Page 160 of Saltwater Cowboy

I could hear the regret in his words, but it didn’t change anything. It didn’t undo the way I felt.

I didn’t move, didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say.

Another knock, softer now. “Rose?”

Nothing. I couldn’t speak. The house was so quiet that I could hear the sound of my own heart breaking, piece by piece.

And in the quiet, I realized something: I was angry at myself for letting him in.

I stayed in that silence for what felt like hours, my mind racing with everything I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words.

Eventually, I heard his footsteps retreating down the stairs, slow and measured, as if he was finally giving up on me. My chest felt heavy, the weight of everything that had just unfolded pressing down on me. I reached for my phone with trembling hands, dialing Blythe’s number.

“Hey, what’s up?” Blythe’s voice came through, calm and light, but I could feel the tension still sitting heavily in my bones.

“Wells is a jerk,” I muttered, my words coming out like a bitter hiss.

“What happened?” she asked, her tone immediately sharp with concern.

“He’s going out with Marie again,” I said, the sting of it hitting me all over again.

“Remind me… Marie is…”

“The nurse he went out with a while ago.”

“And Wells agreed to go out with her again?” she asked, disbelief coloring her voice.

“Yep.”

“That’s not like him. Want me to have Charlie pry it out of him?” she offered, clearly ready to step in.

“No,” I sighed, running a hand through my damp hair. “I just needed to feel validated.”

“Rose, you guys have such a complicated situation over there. Have you even talked about what you are?”

“No,” I said quietly, feeling the weight of the question settle over me like a cold blanket.

“Then you can’t really be mad at him for going out with her if you don’t even know what you are.”

I froze. Her words sliced through me, raw and honest. “We’ve had a lot of sex. I thought we were exclusive.”

“But you never talked about it?” she pressed gently.

I shook my head, frustration and hurt bubbling up inside me. “No.”

“Then you need to check your anger and admit what you want to yourself,” Blythe said, her voice soft but firm.

I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle deeper into my chest. She was right, but it didn’t make the hurt any less.

Blythe changed the subject. “Are you two still coming over for dinner tomorrow?”

“Last I checked, we were.”

“Great. Then let’s pick this up when you get here tomorrow.”

As I hung up, I stared at the phone in my hand, the silence around me pressing down on my chest. Blythe’s words echoed in my mind: What do you want?

I sank back against the bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. I hadn’t considered it—what I really wanted. We’d been living in this gray area, a mix of intimacy and uncertainty, for so long that it felt like I’d forgotten how to ask myself the question.