Page 6 of Riding the Line (Willow Ridge #2)

‘Pain and stress can be triggers, sweetheart. You know that well enough from your cramps – I’m certain they were the reason you had your last one since they’d gotten so much worse,’ my mom reminds me, the memory of waking up on the ground surrounded by my parents’ friends and colleagues after a fit at a summer barbecue two years ago sadly not hazy enough yet.

Mom doesn’t give me an opportunity to respond before she adds on with finality, ‘I’ll speak to some of the doctors at work too, check what they think before we move forward with anything.

We can’t be certain how you’ll react since you’ve never had one before.

It could be more painful than you think. ’

My shoulders curve over, defeat starting to wash over me. ‘It’s fine. I’ve looked into it and—’

Deep, rumbling laughter echoes outside the front door seconds before it opens again, and my older brother, Wyatt, walks in with Duke in tow.

I’m instantly aware of the fact that I’m currently dressed in an old, oversized T-shirt with some pyjama shorts that are fraying at the hem of one of the legs, while my long hair is wrapped up into the messiest of messy buns on top of my head.

At least now I’m at college he only really sees me at the bar when I’m relatively put together, as opposed to looking like a gangly gremlin that’s just crawled out of bed.

Which feels even more prominent when Duke looks the way he does right now.

He’s clearly been helping Wyatt out at Sunset Ranch like he sometimes does before opening the bar for lunch, as he’s sporting dusty Wranglers that hug his thick thighs in all the right places, and a black T-shirt, showing off all the tattoos covering his dark skin.

Plus, it’s one of the rare occasions when he wears a cowboy hat, and man, does it look good on him – the way the dark felt brings out the deep brown of his eyes.

Not that I really care what he looks like, but … well, he’s an attractive man. Anyone would notice that.

Sure, Cherry. You’re convincing no one.

‘Everything alright?’ Wyatt asks, eyes darting between my parents and me as he heads into the kitchen and fetches a couple of glasses from a cupboard.

Duke follows quietly behind him, offering me a tight-lipped smile before opening the fridge and grabbing the carton of juice, as if he’s just another Hensley brother.

Which he might as well be given how often he’s around.

I shuffle behind one of the kitchen chairs to try to hide my slobby attire and rub the back of my neck as I smile quickly back. The urge to rip my hair out of its messy bun is incredibly strong right now.

‘Cherry wants to get a tattoo,’ Dad declares, folding his arms, as if by saying wants to means it’s not definitely going to happen.

‘Is that safe with your epilepsy? You know pain can be a trigger if it makes you too stressed. What’s it been now?

Two years since your last seizure. I wouldn’t risk that, Cherry.

’ Wyatt repeats my dad’s earlier comments as he takes the juice from Duke and pours them both a drink, making me roll my eyes.

They accidentally land on Duke whose brows are drawn in as he watches me. I quickly blink away.

First the lap dancing, then the bucket list, and now he’s about to witness me probably be forbidden from getting a tattoo like I’m some rebellious seventeen year old, all while I’m in my pyjamas. Can it really get any worse?

‘Apparently so,’ Mom responds, and it takes me a second to realise she wasn’t responding to my thoughts.

‘Hmm.’ Wyatt fishes his phone from his pocket and types something into it, the screen lighting up his face as he scrolls through.

Everyone watches, waiting for his verdict, clearly more trusting in Google than me.

‘To be fair, it does say there isn’t any evidence of it causing seizures, just to be careful of the pain being an unexpected trigger. ’

‘What do you think, Duke?’ My mom turns to him, as if he’s part of the family too, and should get a say in my life.

I suppose, given how many years he’s been friends with Wyatt, and the amount of time he’s spent at ours growing up, he might as well be a Hensley.

I can’t remember the last Thanksgiving him and his grandmother didn’t spend with us.

Duke’s brows shoot up and his eyes dart around the group, eventually landing on me.

‘Uh …’ He pauses, as I widen my own eyes in a silent plea.

‘I’m not sure I’m really the right person to ask whether someone should or shouldn’t be getting a tattoo.

’ He then holds out his arms, letting the sunshine highlight every inch of his tattooed skin, the darker lines and grey shading, leaving little of his skin bare, except for a small area on his inner wrists. Wyatt snorts out a laugh beside him.

My gaze cuts from Duke to the floor, and my chest caves in. But then he suddenly clears his throat and adds, ‘Though, I’m sure Cherry knows what she’s doing. She was always the smartest one out of the Hensley kids, anyway.’

‘Hey!’ Wyatt yells, jabbing Duke in the ribs with his elbow. And while my parents drop into laughter, and Wyatt reels off all the reasons why he’s the smartest, Duke’s eyes find mine, shining the reminder that maybe someone is in my corner after all.