The Natural History of Us (26 page)

What the…
Oh
. “Sure!” A strange mix of pride and embarrassment flushed my cheeks, turning my face what had to be five shades of red and I stuttered, “T-take your time. Really. However long you need. You know. Until things get, uh, back to normal.”

Justin chuckled at my inane mutterings, and I quickly spun on my heel, heading back toward the main house before I could say anything more idiotic. Could I possibly be a bigger virginal nitwit? But, make-out-newb or not, as I rapped on the post outside Oakley's door and waltzed out the barn, there was no fighting my Cheshire-cat-like grin.

Walking
back out onto the doghouse porch, I can't help remembering that Easter all those years ago. What on earth possessed me to bring it up? We were having a good, mostly uncomfortable, innuendo-free time, and my brilliant self just had to go and throw
that
into the mix.

In times like this, I seriously consider wearing a muzzle.

Sure, the thought of Justin being alone again for another holiday hit me solid in the chest, and I reacted purely out of instinct, wanting to make him smile. But the truth is, he's probably spent
every
holiday alone since our breakup. And that…
God
… that sucks.

“Hey.” Metal chains clank together in a funky melody as Justin stands up from the porch swing. My gaze falls to his sling and an unwanted shiver racks my spine.
I was so scared
… “All set?”

“Yep.” I shove my hands in my back pockets and direct my gaze toward the grass. A midnight blue extended pick-up roars to life and the owner, Mr. Hamilton, waves a goodbye.
“Sparky's eating a pig's ear in her deluxe accommodations as we speak,” I say, watching the truck's taillights disappear down the worn path.

Cade has a truck similar to Mr. Hamilton's. Dark blue, lots of room to store and transport ranch equipment. He loves that truck. Even though his parents are well-off, Cade worked his fingers to the bone, taking extra shifts and saving every penny he made so he could buy it himself. I'll never forget the pride in his eyes the day he cut the check to the dealership.

A fresh wave of guilt comes with the memory.

How can I even
think
about that Easter? I have a boyfriend—an incredible boyfriend—who, yeah, has been getting on my nerves a bit lately, and his jealous comments aren't exactly attractive… but obviously, his feelings are justified. If our relationship was as solid as it should be, as I used to
think
it was, memories like that spring night wouldn't keep popping up. And Cade wouldn't feel so threatened.

So really, this is all my fault.
Surprise, surprise
.

“You okay?”

Justin touches my elbow to gain my attention, and electricity shoots up my arm.

Cade, Cade, CADE
.

“Yeah,” I say, twisting slightly away from the touch. Ignoring the way his eyes darken. “Just thinking is all.”

Justin shifts back on his feet and studies me. Either he reads my thoughts or decides against asking because instead of pushing for details, he says, “Guess it's time for our experiment.”

Huh? “What experiment?”

A small smile forms on his lips but he doesn't answer as he walks past me silently, down the porch steps and back out toward the barn. Since I want answers, I have no choice but to follow.

As I rush to catch up, I remember him saying something about an experiment once we finished our FACS assignment. We'd been talking about riding just before then… oh crap.

When I'm still a few steps behind, he says over his shoulder, “Tell me what went through your head while you were riding Oakley.”

I groan, realizing exactly what the so-called experiment is about, and he glances at me with an apology in his eyes. “You said you didn't make it past the first barrel, but I'm curious what you felt before that? When you walked Oakley out on the course.”

My insides squeeze painfully as I mentally step back onto the barrel racing course. “I don't know… nervous, I guess. Curious if things would magically be different this time. Mostly doubting they would be. But, you know, for a split-second there,” I shake my head and huff a humorless laugh, “I actually fooled myself into thinking they might.”

Justin frowns at this and pulls me to a stop just inside the entrance to the barn. He blinks to adjust his eyes to the dim lighting, then leans a shoulder against the beam. “What changed?”

I shrug. “I mean, at first it felt great. It felt like it used to. The wind whipping my hair, Oakley's hooves pounding the earth—it brought back every memory of every race we'd ever done together. But then…” I swallow down the rising panic. “The memories, the bad ones, got to be too much. I lost control, let the fear win over, and I flat out freaked.” Shame and weakness saturate my skin as I close my eyes and relieve the sensation of failure. “It was a complete disaster.”

“Was anyone with you?” His voice is so soft that I open my eyes, finding his filled with compassion. I shake my head, once, and he asks, “Not even Cade?”

“Not watching, no. I didn't want anyone to see,” I confess, humiliation burning my cheeks. Oh, how I loathe my fair skin. “If I let everyone down again, and I knew I would, I couldn't—”

“See, right there,” he interrupts, and I jerk my head back. “Sunshine, you didn't have a prayer. From the second you entered that course, you were already defeated. You can't do that—you have to believe in here,” he moves close and brushes two fingers across my heart, “and in here,” he says moving them over my temple and keeping them there, “that you
will
succeed. That you have what it takes. You've done it before, it's all muscle memory by now. Oakley knows what's what. But until you believe it yourself, push past that fear and doubt, you'll never do it.”

