Page 17 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as I watch Eddie saddle the horses. The sky is a dusky violet, fading into darkness, and the world feels quiet like it’s waiting for something. Maybe me. Maybe us.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, watching him with quiet fascination.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask, crossing my arms as he tightens the last strap-on the saddle.

Eddie grins at me over his shoulder. “Darlin’, you survived a tattoo revenge scheme and a bar brawl. You’re tellin’ me you’re afraid of a horse?”

I huff. “I’m not afraid of the horse. I’m afraid of falling off and embarrassing myself.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

He leads me over to my horse—a beautiful chestnut mare named Daisy. He pats her neck, his touch gentle, reverent. I watch his hands, the way they move, firm yet careful, and wonder if that’s how he is with everything—with music, with people, with me.

“This is the saddle,” he explains, tapping the worn leather. “The stirrups—these are key. You wanna make sure they’re adjusted right, so you’re balanced. And the reins—these give you control, but you don’t gotta yank on ‘em. Just be firm. She’ll listen.”

I nod, absorbing every word. It’s easy to listen to Eddie when he’s teaching me something. There’s a quiet confidence in the way he speaks, like he knows exactly who he is, exactly how to exist in this world. I envy that.

“Alright. Let’s get you up there.”

With his hands steadying me, I swing my leg over the saddle, settling into the seat. Daisy shifts slightly, but Eddie’s hand is still at my knee, grounding me.

“You’re good,” he murmurs. “Just breathe.”

I do. And for the first time in days, I feel steady.

“Here.” He steps closer, adjusting the stirrup strap. His fingers brush against my thigh, and a jolt of awareness shoots through me.

I inhale sharply.

He stills, his gaze flicking up to mine, something unreadable in his eyes. The moment stretches, thick with something we haven’t put words to yet. Then he steps back, clearing his throat.

As Eddie moves toward his horse, Blaze, my eyes are drawn to the effortless way he carries himself—calm, steady, utterly in control. He grips the saddle horn, planting one boot in the stirrup before swinging his leg over in a fluid, practiced motion.

The movement stretches the denim of his jeans over his muscular thighs, pulling tight across his strong legs and, for a second, I forget how to breathe.

Well, damn.

The man was already unfairly attractive, but watching him mount a horse like he was born in the saddle? That’s a whole new level of devastation.

I tear my gaze away before he can catch me staring, but not before heat pools low in my stomach.

Settling into the saddle, he adjusts his reins with an easy confidence, his broad shoulders straight, his biceps flexing as he strokes Blaze’s neck. The sight alone is enough to make my pulse stutter.

Then he glances at me, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slow, knowing smirk. “You comin’, darlin’, or just enjoyin’ the view?”

I snap my gaze up to his, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Shut up.”

His chuckle is deep and rich as he nudges Blaze forward, and I swear to God, if this man doesn’t stop being so effortlessly hot, I’m going to need a damn moment to collect myself before I can function again.

We ride out into the countryside, side by side, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses filling the quiet. The landscape stretches around us, rolling hills fading into thick woods. Fireflies blink lazily in the distance, tiny golden sparks against the deepening blue of the night sky.

It’s peaceful. Tranquil in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

A strange sensation settles in my chest—like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Which is ridiculous.

Because this isn’t my life. This isn’t my world.

And Eddie? He’s definitely not the kind of man I should be falling for.

But here I am, falling anyway.

He glances over at me. “You’re quiet.”

I blink, realizing I’ve been lost in thought. “Just taking it in.”

His mouth tips into a soft smile. “Good.”

Minutes pass in easy silence until we reach a clearing—a wide, open meadow bathed in moonlight. Eddie pulls on the reins, slowing his horse to a stop.

“C’mon,” he says, dismounting with an effortless grace that makes my stomach flip.

I follow his lead, though not nearly as gracefully. My legs wobble as I hit the ground, and Eddie chuckles, steadying me with a hand at my waist.

“Not bad, city girl.”

I roll my eyes, but my pulse skips when his fingers linger a second too long before he pulls away.

He ties off the horses to a low-hanging branch, then strides toward the center of the meadow. From his saddlebag, he pulls out a blanket, shaking it out over the grass.

“What’s this?” I ask.

He drops down onto it, stretching out with a lazy confidence that makes my breath catch. “Stargazin’.”

I hesitate.

It’s intimate.

Too intimate.

And yet, when he lifts his arm in invitation, patting the spot beside him, my feet move before my brain catches up.

I sink down beside him, lying back against the soft fabric. The sky is endless above us, a sea of inky black sprinkled with silver. It’s breathtaking.

But not as breathtaking as the man beside me.

He shifts, turning his head toward me. “You ever do this before?”

I shake my head. “Not like this.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“C’mere.”

My breath catches.

He lifts his arm again, an unspoken invitation. An offering.

I should say no.

I should.

Because every time I let myself get closer, I fall a little harder. And I don’t think Eddie even realizes he’s catching me.

But my body betrays me.

Slowly, hesitantly, I shift closer, resting my head against his chest. His arm tightens around me, his fingers idly tracing patterns against my shoulder.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

His heartbeat is steady beneath my cheek, a comforting rhythm that makes my own pulse slow.

