Page 4 of Ridin’ Dirty

Relieved.

That was the word he used.

He’d be relieved to not see me again.

“Hey.”

I snapped my gaze behind the bar, the motion enough to force a couple of tears to spill over my lashes and down my cheeks.

Rodeo was propped against the counter, the look in his eyes akin to pity.

“You need a drink?” he asked, not unkindly.

I couldn’t speak, Twister’s departure and everything it meant robbing me of my words.

“Come on, Lyla—what’d you expect? I know you’ve seen them together. She might be in the wind now, but nothin’s snuffin’ out the candle he’s got burnin’ for her.”

My chin began to wobble, and I knew there was no stopping the tears I was trying my damnedest to keep at bay—but I sure as hell wasn’t going to cry in the middle of Steel Mustang.

I turned on the heels of my cowgirl boots and hurried for the exit. The cool, night breeze did nothing to sooth me, and I choked on the sob clawing its way up my throat. I hurried toward the clubhouse, certain of only one thing.

I had to get out of there.

Three years ago, I ran from home and landed in Gillette. I’d lost everything that mattered to me, and the chance to roam amongst the Stallions felt like an opportunity at a fresh start. I wanted to do things my way. I wanted my choices to be mine and mine alone. I ached to be in control of my own life. But now—now I was forced to face the reality that I didn’t belong in Gillette. Not anymore.

I wasn’t sure where I belonged.

Once at the clubhouse, I sprinted through the main lounge toward the lady’s den. At least, that’s what we called it. There were four of us girls who considered the clubhouse our home. We shared a room, tucked away behind the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly paradise, but it was never meant to be permanent, either.

I didn’t see it coming that I’d be leaving like this.

I didn’t have much. I was twenty-three with hardly more than a couple hundred dollars to my name when I left home. I arrived on the compound in the only thing I had of value—my dad’s old nineteen sixty-seven Ford Mustang—my duffle stuffed full in the backseat. It was that same duffle I was shoving full of clothes when Charity entered the room.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

I shook my head, bothering neither to lie nor look up at her.

“What happened? What are you doin’?”

“I’m getting out of here.”

“Like—leavin’?”

I nodded sending more tears racing down my cheeks. The humiliation I felt was overwhelming, even in front of Charity. She’d been around for longer than me. She helped me settle in when I arrived. We were friends. We were each other’s confidants. She knew the depths of my feelings for Twister as much as I knew she was down bad for Slick. I never really saw the appeal, but to each her own.

“Stop,” she pleaded. She stood on the opposite side of my bed and yanked my duffle out of reach, forcing me to look up at her. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t stay here! I can’t act like it doesn’t hurt like hell every time I see him. What am I supposed to do? Stay wasted while I pretend every dick I take is his? I’m such an idiot.”

I swiped at my cheeks angrily, resenting myself for being a fool.

“You’re not an idiot.” She sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “You’re the prettiest of us all. Don’t even try to deny it. We all know it’s true. You’re fuckin’ Snow White around here.”

I scoffed, reaching for my bag once more. “Yeah, well, I didn’t get the guy.”

She was silent for a moment, with no argument against the truth.

“Where will you go?”