“Not really,” I reply honestly. Why lie? Sterling can read me like a book, and I think I even kind of like it. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him.
Sterling hums softly, not giving me a reply, but making it clear he’s giving me space to go on.
My stomach twists into knots. “Does your offer to listen still stand?”
His eyes meet mine, and he nods. “Of course, it does.”
It’s not a good idea, I know this. I’m dancing along the line of drunk, and my lips are looser than they would be if I were sober. Butfuck, getting all this shit off my chest sounds good. Which is probably why the words leave my mouth before I even have a true chance to make up my mind.
“I don’t think I’m going back on the road.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not finishing the circuit. I’m done. I can’t do this shit anymore. The stress from feeling like I need to prove myself to my dad is eating away at me, and I’m not fucking sleeping. Myanxiety is sky high all the time lately. I can’t fucking do it, and I don’t want to.”
Silence falls upon us, and it makes me antsy. I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips. I sound like a spoiled fucking brat quitting because he doesn’t get his way, and it’s not even about that. My breath catches in my throat when I feel Sterling’s warm, calloused hand. His fingers lace with mine, and he gives a couple of solid squeezes, as if telling me he’s here for me. I don’t look at him. I can’t. My throat’s thick and pressure is building behind my eyes. I’m scared if I look at him, I’ll crack and break right in front of him… again.
“I won’t even pretend to understand the way you’re feeling, Shooter. The pressure on your shoulders, the shoes you feel like you have to fill… I can’t imagine. My heart hurts for you and the way you’ve been feeling. Sports are never easy; professional level sports even harder. The pressure is immense, the expectations always high, but it should never be coming from someone who’s supposed to be in your corner. I’m so sorry that you’re even considering this. That you feel like this may be the only option.”
Glancing over at him, I know right away it’s a mistake. The care shining in his honey-colored eyes is enough to knock me over. My vision blurs, and I look up at the sky to keep the tears from spilling over. I do not want to fucking cry in front of him again. This is getting to be ridiculous.
Another squeeze to my hand, Sterling continues. “While I don’t think any decision, especially one this large, should be made while under the influence, I do think you’re valid in considering this.”
As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I rest my head on Sterling’s shoulder, emotions overwhelming my nervous system. “Why are you so nice to me?”
Body shaking with a chuckle, he replies softly, “Because as much as I thought I hated the haughty, smug side of you, I’vequickly realized I’d do just about anything to see it come back. I care about you, and seeing you hurting hurts me.”
My chest aches listening to him. I don’t even know what to say back, so I don’t say anything at all. Nothing I say will compare.
I don’t know how long we sit there like that, but eventually, he nudges me. “Come on,” he rasps, sounding half asleep. “Let me take you back to my house to sleep all this beer off. I don’t want you driving.”
“Trying to get in my pants again, dirty boy?” I tease, but climb out of the truck bed anyway.
“Not a chance, Graham. I don’t make it a habit to take advantage of drunk guys.” He winks at me as I follow him over to where his truck is. I don’t miss the way he called me by my last name, like how I do to him, nor do I miss the way it makes my heart thump a little harder.
Cope was right… I’m downbadfor Sterling Addams.
31
Sterling Addams
Stepping out of the shower, steam billows around me as I dry myself off before using the towel to clean the condensation off the mirror. I slip on the pair of sweats I brought in here, yanking on clean white t-shirt, before running my fingers through the wet, unruly strands atop my head. Coming out of the bathroom, my eyes immediately land on the bed. Or more specifically, the person occupying it.
Shooter’s still sound asleep, curled up on his side, hugging one of my pillows to his chest. I cross the room, coming to a stop right in front of the bed, and I let myself watch him for a moment.Not like that’s creepy at all.His long, dark lashes fan across the tops of his cheeks, and his full, red lips are parted as he breathes softly, his chest rising and falling in even succession. His features are soft, making him appear younger than he is, and he looks so peaceful right now. Such a harsh contrast to how he was feeling last night.
My chest still aches, thinking about how dejected he looked last night, and how it’s not the first time he’s been like that. Ihate all the pressure on his shoulders, and the doubt running rampant through his mind. He doesn’t deserve that, and I don’t know how to help him, but I want to. Deciding to let him sleep a while longer, I head down the stairs and out the barn, making my way toward the house in search of some fresh coffee. It’s just barley eight in the morning, and if I’m correct, Conrad should be in the kitchen, making himself breakfast and brewing some coffee before he heads out to do the ranch chores.
The backdoor’s unlocked, like it always is in the morning, and when I step inside, the savory scent of bacon reaches my senses, and I know I’m right. Conrad’s back is to me when I walk into the kitchen, but at the sound of my footsteps, he glances over his shoulder, giving me a warm smile that makes the wrinkles around his eyes deepen.
“Good morning. You hungry?”
I nod. “I could eat, but mostly, I’m needing some coffee.”
“Help yourself.”
Things at the ranch are so much less awkward than when I first moved here, for which I’m thankful for. Conrad has been open and kind since the moment I arrived here, but living with someone you barely know, and feeling like you’re in the way or like you’re a burden, is a crummy feeling. Even though I’ve been gone for the rodeo circuit most of the time, we’ve still managed to get to know each other a little better, and things are comfortable around here. I don’t get nervous about coming in here to eat anymore, I’m glad to help him around the ranch with whatever he needs, and we’re able to co-exist pretty well.
This isn’t a forever home for me, by any means, but it would be nice to be able to stay here until I can buy a house. I spent a lot of time in Texas, renting apartment after apartment, and I don’t think I want to do that anymore. I’d like to put down roots and buy some land of my own. A pasture for Lottie to graze and roam. Maybe even get another horse or two, and some otherfarm animals. It’s kind of a far-off dream, especially while I’m traveling a huge chunk of the year for rodeo.
