Page 87 of One Last Rodeo

No. There's nofucking waythat she'd do that to me so soon. I was just inside her. I was just touching her this morning. I was licking her pussy and fucking it rough the way she likes. My come is probably still dripping out of her. Her taste is still on my tongue.

I get that we never hadthe talk. We never sat and labeled whatever the hell was happening between us. But I thought we were friends, at least. I thought there was mutual respect. I thought what we shared meant something beyond the physical.

She lets me finish inside her. Lets me mark her in ways a person doesn’t do casually. She spent time with my grandma and saw the places that mean the most to me. She painted my fucking fingernails to match hers. She fixed my damn heart.

She wouldn’t do this to me.

But all I can see is little Louisa—me tugging her braids while she laughs and tells me I can’t even read a sentence straight without mixing up letters and numbers. That when we're older, and we get cellphones, she won't give me her phone number because I'll type it in wrong and text someone else.

That familiar, humiliating burn of being replaceable and never chosen first fills my throat. I shove my chair back and gesture at my drink.

“Gonna grab something from inside.”

Then I’m gone—stomping away while the conversation continues to roll on behind me. Warm laughter. Easy joy. The California sunset painting everything in sepia and gold. It’s a moment I should be part of. Sitting at the table. Laughing. Letting myself believe I belong with her family. Instead, all I see is red. The same color of my fucking blood.?

I slide open the glass door and step into the house, kicking off my boots by the door before heading straight for the kitchen. There’s a pitcher of margaritas and one of sweet tea sitting out on the counter. I choose the margaritas. My first taste of alcohol in over a year.

Fuck the surgery. Fuck my heart. What’s the point in keeping it healthy when Catalina’s going to destroy it anyway?

I pour a glass, sniff it, wince at the burn, then down it anyway. It scorches the whole way. I immediately regret it.

I’m just setting the glass down when the door slides open again.

“Oh,” Catalina says, startled when she sees me. “I didn’t realize you were in here.”

I press my palms flat into the cool counter and hang my head.

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised too.”

It’s quiet. I can’t even look at her, but I can feel her eyes on the side of my face.

“Okay… I’m going to use the restroom.”

She tries to dart past me, but I don’t let her. I shift, using my size to block the hallway. She must smell the tequila because her eyes widen then sharpen immediately.

“Move out of the way, Jensen,” she says calmly.

“No.” My voice comes out rough. “Are you really going on a double date with June?”

She doesn’t answer. Her eyes aren’t the soft, honey brown I’ve memorized. They’re colder now. Harder. Professional.

‘From now on I’ll be nothing but Doctor Alba to you.’

When she doesn’t answer me, I keep going. “You’re really going to do that to me?”To us.I don’t say the second part.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I thought I mattered.”

She lifts her chin. “You were a friend. That’s all.” She swallows. “Friends don’t do what you did, so now, you’re not even that.”

She tries to step around me again, but I catch her wrist.

“Hey.” My voice is tight and frayed. “I don’t get why you’re so mad at me. Maybe I’m mad at you too. Did you consider that?”

She yanks her hand free like my touch burns. “I don’t care. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t do anything wrong?!” I roar. “You fucking threw thisall away over a misunderstanding. I didn’t ask Dawson for that consult!”