Page 23 of And Forever (The Riders and Rings Duology #2)

CHARLOTTE

EVERS RIDGE, MONTANA — LATE AUGUST

I pull on Rooney’s reins, urging my horse to stop at the side of the arena.

We’re both breathing hard, but he’s quicker to settle as I ease him around to walk out the remaining energy.

I tip my head back, taking off my hat and giving my hair a shake, regretting the decision to leave it down instead of braiding it.

But I couldn’t risk taking the time to do it before I slipped out of the cottage in the steel gray of early morning.

The sun still hasn’t come above the horizon line, but the riding ring is drenched in the peach-pink light of sunrise, and the heat of the day is slowly crawling across the meadow.

I’ve had Rooney out here for at least an hour.

I fan my face as I try to calculate how many more runs I can do before trying to sneak back.

I left Wilder sleeping and Winona at my parents’ place, where she spent the night.

It’s the fourth time since we got back from Idaho that I’ve managed to bring Rooney out to race while the rest of the ranch sleeps.

“You’re only point seven off your time from last week.”

I startle in the saddle, the hat tumbling from my fingers when Wilder walks out from a shadowy spot next to an ancient bur oak tree.

He tucks his phone into his back pocket, long legs eating up the space until he rests his arms over the top rail and hooks a boot on the bottom one.

I swing out of my perch, letting Rooney’s leads drop.

He shuffles over to the trough for a drink of water, and I pick up my hat.

I brush the dust off as I cross to the cowboy who’s giving me a soft smile from under a chocolate-brown Resistol hat.

I freeze in my tracks, forgetting that Wilder was timing me.

Wilder’s eyes flicker from my face to the brim of the familiar hat and back.

He’s wearing Travis’ hat, and my heart squeezes painfully from the significance.

Before I can blink away the tears that pool in my eyes, Wilder dips between the railings and wraps his arms around me.

With my cheeks held between his hands, he uses his thumbs to brush away the few tears that escaped.

He drops his forehead to mine and we hold each other, the silence saying everything we need it to.

“You want to tell me why you’ve been sneaking off to ride, Charlie?” He draws back to give me a quizzical look, and his hands come back around my waist. There isn’t an ounce of accusation in his question, just a yearning to understand, and I can’t blame him for it.

Talking about how much I’ve missed my time in competition is one thing.

Actively practicing is another. But after the rodeo in Idaho, the need I’ve fought against for so long became painful.

The longing turned into a denial of the part of myself I tried to ignore.

It scares me to want it, especially with Wilder’s reaction to the environment.

So I’ve told myself that this will be enough—just challenging myself and Rooney is all I need.

“It’s nothing.” I shrug. Wilder’s eyes narrow. “The rodeo made me nostalgic. Besides, Rooney could use the work. I think he gets bored.”

“Baby, we don’t lie to each other.”

It’s a gentle admonishment, but a pointed reminder.

I lean against his chest, too afraid to look at him when I speak.

“I miss it, Wild. I miss it so much, it’s like a part of me doesn’t exist anymore.

And I thought I was okay without it. I thought I didn’t need it anymore, but I think I do.

And that scares the shit out of me because I don’t want to hurt you; I saw what being at the rodeo did to you. ”

My shoulders slump with relief after my confession, but I sag a little in his strong arms. Wilder hugs me tighter, kissing the top of my head and inhaling a deep breath.

“I know you do.” He keeps me close, working the tangles loose in my hair.

It’s falling past my shoulders again for the first time since Winona was a month old.

“Being on the back of a horse, turning and burning, is as much a part of you as this jet-black hair or those gem-like eyes that kill me when they’re full of tears.

It’s the other side of who you are when you’re not kissing boo-boos on our baby girl’s knees.

” He angles my head, so I have no choice but to look at him. “And I fucking love it. I love you. ”

“But—”

“No, Charlie.” Wilder’s eyes bore into mine, strikingly blue and resolute. I gulp a little at their ferocity, but his voice is soft when he says, “You want to ride? I’ll learn how to be by your side. You want to rodeo? I’ll pack your rig and call you every day.”

I can’t help the choked sob that gurgles out of my throat. I’m so overwhelmed by the confidence Wilder has in me and the selfless way he wants to see me do this. “Winona?—?”

“I’m going to make sure she’s front and center when you win another championship in Las Vegas.” I’m crying again, and Wilder is wiping away every tear but smiling at me all the same. “Our baby girl is going to see what it means to watch her mama go after her dreams.”

Wilder wraps his arms around me again, letting me cry out my love and relief in great heaving sobs.

All the while, he soothes and holds me, whispering encouragement and understanding.

After I hiccup through the last of my tears and attempt to subtly deal with my messy face against his shirt, we’re broken apart by Rooney.

My horse has us laughing as he wedges his large head between us.

