Page 6 of Sunday's Best

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I bite the inside of my lip, blinking up at him.

The moon’s bright tonight, casting pale light across his harsh features, making him appear even more hostile than usual. Didn’t know that was possible.

“Are you going back home now?” The question’s gruff and cold. No doubt he’s been waiting for an opportunity to shove me out the door.

I should go home. I’ve seen all I needed to see, and I’m tired of giving Logan more chances he doesn’t deserve. It’s been a week. Two rodeos. There was never a chance in hell he would remain faithful for the entire summer, and I don’t have it in me to start the clock again.

“Yeah.” I sniffle. “Yeah, I’ll get out of here in the morning.”

The muscle in his cheek pops in and out. “And what? Take a long bus ride home? The guy beside you isn’t going to want to listen to you ugly-cry while he’s trying to eat egg salad out of a plastic bag. You might end up getting your snot in it.”

Despite myself, I blow a weak laugh from my nose and rush to wipe the back of my hand underneath it.

Holden lifts a brow to say, “See?”

“I’m done crying about Logan.” I silently will my tear ducts to stop acting up. They don’t exactly cooperate, but at least the tears are staying put along my lower lash line instead of streaming down my face. “And I happen to love egg salad.”

An uptick at the corner of his mouth sends a rush of heat through my body that is so very, very wrong. The way his thumb is still absent-mindedly petting my arm isn’t helping, either. There’s a familiar, lascivious pull in my core, and my boyfriend has nothing to do with it—his brother does.

I already knew it wasn’t particularly healthy to learn about relationships from the revolving step-dads my mom brought into my life, but I’m having a bit of an epiphany right now: I’m really fucked up. Why are men always more attractive when they want nothing to do with me?

“I give you an hour on the bus before you’re bailing at some random stop in a shitty small town.”

“You underestimate how much smut I have loaded on my Kindle. I can keep myself entertained for hours.”

“I bet you can, angel, but I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing that on public transportation.” He squeezes just above my elbow and winks at me.

“Wha—oh. Gross, Holden. That’s not what I meant.” I fight my grin, but it wins. As much as I hate giving Holden the satisfaction of knowing he said something funny, I’m happy to be done crying about his stupid brother.

Looking awfully pleased with himself, he shrugs. “I mean… egg salad guy might appreciate it more than you crying. Just make sure you sit in the back row so you have privacy.”

“There will be no crying or… other inappropriate behavior on the bus.” Glancing up to the starry sky, I exhale. “I’ll book a ticket in the morning, if you don’t mind dropping me off on your guys’ way out of town.”

Silence follows, and all the pricks of excitement between my thighs stop. I consider telling him to go fuck himself. I know he doesn’t like me, but he’s not even willing to go a tiny bit out of his way to drop me off at a bus stop?

“Look…” He sighs. “If you break up with Logan, he’s gonna spiral, and it’ll fuck up our entire season. We’re on a bit of a winning streak right now, so what if you don’t break up⁠—”

Suddenly, I’m angry about his hands on my skin. The comforting touch was placation. “You want me to keep dating your asshole brother because of your winning streak?”

“I don’t want you to keep dating him…” Something dark flashes across his face, and he finally—finally—lets go of his hold on me. The sudden loss has me wobbly on my feet. “But I also don’t want to rock the boat… okay? If you break up with him, he’ll be drinking way more, sleeping less… he’ll be a fucking mess.”

“And you think I’ll keep him in line?” Laughable. If I was any good at that, he wouldn’t have been cheating on me for the entirety of our relationship.

“I know you don’t give a shit about doing anything for me…”

Got that right.

“At the end of this summer…” Holden looks around to confirm we’re alone. “I’m quitting. I’ve been leading the occasional trail ride for a guest ranch back home for a while, and they offered me a stable manager position. I want to be home… maybe have a family one day or something. I’m tired of chasing rodeos around the country for nine months out of the year. I haven’t told Logan yet, and I know he isn’t going to take it well… I really don’t want to fuck up our last season roping together, Sunday.”

His shoulders fall with a heavy exhale, and it reminds me of the way some of my students drop the weight of a hard homelife when they step into class. When all I want to do is wrap them up in a big hug and do everything in my power to take their worries away.

That said, this is Holden we’re talking about, so the tip of my tongue is coated in snarky comments about him working in a customer service field and about him thinking I’d want to help him out. But he looks so vulnerable, all I muster up is, “Oh.”

“You don’t have anything sarcastic to say?”

Well, since he asked…

“Sorry, I’m just having a hard time picturing you in any type of customer service role. Do the guests know you’re plotting their demise the whole time?”