The Natural History of Us (13 page)

But why did that mean
I
had be a part of it?

Pushing the selfish thought away, I say, “Riding in the exhibition will put the new clinic and day camps on the map. I have to do it. It's not like anyone else can ride in my place.”

A quick glance at Faith confirms my suspicion. She lifts her hands in the air and takes a giant step back. “Sorry, girl, but you know I don't do the fast stuff. Rodeo Queen? That, I'm all over. But chasing cans and racing?” She shakes her head again with a grimace. “I love you something fierce, but put me out there and I guarantee no one will be signing up for classes. They'd be running for the exits after I spew my lunch.”

“And you know I'd do it in a heartbeat if I could,” Cade says, looking frustrated and helpless. When the proverbial shit hit the fan three years ago, he was the one to pick up the scattered pieces. Jumping in and saving the day is kind of his shtick, but in this case his hands are tied. “Though it would be one way to get attention for the ranch...”

“It's just not quite the kind we're shooting for,” I finish with a laugh.

Guys aren't exactly welcome in this event, and while Mama may've been a pole-bender and show jumper in her day, that was a long time ago. That only leaves me.

I smother a sigh and scrub a hand across my face. “I'll figure something out.”

“Seriously, what in the
hell
is going on here?”

At Justin's annoyed, borderline angry tone, I squeeze my eyes shut behind my hand. Of course he'd be here for this.

I've avoided looking at him since Mama went inside. Seeing her hug him again, not having a clue how he'd broken my heart, not even knowing we dated at all, was hard enough. Seeing the way her touch affected
him
? I just don't get it.

Justin acts as though he misses me. Like our time together actually meant something. If that were true, though, he wouldn't have thrown it all away. Now he's back, screwing
up my life two short weeks before freedom hits. And he's discovering all my secrets.

When I don't answer, Justin takes hold of my elbow. He tugs, and in spite of myself, I turn around. “What am I missing here?” he asks, and the question is so similar to what he asked on his first visit, the day he learned about my illness, that I laugh once and throw my head back.

Lord. Life is nothing but a string of crazy, wrapped up in a giant ball of what-the-hell.

“I got hurt riding,” I admit to the sky, knowing he won't drop it until I do. “Years ago. I don't do it anymore.”

Of course, I saddle up for birthday parties. During lessons, I hop on to demonstrate a particular skill, and I even get up to a trot along with the student. But I don't ride free, I never go fast, and I refuse to go anywhere near barrels.

My cheeks flush as I remember the way my body failed me, and when I lower my head, Justin's eyes are flared with concern.

No
. He doesn't get to look sad for me. Not when
he
hurt me first.

“You can take that pity in your eyes and shove it,” I bite out, poking him hard in the chest. “I don't want it or need it. I'm doing just fine the way I am.”

Instead of looking put in his place, or hell, even guilty, the jerkoff smiles. The nerve.

“You're right.” He folds his arms as that dang disarming grin grows. “You don't need my pity. The girl I remember was strong and could do anything she set her mind to. A setback wouldn't get in the way of anything she wanted. Anything she
believed
in.”

Damn him. He emphasized the perfect word to get under my skin, and he knows it, too. Despite my fears, I do believe in this new school, in its ability to resurrect our finances and put
the ranch back in the black. But that doesn't mean he gets the final word.

“Oh yeah? Well maybe what I want has changed since you knew me,” I say, leaning back into Cade's chest. He tenses behind me and wraps a protective arm around my waist. My gut clenches beneath the embrace.

I. Am going. To Hell.

Picking a fight, deflecting the truth, and using Cade's feelings for me to do it is wrong, so wrong, on so many levels. What makes it even suckier? Justin sees right through it.

Nodding slowly, he stares at the hand resting just above the snap of my jeans. “Maybe.” Then he raises his eyes to mine. “But you haven't changed the person you are deep down inside.”

The intensity in his gaze rocks me to my soul. He's just a guy, a jerk-face half the time, but I swear it's like he can read every thought in my head.

Maybe I'm that transparent.

Maybe he did know me, and our relationship wasn't a
total
lie.

But none of that matters. The only thing that does is how we ended.

Misreading the sudden stiffness in my arms, Cade's grip around me tightens. “Don't you have anyone else to annoy right now?”

Justin continues undeterred. “I get it, okay? I hurt you. I made a mistake three years ago that I desperately regret and I have to live with that. But, Peyton, I know you. Right now, you're scared as hell. You're telling yourself that you're scared of the horse, of failing, or even letting down your parents, and hey, all that might be true,” he says before I can jump in. “But what you won't admit is what
really
scares you.”

Showing just how weak I am, I fall right into his trap. “And what's that?”

Justin grins like he won some kind of battle and the effect does insane things to my belly.

“What really scares you,” he says, “is the huge part of you that so badly wants to do this. Wants to push herself again and prove to everyone that she can.”

His gaze holds me entranced as breaths saw in and out of my chest. Fear pools with what dangerously feels like excitement in my core, shooting out through my body until it reaches my fingertips. My mouth tumbles open in an exhale, unable to contain it, and that wicked grin detonates into a full-on devastating smile.

