Page 17 of Where We Burn


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Screw it, I said it.

“Are you happy with him?” he finally asks, and I nod because I’m not unhappy. I’m just… not burning. “Then no, I don’t have a problem.”

The jukebox shifts to a slower song behind us. Laughter echoes near the pool table, while someone else is hollering from the back corner. The bar is noisy, but none of it really registers when he’s looking at me like that.

“It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I have been.” His honesty lands hard between us. “But I’m sorry if it made you feel like it was something you did.”

“So it wasn’t?”

“It was,” he admits. “But not because you’re dating my son.” He knocks back the rest of his drink in one smooth motion and sets the glass down with a soft clink. “It’s because you started dating anyone.”

My heart stumbles in my chest.

He was into me, and I missed it.

What the hell do I even do with that?

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says, shrugging like he hasn’t just shifted my entire world off its axis. “As long as Travis treats you right, that’s all I care about.”

“Well, will you start coming back to the bar more? It hasn’t been the same here without you.”

He looks at me for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry. I’ll be around. Everything will be fine from here on out.”

But it doesn’t feel fine. It feels like I just found something I didn’t know I’d lost, only to realize I can’t keep it.

I think about that night more often than I should. The way Christian looked me dead in the eye, admitting, in his own roundabout way, that he was attracted to me before slamming the door on it like he hadn’t just rearranged my entire brain. He lit the match, watched me catch fire, and then handed me a bucket of ice water with a pat on the head.

But staying with Travis—hell, even starting something with Travis—was probably my first mistake in a long list of them.

I don’t know what kind of shit I pulled in a past life to earn this karmic lesson, but clearly, I pissed off the universe’s pettiest gods because this is the kind of punishment that shows you exactly what you could’ve had, just in time to remind you you’ll never, ever get it.

Because now that I’ve had the son, there’s no way I’m ever getting the daddy.

And now here I am, stuck listening to Travis complain again while I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at a pile of clothes I haven’t even touched.

“Do you really need all this, Piper?”

Do I really need you, Travis?

No. A thousand times, no.

But if putting up with Travis’s dull, lifeless personality and endless manipulative bullshit means I get to spend two weeks staring at his dad, who is undoubtedly the hottest piece of cowboy ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of objectifying, then I’ll grit my teeth, nod, and pretend to care because Christian Crawford is worth every second of this misery.

I try to talk about him in a way that doesn’t give me away or force me to admit what my heart is screaming at me—that my attraction to him runs deeper than the physical. It’s not just his body, though that alone is enough to keep me up at night. It’s him. It’s his whole energy and the way he carries himself.

And what did I do? I went and dated his son like the dumbass I am.

I promised to help up the mountain while Christian was busy with Christmas tree preparations and farm work, and I refuse to be the woman who backs out and becomes another complication in their already complicated family dynamic.

I know it’s dangerous territory, but I’m walking right into this withmy eyes wide open, knowing that all I’ll ever get to do islookat that mountain of a man. But honestly, I did this to myself when I friend-zoned us both before I even realized there was more on the table, all because I said yes to the wrong Crawford.

Travis and I have reached a point where everything he does irritates me. Even the way he stands there staring at my half-packed bags is enough to piss me off, and after last night’s charming little performance where he demanded a blow job like I should be grateful for the privilege of having him in my bed? Yeah, that was the final nail in this relationship’s coffin.

I’m sure Travis thinks he’s doing me a favor by bringing me along to the family farm, but I’m not going for him.I’ll be there for the cowboy with the arms that look like they could lift entire tractors—arms that could pin me to a wall just as easily as they could pull me close. I’m going for the way he looks at me when Travis isn’t paying attention and the way he listens when I talk, making me feel like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

I want to trace that cowboy’s jaw with my tongue, not just my lips. I want to feel the burn of his stubble against my skin and find out if he tastes as good as he looks.