Page 126 of For Cowgirls and Kings

I don’t bother restraining the tears as they fall from my eyes, matching the storm outside the window. I couldn’t if I tried.

My phone buzzes next to my head, and I bolt out of bed. I don’t remember falling asleep, I’ve been turning in for hours. But I had, and now adrenaline pumps through my veins at the realization.

I’m leaving, in the middle of the fucking night, like a thief. I blink around my empty room, and then down at the small bag in the corner. Yesterday I carefully put a total of two boxes in the trunk of my old car, full of photos and essential items. I didn’t want to tip Papa off, and I couldn’t afford to take much else.

I’m starting over, and as painful as it is, I feel alive for the first time in years.

I stand, stumbling out of bed, fully dressed already. All I need is shoes.

Bending over to silently slip into the tennis shoes I placed there, I notice a folded note tucked into one. Grabbing it with shaky fingers, and using the flashlight on my phone, I open it, reading the two sentences written there, my father’s handwriting rushed across the paper.

Tears fill my eyes as I creep out the front door, making it nearly impossible to lock up behind me. They fall across my cheeks, hot and unchecked as I start the small engine, the whining filling the early morning silence blanketing our street. And they dry as I face into the rising morning sun, the horizon glistening as rays ripple over the lush green distance, and into my future.

May 5th, 2025

Walking back toward Mateo’s house, I wipe a stray tear from the top of my cheek before anyone has a chance to see it. The sky is a warm, deep blue, a thick breeze rustling through the trees and the feathers of a dozen chirping birds. It’s peaceful, much the opposite to the turmoil in my stomach, like a late night, Texas storm.

Mateo isn’t back yet, but textedthat he would be here shortly to get ready for our dinner plans with Stetson, Faith, and Gus. I walk into the house, feeling more out of place than I have since the first day he brought me here. I pause, taking in the grandeur of the entryway, the wooden staircase, and the memories that crowd every corner.

And then I take the stairs two at a time, walking into the room down the hall from the one I’ve spent every night in for months, spread out next to my best friend, where all my belongings are strewn about.

Queen Tut purrs as I enter the room, lifting his large orange fluffy head off the comforter just enough to acknowledge me before closing his eyes once more, tail tapping. He’s so happy here, and the thought of taking him away is nearly enough to stop me once more.

But I have to do this.

With shaky fingers, I pull my wallet out of my purse hanging over the chair in the corner. In the inner pocket, I feel around for the worn paper I know is folded inside. With a deep breath, I pull it out, reading the words I know by heart.

And just like they did all those years ago, the words tell me exactly what I have to do.

FORTY-FIVE

ADALENE

May 5th, 2025

Mateo’s handengulfs mine across the center console of his truck, squeezing lightly, effectively landing me right back in the dream I wish was reality. I blink, clearing my mind of the sad haze, and turn to face him with a small smile.

His eyes narrow a second before turning back towards the road racing ahead of us. It blurs in my periphery, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the mouth watering view that is Mateo’s side profile. He looks cut from stone, hard lines and edges each more delicious than the next, and I ache to touch him. Scratch that, kiss him.

Fuck, I’d settle for rubbing my desperate, aching pussy on any one of those angular ridges of his face.

I scrunch my nose, still unable to turn my eyes away—I sound like a dog in heat.Which is probably an accurate description given that the man is constantly in my space,and mind,and the reality that I may never have him again sinks like a rock in my stomach.

What if this is my last chance?

Feeling the ache blossom from my heart, traveling down my veins like a poison, and settling low in my belly, I shiver.

I want him. And I’m going to have him now or I might just die.

“If you keep looking at me like that—” His words teeter off, as if he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. I wish he would though.

“You’ll what, Mateo?” I ask, making a show of continuing to stare hungrily at his profile, running my tongue seductively over my lips. His eyebrow raises, and he peeks at me from the corner of his eye. Catching me obviously ogling him, his mouth quirks to the side, as he fights a smirk.

Is he as desperate as I am, or has he finally had his fill?

Feeling more feral by the second, I unfasten my seatbelt, and an insistent dinging fills the cab. I ignore it, getting on my knees on the seat, lifting the center console to slide next to him.

“Dale, what are you—” I slide my hand up his thigh, and his sentence ends on a hiss. His breathing becomes choppy, like he can’t focus enough to suck in real breaths, and I pray it’s because he wants me as bad as I want him still.