Page 27 of From the Ashes

Will Phoenix recognize it for what it is?

Chapter 14

Phoenix

To everyone else, it’s a cowboy doing his ritual, his signature moves after a win. Nothing out of the ordinary. Hell, several people in the crowd do it with him.

But to me, it feels like a love letter, a slap to the face, and a kick to the balls all at the same time. His eyes haven’t found mine since the announcer said my name, but this routine of his does plenty of talking for him.

I’m transported to that night in the barn and I can almost feel his heartbeat in the pads of my fingertips as I pressed them over the organ in his chest. Part of me is thrilled about him immortalizing that night, but a much stronger portion is pissed as hell that he’s sharing it with not only these people, but his fans all across the fucking country.

That wasournight.Oursecret.

Cassie’s lips are back at my ear. “That mean something to you?”

“What?” I ask stupidly.

Instead of answering, she looks at my chest where my hand is placed against my own heart.Fuck.

“Oh, uh, no.”

Her lips curve in a sad smile. “So, that’s a yes.”

I shoot her a warning glare. “Let it go, Cass.”

She holds her hands up in mock innocence. “I don’t think I’m the one holding on to it, Phoe.”

Before either of us can say anything else, Hudson says, “Hey, you guys up for some poker? It’s still early.”

I desperately want to be left alone with my thoughts, but all that will accomplish is to either piss me off, make me sad, or cause me to drink. Maybe all three. So, reluctantly, I agree. At least this group will distract me and keep me entertained. Besides, Cassie loves poker and this week is supposed to be about her dammit.

“Yeah, sure,” I agree.

“I’m riding with Phoenix,” Cassie declares.

I can’t be alone with her right now. Can’t handle the interrogation even though she means well.

“Cass, do you mind riding with your brother? I need to check on the horses before I leave.”

Poker is always played at my house because I have a table permanently set up with everyone’s chips. The guys call it my “man cave” even though it’s in the dining room on the main floor of my old farmhouse, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it. I love hosting my friends and that they all know where the hide-a-key is. Them getting to the house before me doesn’t matter because they’ll turn on the lights, grab some beers, and deal the cards.

Cassie studies me, seeing my excuse for what it is: a reason to be alone so I can find Walker.

“Yeah, sure. No problem,” she says finally. “See youat your place.”

I tell everyone I’ll be along shortly and they should get started without me, and then I walk as fast as I dare toward the stalls out back. It’s as good a place as any to start looking since I have no idea which camper is his.

But the stalls are empty. I check on a couple of my horses that are in here and turn to go, not wanting to be creepy and just wander around the campsites—especially because I’ll get recognized in this crowd and I’m in no headspace to interact with fans right now.

Disappointed, I start heading for my truck in the lot when I hear someone call Walker’s name.

“Walker!”

He doesn’t turn.

“Yo, DeVille! You fucking dick, don’t ignore me.”

“What do you want, Jackson?” Walker replies, sounding tired instead of elated over his win.