Page 51 of Hung Up (Shadow Ridge #1)

SAN FRANCISCO

getting what I want

I’m curled up on the couch with a blanket, my laptop sitting on my lap.

My phone is on do not disturb, the television off, and all news and social media sites have been temporarily blocked on my laptop.

After the media circus that unfolded on Sunday, I’ve been bunkered down as if trying to survive the apocalypse.

Except I’ve been ordering through Uber Eats twice a day, and I’m looking at adoptable kittens on the internet.

With my new shut-in hermit crab status, I thought what better companion than a cat? Only problem is I’m allergic—although I’m not sure that really matters. There’s meds for that which are quite effective.

Right? Ah, what the hell.

I’m just about to click on “Schedule a Visit” when my phone starts to ring beside me, which means it can only be one of two people. Please be Rylie, please be Rylie, I chant in my head. Flipping my phone so it’s screen side up, my heart rate spikes as I see Alicia’s name across the screen.

“What did you decide?”

She had called me on Monday to express her concern over the incident.

Of course, she’d never reprimand her best reporter, but she made it known that my actions had put her in a tough situation.

I had apologized profusely, telling her I’d do whatever it took to fix this.

She said she’d get back to me and let me know what the next steps would be once she could get a handle on the media.

I guess she’s made her decision.

“No beating around the bush with you, is there?” I don’t respond, setting my laptop down on the coffee table before resting my thumbnail nervously between my teeth.

“I’m going to send in team two to finish this assignment and have you help with research for the next couple of weeks before finding you a new assignment. ”

“No.”

I can hear the surprise in her voice when she says, “Excuse me?”

“I said no.” I leap off the couch, pacing on the rug between the coffee table and my sectional. “I’ve worked too damn hard and put too much into this assignment just to walk away the weekend before finals.”

“Is this because of Jesse?”

I scoff, shaking my head as I stop pacing and begin to gesture with my free hand as if she can see me.

“No, Alicia, it’s not. This is about my integrity.

It’s about me pouring my heart and soul into this final article, sacrificing hours upon hours of my life to be on the road, researching more than I ever have in my life, and wanting to make a difference.

It’s about me finishing what I started. If it was about Jesse, I’d just go watch him like a normal spectator. This is so much bigger for me.”

“What if I told you the only way you could keep this assignment was to end whatever it is between you two?”

“I’d tell you that what I have going on with Jesse hasn’t affected my work in any shape or form, and if it’s an issue, I’ll make sure no one sees us together until this is over.”

She hesitates. “You’d really risk this assignment just to be with him?”

“I guess so.” The words, the truth and intensity of what they mean, hit me like a ton of bricks.

But for once, I don’t balk. “I’m starting to learn that there’s more to life than your job.

” There’s a knock on the door—presumably my dinner—so I tell Alicia, “I promise you won’t regret keeping me on this assignment, but you will if you take me off of it. ”

“I better not.” My brows lift, the vice gripping my heart easing up slightly when there’s another knock. “This better be one damn good article, Faith. You call me if you need anything.”

She hangs up before I can thank her, so I make a mental note to text her when the delivery driver knocks for a third time. “Just leave it at the door.”

“But then I don’t get to see your beautiful face.”

My jaw goes slack and my eyes go wide. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, I’m confused to see that it’s seven o’clock. He should be riding right now.

I rush to the door and yank it open, a sense of calm rushing over me when I realize he’s okay. Or at least appears to be.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to give you this.” He pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket and extends it in my direction. Taking it from him, I feel his eyes on me as I flip it open to see his somewhat messy scrawl.

I just want you to know that when I picture myself happy, it’s with you.

“You know you could’ve just texted me this.”

He shrugs. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

I step aside and let him walk in, closing the door behind us. When I turn back to him, I see him scanning my apartment with obvious surprise. My apartment isn’t what most people expect it to be when they visit for the first time.

There are plants hanging from the ceiling and large ones in pots in random spots on the floor, all around the living room.

There’s random sketch drawings of plants covering my walls, a giant round mirror above the couch, and pink and yellow accent pieces everywhere.

My couch is a pink fabric with a couple fluffy pillows, a matching chair in the corner by the TV stand with a fluffy pink ottoman beside it.

It’s weird having him here in my place. He looks more out of place than a bull in a china shop, yet it seems like he belongs here.

Like he’s here to help settle me, to help bring me back to neutral rather than staying stuck in overdrive.

I’m about to comment on it, to point out that he seems larger here, when I catch sight of the clock and remember my earlier surprise.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you?—”

“Jesse. You’re supposed to be riding right now.” I shake my head, my brows furrowed as I gaze at him. “Did something happen? Do they do byes in bull-riding and I wasn’t aware of it?”

He sighs, taking a couple of steps toward me but stopping just out of my reach. “I had to see you.”

It comes out so softly that I almost don’t hear him, almost like he’s afraid to admit to me what he did. My eyes widen, the repercussions of his act hitting me so abruptly that I almost stumble back a step as if I had been physically shoved.

“You forfeit your ride to be here?” He nods. “Why would you do that? You might have just kissed your chance at winning the buckle goodbye.”

Closing the space between us, he cups my face between his hands, the look in his eyes holding nothing but admiration and sincerity. “Some things are just more important than my rank in the standings, Sweetheart.”

Jesse Hayes, playboy bull rider extraordinaire, who would sacrifice anything to win that golden buckle, just sacrificed that golden buckle for me.

And it kills me.

“I’m not worth losing the championship, Jesse.” My eyes well with tears, concern mixing in his when he notices. “You’ve worked so hard for this for so long, you can’t throw that all away now.”

“I can and I will.” The determination in his tone makes me realize how weak I feel at this moment.

“It’s like I told the guys, none of it matters if you’re not there.

I’ve been chasing this dream for years, alone.

And I was okay with that—until you walked into my life and turned my world upside down.

Suddenly, a good ride didn’t matter unless you were there to see it.

While I’ve been stubborn about riding when my ribs are broken, that is more about feeling weak than it is about anything else.

But I meant it when I told you I would quit if that’s what it took to be with you, Sweetheart.

I don’t care about that stupid buckle anymore. I care about you.”

My bottom lip quivers as I prepare for what I’m about to say next. “I don’t want you giving up your career for me. I don’t want you giving anything up for me. You’d only regret it one day.”

“I’d never?—”

“I need you to let me get through this, okay?” He sighs, but he eventually nods.

“If we were to do this and stay together after the finals are over, you’d love being with me at first. I’m fun and outgoing and open to anything.

I love trying new things and going on adventures, but I also love the quiet, intimate moments of just cooking dinner together or watching a movie. ”

I take a deep breath, my gaze shifting to look at my feet.

“But one day, I’m going to become too predictable.

I’ll get boring.” I reconnect our gazes, giving him a sad smile.

“I’ll get angry over the little things and pick fights.

I’ll become too anxious and be overbearing, or I’ll slip into my seasonal depression and be a burden.

Work might consume so much of my time for a few weeks, where you barely see me and feel like you’re in a long-distance relationship.

I won’t be as tidy, and I’ll get lazy, and the dishes and the laundry will pile up.

And one day, you’ll realize it’s no longer easy to love me and regret giving up any pieces of your life. ”

“Faith, Sweetheart?—”

“God,” I laugh, tilting my head to look at my ceiling for a brief moment. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“Of you? Never.” He takes my hand in one of his own, the other pushing a loose curl behind my ear. “Baby, whoever made you believe that you weren’t worthy of love through all those down times, whoever made you feel like you were too hard to love, never had to work for yours.”

My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”