and we’ll live happily ever after. My family needs me?—”

A sob steals whatever was going to come next.

I hook my arm around her waist and tug her into my space. My head meets her belly as she huffs through a handful of strained breaths.

I take in a long, wobbly inhale and stand.

Cradling her head into my chest, I hold her while she cries. Screams. Thunders her fists into my body.

Heat prickles behind my eyes as she lets it out. Like I’m always telling her to. This is my little fiery woman processing. My jaw feathers as the first tear slides down my cheek.

This is breaking both our hearts, and I have no idea how to make any of this work out where we both get what we need. My income is here. I have loose ends to iron out, to sort out mine and Ivy’s life. Riley’s family is in Northern Ireland. Neither of us can survive without either.

I would never ask her to go without her family.

Mine may be slightly shady, but hers is her whole life.

Chapter 32

Riley

After a rough day yesterday, with emotions running high, Spencer, Ivy, and I ride along in the truck into the fields of Brady’s ranch.

“Do you know where you’re going?” I ask.

Spencer glances at me as we bump along a narrow dirt road by a fence, heading for the hills at the back of the property.

He grins. “Kind of?”

The picnic basket and blanket sit on the back seat by Ives, and she is hell-bent on grabbing the basket, her little fingers stretching for it every few minutes.

Good luck, baby girl. It’s out of reach for a reason.

The truck lurches on a pothole the size of a small planet, and I grab the door handle.

“Sorry, babe,” Spence rasps.

He’s been quiet today.

I guess yesterday was a lot.

This tug-of-war in my heart is more than I can cope with. My chances of survival when I step onto that departing flight... well, I don’t like them, but sometimes you just do what you have to do.

Right.

We turn after driving through an opening in the fence that hosts a sagging, rusty gate, and a lake bordered with trees comes into view at the foot of the highest hill.

“Wow,” I breathe.

Spencer grips the wheel with both hands, craning his neck over it. “Damn, it has been an age since I was here.”

“You come here often?” I wink at him.