I reach up to hold onto his head collar, giving his velvet nose a nuzzle.

“What do you think, sweet boy, want to hit the road again?” I ask the question, knowing that any concerns I have are fading or will be easily addressed.

I don’t need to think about who will take care of Winona because he’s standing right in front of me, stroking Rooney’s flank and cooing his enthusiastic appreciation.

“Wait.” A realization hits me as I finally settle my hat back on my head. “How long have you known?”

“Baby, I’ve been timing you since the first morning you snuck out.” The old, familiar smirk spreads across his face. “That’s how I know you need to work on the second turn.”

“You damn cocky cowboy.”

“Get your ass on the horse, Charlie.” Wilder points when I make a move toward him. “We’ve got maybe thirty minutes before that tiny terror we love so much comes streaking out of your parents’ house, wondering where we are. Let’s go.”

I arrive at Ada’s place in town just as dusk deepens to an inky violet.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, highlighting the brightest stars that are just beginning to twinkle over her adorable two-bedroom house.

It’s situated a few blocks from the town center and only three from the primary practice she works at.

I park on the driveway that curves into the backyard, where light spills from the additional seven-hundred-square-foot building she uses to run the midwifery clinic she opened last year.

As I close up my vehicle, Ada steps from the door, locking it behind her.

“This is it, isn’t it?” She walks slowly toward me, a look on her face that I don’t recognize, but before I can try to understand, she gives me a firm hug.

I’m shaking my head in confusion, just about to ask her what she means, when she backs up and pulls me toward the house.

“You can tell me all about leaving me, in here. ”

Pushing through the back door, I follow Ada to the kitchen, where she has a collection of ingredients out on the small butcher block island.

Ada’s home is much like her: warm, inviting, and lacking anything unnecessary.

I used to worry about bringing Winona here, afraid she would move something out of place, but just because Ada has things where she wants them doesn’t mean she lacks the awareness and need for flexibility.

It’s what makes her a damn good nurse and midwife, too.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I finally protest as Ada washes her hands at the sink, a laugh bubbling out of her as I sit at the four-person round dining table just across from the island.

“Yet.” She looks pointedly over her shoulder. After turning off the faucet and reaching for a towel, she gives me a kind smile. “You’re not going anywhere, yet, babe.”

“I love him, Ada. He’s Winona’s father,” I start, hands spread out before me in supplication.

I don’t know why I feel the need to defend a decision that hasn’t fully been made, especially to my best friend.

Sensing my turmoil, Ada takes three strides and takes my hands before sinking into the chair next to me.

“And that means you belong with him. No justification necessary.” She squeezes gently, imbuing me with her support. I clutch back, so grateful that sometimes we don’t need words to know what we want to say. The moment hangs bittersweet between us. Then, Ada nods once and rises from her chair.

“I’m not saying goodbye tonight,” I insist, standing to follow Ada back to the kitchen when she waves away my words.

She situates a cutting board on the counter and begins working on dicing an onion with precise, methodical strokes.

I reach across the island for the cloves of garlic, waiting.

I begin peeling them, expediting things for her, and change the topic.

“I’ve been working Rooney in the ring. I think I want to race again. ”

“Better tighten up that second turn if that’s your plan.” Ada smirks as she pauses long enough to look at me.

“Did I manage to keep it a secret from anybody?” I sigh, flicking my fingers to rid myself of a stubborn piece of the clove’s skin. The repetitive sound of the knife against the cutting board picks up again as Ada laughs over it.

“Coop texted me about it earlier.”

“Oh, did he? How long have y’all been on a texting basis?

” I try to get the attention onto her, but Ada’s not having it.

She easily sidesteps my taunting by walking the chopped onion to the stove, where a pan is sitting over the burner.

With a few twists of the knob, the blue flames jump to life, and Ada dumps the onion to sizzle.

“How do your parents feel about all of this?” She takes the naked clove and starts mincing again. Deflecting, I go to the pan, grabbing a spatula to move the onions around, ensuring they don’t burn.

“They were on the back porch when I left the ring this morning.” I focus on the way the onion sweats until the pieces start to turn translucent. “For the first time in my life, they gave me their blessing to pursue the rodeo. No strings attached. Dad’s going to offer my job to Cooper.”

“And moving to Idaho?” Ada steps up and adds the garlic to the pan before spinning around to the fridge, pulling out the next ingredients.

“Wilder wanted to speak to them about it.” I flick my eyes up and back to the pan, my stomach swooping a little. “Said he owed them a conversation after being hired this summer.”

Ada wraps an arm around my shoulder, dropping her head to rest on top of mine, and I loop my empty arm around her waist.

“Riding off into the sunset with the cowboy who stole your heart,” Ada sighs wistfully. “Exactly how it should be.”