Justin's palm gently cups to cradle my cheek as he stares into my eyes. His golden brown irises are intense with emotion, more than I ever remember seeing before. “Victory starts in your head, Peyton. You know that.”

As an athlete, Justin's heard a million pep talks, most of them probably from my dad. But this seems to go so much deeper than that. I can't help but wonder if perhaps, with his recent injury, this speech of his is as much for
him
as it is for me.

“You also did it alone,” he scolds, ducking his chin and raising a sharp eyebrow, reminding me of Mama when she's in über-serious mode. I bite the flesh of my cheek to hide my smile. “When are you going to see that you're surrounded by people who want to help? Who love and care about you?” Any comment I would've made flies right out of my head when his thumb begins tracing the shell of my ear. “You might not want to hear it, but I'm one of them.”

This is when you should push him away
.

Instead, my hands find their way to the soft cotton of his T-shirt and grip.

Justin takes another step closer and places his hands on either side of my head, caging me in against the wall. “Next time you do something huge like this, or even something small, I want you to call me, okay? You have to know I'll always come running. You snap your pretty little fingers,” he says and a
click
sounds near my ear, “and I'm here. Just like that.”

My chest rises and falls with increased breaths and I shift my gaze between his eyes. Is he serious? Up until a couple weeks ago, we didn't even make eye contact, we avoided each other for years… and now I'm supposed to
call
him? Trust him to help me?

But then, a lot has changed in two short weeks.

Slowly, sneakily, in ways I didn't always catch, but happened regardless, things shifted. My defenses toppled, the wall I thought I'd built so high in order to keep from getting hurt again: obliterated. Justin bulldozed his way right through every obstacle I lay in his path—almost as if they never existed.

“Stop overthinking it, Sunshine,” he murmurs. His fingertips caress my cheek as he slides a strand of hair behind my ear. Tingles shoot across my scalp. “I see those wheels turning. You're just gonna have to accept that we'll be together again one day. Once you stop fighting it so hard, you'll see what I see.”

I lick my dry lips and ask, “And what do you see?” though my voice is suddenly so breathless I doubt he understands me. Somehow, he must, because his smile grows.

“Inevitability,” he replies, and a rush of sensation curls through my body.

It begins at the nape of my neck, forcing my head back against the wood. It courses down my spine, straight through to my toes. Excitement, disbelief, a hint of anger, and an even stronger dose of an emotion I'm too afraid to name zings through me as my eyes lock on his. My rapid breaths bring with it the sweet scent of hay and the clean scent of boy—soap,
a hint of mint, and Justin. He has an intoxicating scent all his own. It was once my addiction.

Our mouths hover just a hairsbreadth apart, and every instinct, every desire screams at me to close the gap. Just as I concede the fight, a screen door slams in the distance. I squeeze my eyes shut.

This is wrong. So wrong. Even having this conversation is wrong. It's not fair to Cade, and the emotions Justin's words have stirred within me make me feel as guilty as if I'd actually done the deed. Cade has been my rock for so long, and Justin… he
destroyed
me freshman year.

Why do I keep forgetting that?

When a cool rush of air replaces the heat of his body, my eyes snap open. Justin is standing a few feet away, his face a mask of calm, collected, confidence—and he's wearing a smirk like he'd just won a freaking Championship.

“But for now, what do you say we get you up on that horse?”

I swear, it's enough to give a girl whiplash. But, he is giving me an out from the conversation, and, like it or not, I
do
need his help if I want to save our ranch. So, ignoring the hand Justin holds out to me, I nod and waltz past him.

“We can try,” I reply, ignoring the possible double meaning to his words.

It's not truly until Oakley's ready and it's time to head out for the course that nerves explode in my stomach. What if Justin can't help? What if the same exact thing that happened last time happens again? A repeat may just break me.

“Hop on,” Justin instructs with a tap of his fingers on the saddle. “I'll walk you out.”

My body freezes with one boot in the stirrup. “You're not going anywhere… are you?”

He smiles gently. “No, Sunshine, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here until you kick my ass to the curb. But let's take this one step at a time, all right?”

I nod, swallowing hard, and swing my other leg over Oakley. Gripping her with my knees, I lean down and lay my cheek against her chestnut mane. “We've got this.” She whinnies softly in reply and I say, “Forget about last time. Or the time before that,” I add, stopping that flashback before it can even begin. “Today's a new day.”

Please, Lord, let it be a
successful
new day.

As Justin begins leading us outside, I go through a mental checklist of what I need to do. It's heartbreaking in so many ways—what used to feel as natural as breathing, and every bit as necessary, has somehow turned into this… an obstacle to conquer. As we approach the barrels, I almost can't bring myself to look at them, but eventually I do. I can't let the fear win out this round. Not with Justin's too perceptive gaze so hot on my left cheek.

“See,” he says, lifting his chin toward the barrel course. “Nothing to it, right?”

I want to roll my eyes, but don't since I know he's trying to help. Of course there's nothing to this yet. All we've done is step out onto the field. It's everything that remains that's the challenge here… but this is where, yet again, Justin surprises me.