Page 54 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

He stops to swallow hard. I wait, my hand itching to reach for him again, but not quite daring to.

“I walked away from riding after that. Everything I’d worked for since I was a kid. Didn’t matter anymore.” A rough exhale. “All I wanted was to be there for him.”

The laugh that follows is sharp and empty. “He idolized her, you know? Of course, the version he saw of her. So, as he got older, the anger came and I just took it.”

My heart aches with every word.

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth about her?” I ask gently.

“Because then, it all unravels.” He takes a quick swig from the bottle, holding it in his mouth for a beat before swallowing. “One question leads to another. And I couldn’t risk him finding out I’m not his father.” He clears his throat, dropping his voice. “So I take it. All of it. Let him think what he needs to think. Let him hate me if that makes it easier for him.”

He brings the bottle to his lips again, pauses just before it touches them. “As long as he’s standing, I can live with being the person he blames.”

Then he drinks. Taking a long, heavy pull this time.

“Wade…” My voice is barely a whisper as I take the hand resting on his knee.

“I keep my distance to protect him but also protect myself.” His breath hitches. “Because every conversation is a reminder of how much he hates me. How much he wishes I wasn’t his father.” His eyes drop. “And I can’t fix that. So yeah… it’s easier this way, Maeve.”

I sit there holding his hand, my mind reeling with everything.

As much as I don’t agree with keeping such an integral part of someone’s life from them, I understand now.

Understand how much love Wade has for Colt. How he’s absorbed all that hate and anger because he thought it was kinder than the alternative. Sacrificing their relationship to shield Colt from that pain.

Because even I know Colt wouldn’t heal from this. Not for a long time, anyway.

I don’t know what to do with all this. How to feel.

But one thing I do know is that the man in front of me loves Colt with everything he has. Just like I suspected.

“Wade.”

I shift forward, shifting in front of him until we’re eye to eye. Up close, he looks nothing like the man with the rock-hard exterior marching around the ranch like he owns the place—which, fair, he does.

He looks raw. Tired. Like years of carrying all this alone have worn him down piece by piece.

Guilt settles in as I look at him. I never really stopped to think what dragging all this back up might do to him. I just stormed over here with my theories and my anger, instead of minding my own fucking business.

Maybe I wanted to dig up his secret to find a reason to hate him. Something concrete that would make it easier to stop whatever this strange, terrifying thing between us is.

Instead, I found the opposite. Which is deeply inconvenient, because apparently, the emotionally unavailable cowboy getting emotional only makes me want him more.

Brilliant. Absolutely excellent work, Maeve.

Reaching out, I cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the tears still sliding down his cheeks.

Our eyes meet, and everything else falls away.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper. “I'm so sorry. I had it all wrong.”

His hand comes up to cover mine where it rests against his face, warm and rough, and trembling slightly.

“I can see what this is doing to you.” My voice catches. “You don’t have to keep holding all of this in on your own. I’m here, if you want to talk. Just… let it out, yeah?”

Something shifts in his expression. His other hand slides around the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair.

And before I can even take a breath registering his touch, his lips crash into mine.