Page 64 of Wild Lies

His voice fades away as I stare down at my screen, scrolling through the notifications. We haven’t had cell service for a few hours, and my phone is quickly filled with messages as they come through.

Autumn

**sent a link**

Gracie

Ooo, what’s this?

Olivia

If you’re sending thrust traps again I’m going to block you.

Autumn

I would never.

Typing bubbles appear, and I lift my head, waiting for the telltale buzz of a new message. This happens a lot on the family group chat. It’s like they forget that we don’t all need or want to look at half-naked men.

Gracie

These pictures are AMAZING.

Who’s the photographer?

My interest is piqued and I’m about to scroll to the link Autumn sent when another message comes through.

Autumn

It’s Chloe, Kade’s mystery woman. I follow her and had to share so we can support her, seeing as she’s staying in town now.

Another message comes through within seconds.

Gracie

Kade, are you looking at changing careers?!

A tightness seizes my chest as nausea rises in my throat. I squeeze my hand around the device, sweat gathering on my palm. Chloe would never post a picture of me. She knows what’s at risk. But she’s been pushing me to tell them. Would she really force my hand? I could lose everything. She knows this. They’ve got to be talking about something else.

Autumn

Ooo. What has she posted? A customer came in so I could only share the link to her profile.

A bubble appears before disappearing. I want to throw my phone across the field, but my need to know what Gracie is talking about is far stronger. The bubble appears again, twisting the knot in my stomach even tighter.

Gracie

You should check out the last picture…

Fuck.

She knows.

My stomach drops before being quickly replaced by fury. It rushes through me, and when a screenshot of a picture comes through, I kick Duke, forcing him into a gallop. It’s the one she took the first night of the rodeo. The one she promised me wouldn’t see the light of day. I should have asked her to delete it, not trusted that she’d keep it to herself. I’m on the back of my horse, holding on for dear life as it bucks beneath me, and although my face is covered, that goddamn buckle gives away my identity.

Beau calls out to me, my name getting lost on the breeze that rushes past my ears.

I don’t respond. I can’t.