Page 43 of Someone to Hold

I force a tight smile. “I think the official term is buckle bunny.”

“Oh, yeah.” She gives an exaggerated nod. “A staple of the rodeo circuit. I feel like there were dozens of them at the fairgrounds last fall before his accident.”

Those flutters hit my gut like a truckload of bricks. “Exactly,” I agree with a sigh. “The man has way better options than spendingthe weekend holed up in an Airstream.” I lean forward like I’m suddenly going to develop x-ray vision. “Why isn’t he taking advantage of them?”

She hits the brakes. “You want to knock on his door and ask?”

“Of course not.” I smack her arm. “Don’t slow down. Remember, I’m back to hating him.”

“Back to,” she repeats as she pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Which means there was a period, however brief, when you didn’t hate him.” She grins. “I knew it.”

“To be clear, I didn’t everlikehim,” I say, amazed I sound so composed.

“Girl, I’m on your side no matter what. If you hate him, I hate him. But…” She shifts the car into park, and the quiet of the night settles over us.

“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” I tell her with an eye roll. “But what?”

“Hate sex can be flippin’ hot.”

“It doesn’t sound hot.”

“Trust me.”

My mouth drops open. “Do you and Jon have hate sex? You’re engaged, which means you love him.”

“Of course. But in the early days of our relationship, things were...tumultuous.” She shrugs. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I occasionally rub people the wrong way.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I answer with a soft laugh. “But never me, and not Jon, right?”

“Not anymore,” she says, but I notice the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Now things are…comfortable.”

“You say that like comfortable is a bad word.”

“It’s not.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “But being out of your comfort zone isn’t bad either.”

“I’m getting used to being way out.”

“It’s a good look,” she says, her tone earnest. “I’m proud that you aren’t letting a setback derail you.”

Yep, that’s right. One night of axe throwing with my bestie, plus a little bit of harmless flirting with a guy I’ll likely never see again, and I’ve recommitted to my bucket list goal of building a life for myself and my kids on my terms.

My mother-in-law made her arrangement with Chase before she knew I wanted to stay in Skylark. I can’t fault her, given that I never spoke up about my dream. Heck, I barely let myself acknowledge I had one before my book club friends challenged me to claim it.

Linda told me her plan to sell the property, and the twins and I moving to Albuquerque with her was part of that decision. There was no discussion about what I wanted, which is on me. I didn’t feel like I could talk about my dreams because I hadn’t done enough to earn them.

Now I know the quickest way to make a dream come true is by becoming the person who lives that life. I’m becoming that person.

I flash a smile that only wobbles a bit at the corners. “Thank you for kicking my ass into gear and being my best friend. I wouldn’t want to do life without you.”

“Samesies, girl,” she says with a wink. “You’re my ride or die, Mol.”

The first words that pop into my mind are a denial that she needs me like I do her, but I don’t say them. Because half of the problem is that I’ve spent too long selling myself short. I’m not going to do that anymore.

At least I’m going to try not to.

“Do you want help getting into the house? I feel like that shot might have pushed you over the edge.”

I laugh softly. “Why did I let some rando guy convince me to do a shot?”