Page 68 of Roping My Rival

Stabbing at my salad, I shovel it into my mouth to stop myself from asking all the questions. Maybe I just need to allow this thing between us to fizzle out. He’s told me about his sister, and I know money is tight, but there’s something sad and wrong for Dane. I’m not usually a fixer, but with Dane…fuck, I want to wrap him up and help more than anything.

Not just because life is hard and unfair, but because I see more than the asshole who used to taunt me after he won.

“I feel like you don’t trust me like I trust you.”

Oops. It kind of just came out, but that’s what’s bothering me, so now it’s out there.

He sighs again and hangs his head, pushing the lettuce around his bowl.

“I do, Warren. I trust you more than anyone in my life, okay? Believe that.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

When he finally meets my gaze, I almost shoot across the table to apologize and kiss away that pained look on his face.

“I can’t right now. Can you just…” He swallows as he pushes up from the table. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

After grabbing his hat from the hook by the door, he exits the camper and clicks the door shut behind him without another word. The timer on the oven beeps, and I pull out the lasagna to cool before flopping back down at the table.

Why is it so hard to tell someone you care about how you really feel?

After slicing a piece of lasagna, I plate a second piece for Dane in case he comes back soon, and I eat alone.

It’s the only time Pops’ lasagna has ever been tasteless.

It’s close to midnight when Dane returns, and my first instinct is to yell at him and tell him I’ve been worried sick that he’s been gone so long without a word.

I almost do.

Until I see him at the doorway of the bedroom with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Wordlessly, I stand and open my arms, and he collapses against me. His fingers claw into my back as he holds me so tight it hurts to breathe.

It feels like we stay that way for hours until Dane finally speaks.

“I’m sorry, Warren. I don’t know how to…to do any of this or what to say.”

“Say nothing then. I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried when it got dark, and you didn’t come back.”

He finally lets go and steps back. “I shouldn’t have made you worry. I just needed some space.”

“It’s okay.”

“Um…do you think I could still have lasagna? I know it’s cold, but—”

“I’ll heat it on the stove for you. You can get ready for bed while I do that. I don’t mind.”

Dane nods and, after grabbing his shave kit, heads to the bathroom. Warming a pan on the stovetop, I drop the slice I cut for him earlier in the pan and cover it with a lid. The running water sounds from the bathroom, and I return the dining table to its position, along with the cushions that collapse to make it a second bed. If he’s staying here with me, he’s sharing my bed.

I don’t know where my sudden stubbornness over what Dane does or doesn’t do comes from, but I don’t care.

When he exits from the bathroom, the exhaustion on his face nearly breaks me.

“Sit. Careful, it might be hot.” He sits at the table and cuts into the lasagna while I pour him a glass of water from the jug in the fridge. After setting it in front of his plate, I take the seat across from him because I don’t just want to go back to bed. I want him to be okay.

I want us to be okay.

That feeling has been getting harder to ignore since I saw him arguing with that man. I could say it’s because I have a vested interest in his well-being for our team roping, but that’s a lie. It’s way more than that.

“Gabe makes a great lasagna,” Dane says after inhaling half of it. “Thank you for this.” He drinks down half the water glass before returning to his plate.