Beside me, Faith whispers, “
Hot damn
.”

Justin releases me from his stare but he doesn't swing it to Faith. He targets Cade as he delivers his final blow. “And I, for one, believe in you.”

Cade sucks in air, staggering a bit as if he got the wind knocked out of him, and I snap out of the trance. What in heaven's name is happening here? Have I learned
nothing
from the past? Justin is persuasive and charming. He's proven time and again that he can sweet-talk the pants off any girl he wants, flooding the school with victims of his smile. That doesn't mean he gets to work his magic on me. Not anymore.

Standing tall, I throw my shoulders back and stare into his smug, all-knowing eyes. “Yeah, well, it's too bad I stopped caring what you think the day you broke my heart,” I tell him with a bitter smile before turning on my heel and walking away.

“Kid
are you sure your old man won't check his stash?”

I lifted my eyes from my phone and smirked at Carlos, each of his hands wrapped around the neck of a bottle from my father's liquor cabinet. “Even if he did, it wouldn't matter,” I replied. Hell, if he did happen to notice and thrash me around, at least he'd remember I existed.

Carlos squinted at me but went back to moving all the liquor to the living room, and I returned to staring at Peyton's text.

Dandelion and Oakley think you should stop back by sometime
:)

Who the hell named their pit bull Dandelion? Evidently, the same girl who named her horse after a tough-ass gunslinger, quoted inspirational posters, and had a smile sweeter than honey. And damn it if all those things didn't make me want her that much more.

Two weeks had passed since the day at her ranch. Two weeks since she'd told me about her illness and showed that inner-fire. When I got home, I'd looked up GBS on the Internet.
She was right—it was rare. Even crazier, no one seemed to know how people got it. It wasn't genetic. Sometimes it was preceded by a cold or the flu, but not in every case. Often, healthy people, athletes even, went from walking around and living life one day to lying immobilized in a hospital bed the next.

I still couldn't believe she'd gone through that and came out the way she had. Positive. Determined. If I'd been in her place, losing the ability to move and control my body, just lying there helpless without any answers, who knows what I would've done. Most likely complained and given up.

More than attraction, I admired this girl. Which honestly pissed me off.

Peyton was off-limits. I knew that. I just kept forgetting why.

“Do you guys mind if I fast forward through this crap?” Brandon asked, already skipping ahead on the video. I pocketed my phone without replying to Peyton's message. “We're behind time and I want to get to the action.”

“Hell yes I mind,” Drew replied, snatching the remote from our pitcher's hand. “I like the human interest shit. If I'm gonna watch two dudes beat the shit out of each other, I want to be emotionally
invested
.”

He glanced at me and grinned, rewinding to the beginning. I shrugged, honestly not caring either way. As long as I wasn't alone, they could do whatever the hell they wanted.

Dad was traveling again, and Annabeth had taken my brother to her parents' house. Rosalyn always had weekends off, which meant I'd have the house to myself until Monday. Most people think this would be awesome—visions of Tom Cruise dancing in his underwear in that old movie flash through their mind. But the truth is, being alone sucks. The walls close in, the silence is deafening, and you can only play so many video games before you slowly go insane.

Unfortunately, my usual distractions weren't appealing, so I'd invited a few of the guys to watch the fight on Pay-Per-View.

“The personal stories are all fluff,” Carlos replied, settling down with a bottle of Jim Beam. “But if you fast-forward through the octagon girls, I'm gonna have to hurt you.”

I shook my head with a laugh. Carlos, I'd quickly learned, was all talk. Pushing to my feet, I headed to the large cooler in the corner as the announcers began discussing the title fight.

“Did you guys watch that dude on Ultimate Fighter last season?” I asked, pointing at Alex Ryan's face on the screen. Taking out an ice-cold beer, I twisted off the cap. “Broke his damn toe in the middle of the first round and kept on attacking. This match is gonna be a bloodbath.”

Drew turned up the volume and we all fell silent as we listened to Joe Rogan make his predictions. A video package started, showing Alex and his opponent training in their home gyms and wrapping up their previous fights. They'd both bested the most insane competition ever to enter the octagon, proven themselves when and where it counted, and made it to the top. Win or lose tonight, they deserved their spots.

That's all I wanted at the end of the day—for people to say that about me. That
I'd
beaten the best and earned my spot. That I belonged there… wherever
there
was. I hoped it was baseball, and so far, Coach seemed to agree. He'd already pulled me aside a few times after practice, gave me tips during unstructured period, and was even nominating me for an invite-only catcher showcase, despite the fact that I was only a freshman. Things were trucking along exactly the way I wanted them to. I just had to make sure it stayed that way.

“Now there's my honey right there,” Carlos said as a girl with a deep tan, long dark hair, and a huge rack strutted away from the cage. She sat back in her chair and winked at the camera. “That girl wants me.”

I waved away the tequila Brandon held in my direction and plopped my ass on the couch. “Man, if a girl like that ever came at you, you'd piss your pants.”

The guys cracked up laughing, and Carlos scoffed. “False.” Then, after thinking about it, said, “Actually, truth. But only because her muscle-head boyfriend would kick my ass. I'm really more of a lover than a fighter.”