The sky above us stretches endlessly, a canvas of deep indigo and scattered stars, each one winking down like a secret waiting to be told.

The meadow is quiet except for the soft rustle of grass in the breeze and the occasional huff from the horses where they stand tied a few feet away.

Eddie’s warmth seeps into my side, his arm cradling me close against his chest as I rest my head there, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“This one here,” he says, his voice slow and rhythmic, “is Orion. You can tell by the three stars in a row—that’s his belt.” He raises his arm to point, and I follow the movement, my gaze trailing the strong line of his forearm before flicking to the stars he’s showing me.

I hum softly in acknowledgment, completely at ease in a way that feels almost surreal. “And what’s that one?” I lift a finger toward another cluster.

“The Pleiades—Seven Sisters,” he tells me, his tone carrying that easy, almost hypnotic cadence that makes me want to close my eyes and just listen to him talk forever.

I tilt my head to look at him, my cheek pressing against his chest. “How do you know so much about stars?”

He exhales, his fingers absently trailing along my upper arm, sending tiny shivers across my skin.

“I always loved the peace of it,” he admits.

“Didn’t have a whole lot of that growin’ up.

When I was a kid, I used to sneak up onto the roof of Nico’s place just to stare at the sky.

Made me feel small, but in a good way, y’know?

Like none of the bullshit mattered up there. ”

I nod, understanding more than I can say. There’s something soothing about the vastness of the night sky, about the way it stretches on forever, indifferent to all the chaos down here.

We lapse into a comfortable silence, but then Eddie shifts slightly, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look down at me. His expression turns thoughtful. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

I lift a brow. “Sure.”

“Why didn’t you ever make singing your career?”

The question catches me off guard. I blink up at him, my stomach knotting.

“I—” I hesitate, suddenly wishing I could shrink into the earth. “I get stage fright,” I admit quietly, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “And I never really thought I was good enough anyway.”

Eddie stiffens beneath me. His chest rises and falls in a slow, controlled breath, and then he turns, fully facing me now, his hand lifting to cup my cheek.

“Laney,” he says, his voice rough with something fierce, “you have the best damn voice I’ve ever heard. Better than mine by a long shot.”

I scoff, looking away. “Now I know you’re full of shit.”

His grip tightens, just enough to make me meet his gaze again. His blue eyes are dark and serious, no trace of teasing. “I mean it,” he says. “I’ve been in this business a long time. I’ve heard every kind of voice there is, and none of ’em hold a candle to yours.”

I swallow hard, my throat thick with emotion, but I don’t know what to say. I’ve spent so long believing I wasn’t enough— hearing someone like him say otherwise is almost too much to process.

Silence settles over us again, and I stare up at the stars, wondering if this is all just some dream I’ll wake up from. It feels impossible—being here, in this beautiful place, wrapped up in Eddie’s warmth, listening to him say things that unravel everything I thought I knew about myself.

But then, before I can stop myself, the question slips out. “Why are you so good to me?” My voice is quiet, almost lost in the night air. “Why did you protect me from the start?”

His body tenses just slightly and, for a moment, I think he won’t answer. Then he moves, shifting so he’s leaning over me, his fingers tilting my chin up.

“Because you’re special,” he says simply.

I let out a humorless laugh and shake my head, but his grip tightens just enough to still me.

His eyes burn into mine, intense and unwavering. “You are special, Laney.” His voice is low, deep, full of something that makes my breath catch. “You’re special to me.”

Something in my chest cracks wide open.

I can’t speak. Can’t move.

I just stare up at him, caught in the storm of his gaze, knowing without a doubt that if I wasn’t already falling, I just took the final plunge.

“You okay?” he murmurs a few minutes later.

I like how he checks in with me like he can read me in a way no other person has ever been able to do.

I nod. “Yeah.”

More than okay.

We lie there in silence for a while, the warmth of his body seeping into mine, the scent of him—cologne and cedar and something distinctly Eddie—filling my senses.

Then he speaks, voice low and rough. “This is nice.”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

Another beat.

Then—

“You’re dangerous, Laney.”

I stiffen, my heart lurching. “What?”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my ear. “You heard me.”

I lift my head, peering up at him. “How am I dangerous?”

His eyes darken, his fingers tightening slightly on my arm. “Because every time I let my guard down with you, I don’t wanna pull it back up.”

My throat goes dry.

I open my mouth—maybe to deny it, maybe to dare him to let it down completely—but then he shifts, rolling slightly so that his face is inches from mine.

The air changes.

The playful ease from before is gone, replaced with something heavier.

Something electric.

His gaze flickers to my lips.

My breath catches.

I could close the distance.

I want to.

But before I can move, he exhales sharply, pulling back.

He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “C’mon, darlin’.” His voice is rougher than before. “We should head back.”

I blink, trying to catch up. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

I push up from the blanket, ignoring the ache in my chest, ignoring the feeling that I just let something slip through my fingers.

Because I know, deep down—

Whatever this is, Eddie is fighting it.

And I don’t know if I have the strength to fight it, too.