Page 56 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

Right for the jugular. Fuck. A humorless laugh escapes me. “Obviously, I know she’s not anything like my parents. This is the most intense love I’ve ever felt and maybe my brain is confusing it with my past. Just need to work on separating the thoughts more. That makes sense though. Fucking trauma, man.”

“Right. Your past is like gasoline and depression is the fire. By itself, the depression ebbs and flows, but it remains mostly manageable. Shoot some gasoline on it, and it’s all blown sky high. That’s not your fault, though it is your responsibility to see.” I’m full-on crying now. I know he’s right and fuck, do I hate it. I hate it so fucking much, but I know I can hate it and still change it all the same.

Justin encourages me to keep doing the work and we schedule to see each other next week. I text Dahlia to tell her I had therapy today and it helped a lot. She hearts the message, but doesn’t respond for the rest of the night.

FORTY-THREE

i fell in love with you and your sweaty ass hands

Dahlia

By the endof the week, I feel like a shell of a person. I’ve made it a point to avoid Daphne at every turn. At least with Wes, he can’t see me and know, but Daphne can read me like a book. I’m packed up and splashing cold water in my face when Daphne comes into the bathroom.

“You don’t have to say anything, and I’m giving you space, but you need to take care of yourself. You need to let others take care of you too. We love you, and that doesn’t change no matter what your brain says.” She rubs my back and slinks away before I have the chance to argue.

Wes is standing outside his truck with a bouquet of flowers, colorful and sprawling out of their wrapped stems. “Hello, Princess,” he says, opening his arms for a hug. I melt into him like gooey chocolate, trying to absorb every ounce of love in his body. I feel like shit for being so distant and here he is, flowers in hand, ready to keep caring for me. Daphne barrels down thestairs behind her runaway suitcase before looking up with a laugh.

“Look at this handsome gentleman! So respectful, so kind! Where is my handsome gentleman or gentlewoman? Not fair,” she quips. We load into Wes’ car and he loads his favorite playlist for the ride to the farm.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, to finally have you back in my arms. You doing okay?” he asks as we pull out of the city.

“I’m okay, just tired.” The lie falls out like sticky tar, but I don’t know what else to say. He doesn’t look at all convinced, but reaches over to stop my fidgeting hands. He pulls my hand into his lap and brushes his thumb back and forth over my knuckles. Daphne is loudly singing along in the back, before her phone dings and she goes quiet again.

The truck pulls into the long stretch of land leading to Big Al’s. The dirt road is lined in autumnal beauty and falling leaves. I roll my window down and stick my head out, breathing deeply, eyes closed. Wes parks us outside his cabin to drop our bags off before we head to see everyone. Daphne says she’s taking a shower and before I can think about hiding out in my room, Wes snags my backpack and pulls me closer.

“Can we talk? I was worried something was up, but now you look like you’re ready to hide out in the spare room, like you don’t belong in mine. Come on, baby.” He takes my hand so gently and leads me to his bedroom. He sits legs spread on the edge of bed and pulls me to stand between them.“Talk to me. I want to know what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.”

I hold off on crying for a good fifteen seconds, before I start sobbing. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Baby, what’s going on?” His voice is full of tenderness I’m not sure I deserve.

“I just—” Fuck I wish I could stop crying. “I’m overwhelmed. I feel like I’ve had a five-day panic attack and at this point, I don’t even know why.”

“My Dahlia. I’m so sorry. You have so much going on lately. I’m sorry I haven’t been trying to check in more, I didn’t want to push too hard. I want to be here for you. You’re my person and I want to take care of you in all ways.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Wes. What now? We ride off into the sunset together and the end? This doesn’t last forever and it’s going to destroy me when it ends.”

“When it ends? Baby, I see no end in sight. I don’t want an end. Where is this coming from?”

“Everything. The grant, school, my stupid fucking life. My dad texted me. Asked if I had trapped anyone yet like my mom trapped him. How fucked up is that? And worse still, I worry he’s right. Why would you stay with me? I guess the grant proposal would make for an awkward break up, but I could walk away from it. If it’s what you wanted.” I can feel the words pouring out of me, attempting to inflict a fraction of the pain I feel.

“I want to stay with you, I want to be with you. Your dad is the embodiment of garbage. I’m sorry, but that’s no reflection on you. There is no awkward break up or you giving up this project, because it’s not what I want. You’re spiraling with these thoughts right now, but none of this is true or how I feel.”

I don’t mean to, but I flinch with his words. “I’m spiraling? I’m spiraling. Okay.” I start to retreat, attempting to pull myself free from his hold.

“Dahlia, that’s not what I meant. Fuck. I’m sorry, it was a bad choice of words. I mean this line of thinking is going nowhere fast and it’s hurting you.”

“But see, this is how it will be with us. I will spiral and you’ll eventually grow sick of it. It’s too much for one person to bear and it’s not fair for me to dump it on you.”

Wes stands and I start to move out of the way, seeing as he’s agreeing with me. He takes my shaking hands in his before trading spots with me as he sits me on the bed. The sad look on his face says it all and I know this must be the end.

But then he lowers to his knees in front of me, cradling my hands like they’re something precious.

“There is no amount of too much for me with you. Dahlia, baby, you have my heart and I would carry yours forever. The voice you hear telling you this is too much doesn’t see you the way I do. The woman I see is kind, loving, smart.” He moves to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind my ear as I cry. “She’s funny and such a good dancer. The anxious voice is a real bitch, but it’s not true, and it’s certainly not you.”

The sight of Wes on his knees before me has my heart swelling.

“I care about you so much. I feel like I don’t know how to not mess everything up constantly,” I reply through tears.