Page 123 of For Cowgirls and Kings

“I should get something to clean you up,” I whisper, suddenly very conscious of the fact we were no doubt overheard.

Dale turns to me, pulling her legs beneath her before patting the space beside her. “Lay with me, just for a second.”

Crawling into the space beside her, I stretch out, and Dale lays down, her leg slug over my own. Our sweat mingles, making our skin sticky, but I can’t be bothered to care. She rests her head over my heart, her face flushed, curls damp at hertemples. And I watch her eyes flick back and forth, no doubt a million thoughts racing in her own mind.

For the first time ever, I think Dale might just be willing to walk away. She might have heard all my insecure thoughts and feelings and took them as truth, when they couldn’t have been more of a lie. I said everything I thought I should say, when they couldn’t have been farther from how I felt.

What if she believes me? What if she thinks I don’t want her?

That thought alone makes me pull her tighter to me. A gentleman would let her go, but I’m done being a gentleman—it’s never once done me any good.

I’ll give up anything, destroy anyone, to keep Dale. And then I’ll prove to her for the rest of time I’m the one who will protect her, make her happy, love her the way she deserves.

FORTY-FOUR

ADALENE

May 5th, 2025

The scentof fresh shavings and horse sweat tingles against my nostrils, and I allow it to permeate my very being. The sounds of nickering horses and munching grain filters to my ears as I enter the enormous stalls, and I pause still struck by the absolute grandeur of the stable.

Mateo’s horse stables are big enough to be my entire house, and probably cost five times as much. Not to mention the horses, the tack—it’s all over the top and showy, and as I’ve spent time with Mateo these last months, I’m beginning to realize he doesn’t care for such things.

So why does he continue to keep up appearances?

Pausing, I reach out a hand to run it over the soft white stripe of the gelding Mateo took me riding on—Childers, his head slung over the gate, eyes large as saucers as he watches me. He stops mid chew, flecks of grain stuck to his soft nose as if he’s afraid to spook me, which is just a complete oxymoron. Horses are the most easily spooked creatures on the planet, and yet this guy is acting like I’m the one that’s going to balk.

It’s not his fault—everyone sees me that way. Which couldn’t be farther from how I feel on the inside. I wanteveryone to treat me as they did before. I feel strong and sturdy—more so than I’ve ever felt. Yes, I endured horrible trauma, but I genuinely think I’m better for it. My time in the darkness allowed me to realize how strong I was, and what I wanted from this life.

And I’m sure as fuck not going to get it hiding in Mateo’s castle.

The truth is, I haven’t seen much of Mateo this last month—he’s been busy working, gone several nights in a row. Which hasn’t been all bad. It’s allowed me the space to see things in a less rosy pink light, snuggle Tut until he screams, and get drunk during the day with Faith on wine I still can’t pronounce the name of.

It’s been fun.

But it’s also been fake.I’m not really healing—moving on—because I’m stuck in fairytale land, a fairytale princess who’s biggest grievance is running out of snacks, with a fairytale love story that just can’t work out.

Mateo and I might be dancing on that line between loving each other like friends, andloving each other as more, but it’ll never work. No matter how we feel. Not the way things are.

I need to return to my life, find out where I belong in the world again, stake my claim and fight for what I want. And even though I want Mateo, I can’t have him. He’s a crutch, a safety blanket, a wall between me and the real world.

I’ve wanted a good relationship with my mother every day of my life, and I still don’t have that. That should be lesson enough—things don’t work out simply because we want them to. Sometimes the stars really do have to align. And there’s no universe where a king ends up with a school teacher.

Even if we do love each other.

The horse nickers, his fuzzy lip rubbing against my palm and I refocus my attention on him, instead of the constantthread of insecurities—and certainties—circulating in my brain.

“You’re a handsome fella aren’t you?”

His ears flick back and forth, eyes dark but warm as they stare straight into me. I scratch beneath his forelock, right over a small white swirl and he leans forward, his approval evident.

“Oh to be a spoiled horse living in a stable like this. Never having to worry about what’s next, or where your next meal will come from.” I lean forward, whispering, “Don’t have to worry about fickle things like feelings.”

He doesn’t move or blink, as if trying to telepathically tell me everything will be alright.But how can that be?I either have to give up myself, or the man I’ve come to love. What kind of choice is that?

“Things just aren’t fair,” I continue, running my hand to the tip of his nose before dropping it. Before I have a chance to step away, he bobs his head, his nose bumping against my chin—I can almost hear him saying “cheer up,” and I shoot him a small smile.

Life’s full of unfair choices, and even though I’ve endured things no person should have to even dream about, I know the hardest one I’ll ever have to make looms before me.