Page 65 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

FORTY-NINE

ADALENE

My car's engine wheezes off, the dust outside seeming to settle on the interior just as thickly. It’s a blistering summer day, the temperature already well into the hundreds, and I attempted to dress accordingly.

Although it’s not my cut off shorts and a low-tank top, you’re not supposed to dress like that as a teacher, the light T-shirt and gym shorts I’m wearing will have to do.

A second car pulls up beside me, and I turn to wave at the kids piling out of the truck, their faces pink with heat and excitement.

The innocence of youth is something I envy.

Before they have a chance to get too far ahead, I jump out, jogging behind the girls all filing toward the barn.

The air is full of excited chatter, and I pause only to throw a wave at the retreating parents over my shoulder.

“You girls been practicing?” I ask, and a chorus of yes’s and mmhmms fills their conversation.

“This is cool that we get to do this, Men!” Reiny’s cheerful voice makes me smile. She’s like her sister in many ways—always smiling, always cheerful, always polite and composed—it’s nice to see her excited over something for once.

“It was your sister’s idea,” I offer, and Reiny’s eyes soften before she nods. “I should have thought of it, it’s good practical hands-on practice, but I can’t take the credit. Your sister’s a special one.”

“Faith’s my savior.” Reiny’s face remains forward as we walk into the sale barn, but I can all but hear the sudden flash of sadness that fills her voice.

I just wish I knew how to help her. And how the hell to help Faith.

“Woah, this place is cleaned up!” Stacy whistles.

The lights illuminate the familiar space in a warm glow and I pause. It’s gotten a huge face lift—there’s no longer dust coating every surface, the corral in the center is a new grey pipe material, its rusty counterpart nowhere to be seen, and the bleachers…I freeze. Are the bleachers purple?

“Why do you think they painted them purple Men-Men? Seems like a weird color for an agriculture building.”

I nod, it is an odd color, but I can’t find it in myself to dislike it. In fact, I’m secretly ecstatic to see something out of the norm in this dusty old town that seems determined to fixate on the past. It’s a refreshing change.

“I like it. Maybe it’s for the school colors?” Reiny states, stopping before the arena.

Before I can agree, the back door slides up, people filling in, each leading their own steer. Their coats glimmer in the fluorescent lights, and their bawling mixes with the sounds of chatter and the humming air conditioning unit. It’s a welcome sound, and I can’t help but smile like a fool.

I’ve missed this.

As they near, a familiar man materializes, his sharp features and perfectly pressed attire giving him away in a room of otherwise casual people and kids.

“Nathan!” I wave over the fence, and his face instantly relaxes, a dazzling smile claiming his clean shaven face. He walks toward me, tall, lithe, and completely relaxed, like he’s right where he belongs.

I know my friends all dislike him, and although I despise how he treated Stetson, I can’t hate him.

There’s something about him that makes me feel seen, and appreciated.

He was dismissive to Stetson, rude even, but that’s not the man I know.

Nathan’s always been thoughtful, courteous, and kind, and I can’t help but wonder if there was more to that whole story than I know.

Hell, if anyone understands being misunderstood, it’s me.

“Dale—” He pauses, his smile widening as he nears, making his silverish eyes sparkle. “I mean Ms. Mendes.”

I wave him off, “Dale’s fine. I rarely get these hooligans to call me anything besides Men-Men. At least Dale sounds like a friendly term, Men-Men sounds like a chant made up by a bunch of hormonal girls.”

“Men!” Stacy and Dakota scoff in unison, but I just wink, turning my attention back to Nathan.

“Thanks for doing this, Nathan. It’s very nice of you.”

His cheeks pinken lightly, before he shrugs.

“When Faith called and asked, it sounded fun. And I’m just glad to help, it’s nice to put my knowledge to use once in a while—I feel like I know all this about cattle genetics, and my parents talk about selling the cattle every day.

I don’t know what I’ll do if they do.” I soak in his words, nodding, not sure what to say.

It feels like he’s saying it more for himself than me anyways.

“Besides, I’d do anything she asked me to. ”

At that my eyes involuntarily widen, and I shift uncomfortably on my feet.

The deal with him and Faith feels completely off limits, especially because Faith won’t say much about it, no matter how many times we ask.

I can tell it’s an open, infected, deep wound for her, and I refuse to betray her, even if I’m grateful Nathan’s helping.

“Uh, yeah, well glad she called you,” I sputter, still surprised by the fact she had. Faith just said Nathan was the best for something like this, and then refused to speak any more on the matter. Even when I got her drunk— that girl is like a steel trap on certain things.

