Page 140 of Then You Happened
I ignore the sting the memory brings. I’ve gotten good at ignoring the pangs over the past few months, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less when I do think about him.
“The owner’s coming to pick him up today.”
“Name?” I ask so I can put it in my records.
“Next time.”
“What did you say?” I ask, my attention snapping up to meet Will’s eyes.
“Next Time. That’s the name of the ranch that bought the horse.”
I blink back the tears that well in my eyes as I stare at the clipboard. Emotion swells within me at the coincidence.
62
JACK
“Next Time. That’s the name of the ranch that bought the horse.”
I hear Will say the words, but it’s Tate I stare at as I stand just outside the stable.
She turns slowly to Will, as if she’s in shock. There isn’t any way she would know that I renamed the ranch now that it’s mine to do with as I please.
Her back is to me, but that small frame of hers stands tall as her head hangs forward while she writes something on her clipboard. Her hair is swept up, exposing that neck I’ve longed to press my lips to. She has a flannel on to fight off the chill of the afternoon, and from what I can see over the gate she’s standing behind, it looks as if she’s swimming in it.
It’s then that I realize it’s my flannel. It’s my shirt she’s wearing.
And there’s something about seeing it that steadies the ground beneath me.
But her—the sight of her, being near her—makes every agonizing minute of the past four months dissipate.
“Do you have a problem with the name of my ranch, Knox?”
Her body jolts at the sound of my voice. The hitch of her breath is audible as she turns to face me in what feels like slow motion.
Gray eyes meet mine. Her chin quivers, and her lips tremble before they curve up into a guarded smile. “Jack?” My name on her lips is like a goddamn knife to my heart.
“I didn’t fight hard enough for you, Tate. I told you to fight hard for what you wanted. For this ranch. For the people in town to see the real you . . . but when the rubber met the road with you and me, I didn’t fight hard enough for you. I didn’t prove to you that I was worth it. That our love was worth it.”
“Jack,” she says my name again, and panic hits me when I see tears begin to slide down her cheeks. Silently.
She’s going to push me away.
She’s moved on.
She doesn’t love me anymore.
“No. Don’t, Tate.” I take another step toward her, desperate to say and prove and do whatever the fuck it takes not to walk out of this stable without her knowing how I feel. Without resolving this somehow. “You have to hear me out. You have to—”
“Jack.” She hiccups a sob and before I can think what to say or do next, we are in each other’s arms.
She is right where I need her to be.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”
“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs against my chest as her tears wet my shirt. “I couldn’t tell you—I didn’t know how to—Jack—”
Her words hit my ears, and I shock to reality because what I thought was going to be a reunion doesn’t sound like one by the apology on her lips.