“How is she?” Nathan whispers, his face melting into a look of true concern.

“She’s good,” I state, only half meaning it. Things with her mom have escalated to a toxic level, but that’s all I know, and I certainly won’t be telling him.

“Oh, well good.”

Unable to help myself, I raise a brow and ask, “What’s the deal with you two?” I shouldn’t be asking. Bad Dale . And yet, I wait with bated breath, hoping for even a clue.

He shakes his head. “We were so young, but I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it. Doesn’t help her parents are—” He teeters off, straightening once more to look over my shoulder. “Hey, Reiny, are you ready to judge some steers?”

He turns without another word, retreating toward the line of steers and handlers, and the girls giggle, filing behind him.

“He’s so cute!” one of them coos as she passes me.

“And his family’s so rich,” another adds, nodding her head. I roll my eyes, and then face Reiny as she brings up the rear.

“What do you think, Reiny?” I smile.

“I think he’s the nicest guy in the world, but he’ll never be with Faith. Not when it’s exactly what my parents want, and Faith’ll never do anything they want again.”

Her words tumble in my brain like rocks in my cowboy boot, pressing painfully against my subconscious. What does that all mean?

“Oh, Ms. Mendes, will you tell Mr. Reyes he’s done a great job with the sale barn since he bought it? The livestock board is very pleased, even if they don’t love the choice of paint color.” Nathan shoots me a final smile, before turning his attention to the gathered group of girls.

And I stare after them, feeling completely detached from myself.

Mateo owns the sale barn? Why?

The regret doesn’t hit me until after I can hear his breathing on the other end of the phone. I freeze, staring at a particular particle of dust as it dances lower and lower through a beam of sunshine streaking across my kitchen.

What the fuck am I doing? This was not part of the plan.

“Dale?” A second wave of regret seizes me by the pang of concern and hesitation that fills his voice.

“Sorry, I’m okay.” The words tumble from my now desert-dry tongue. I’m far from okay— what are they symptoms of a stroke? Am I having one?

“Okayyyy, good.” I can practically see him nodding.

“Yep.” I pop the ‘p’, pressing my free hand to my pulse just to make sure it’s still there.

“Can I help you with something?” It’s a simple question. And I hate it clear to the marrow of my soul. When did we become so formal?

“You bought the old sale barn.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t gaslight me by lying.

“I did.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me? Don’t friends typically tell each other big life things like that?” I’m met with a thick, suffocating silence. And I hate it even more than the formality. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were never meant to be like this. “Or are we not friends anymore?”

“I believe we are, yes.” His words slap me, and I have to slump into a chair to keep from passing out.

“You believe—don’t friends at least call each other with this kind of news?” I snarl, the metal of the phone groaning in my grip.

“I did.”

My brows pinch together. “What?”

“I called. First, I called every day for two weeks. And then you texted me and asked me to stop calling.”

I groan, and then bite my tongue trying to smother the sound. How could I forget that particular detail? I feel like I’m outside of my body, and nothing makes sense.

If I’m being honest with myself, nothing makes sense anymore.

“Yeah, well?—”

“I think the words you’re looking for are, ‘I’m sorry Mateo’ ”.

I huff at the annoyance lacing his voice. “And why would I say that? What do I have to be sorry for?” I know I’m digging myself a hole here, but fuck.

“You sound frustrated. Are the vibrators not doing it for you anymore?” If I wasn’t sitting down, I’d fall over. Dead. Deceased. Keeled over.

“What makes you think I’m only using vibrators?” I grind out. This conversation is running off the rails, and fast.

“Don’t tease me.” His tone leaves no room for argument, in fact he sounds pissed, and I hate how my core clenches at the dominance in the words.

“We used to tease each other.”

“We also used to fuck each other.” I open my mouth, and then clank it shut, my teeth rattling. He huffs on the other end, and I can picture his eyes narrowing at me in the challenging way he always does when I disagree.“Excellent, now, please apologize.”

“For what?” I wheeze, leaning forward in my chair. I feel like there’s a boot on my chest, and I can’t crawl out from under it.

“Dale,” his voice is soft, but full of command. And fuck, if it doesn’t make me instantly wet.

“Mateo,” I challenge.

“Why did you call then?”

“Because I—” Why did I call? For the life of me I cannot remember now. “I’m hanging up now.”

But I don’t. And we sit in silence that borders on strangling.

I know I should hang up. I have nothing left to say— nothing I can say —and he knows it.

But he remains on the phone, allowing the time to tick by past us.

And then he finally sighs, and I ache, my heart shattering at the intensity of the disappointment I feel radiating over the line before he whispers, “I miss you, too.”