Page 46 of Wild & Worthy

Me: Are you sure it’s Dusty who misses me?

Sunshine: I don't miss you, Walker. I miss the coffee maker you bought me.

Me: You miss having me around as eye candy. Just admit it.

Sunshine: I'm blocking your number

Twenty minutes later, she texts to ask if she should do another jackpot on the way to Colorado or let Dusty rest. I tell her she should probably let him rest, even if every part of me wants her to advance the pot. Somewhere in the middle of responding, it hits me that I’ve somehow found myself in a position in her life I never imagined I’d be in. She’s asking me for advice. More than that, I love that I’m the one she reaches out to. I wonder what it would be like to always be that person for her. Not just a guy she’s attracted to, but the person she seeks out when she needs something. Advice. Help. Someone to talk to. Whatever it is.

I want that so bad it scares me. So I put the phone down and go looking for a charger, because my cord's locked in the truck up on Hank's lift. I'm at nine percent, and I need something to do. Addie has to have a spare somewhere in the camper.

I’m digging through the bench seat storage when I spot a stack of notebooks. I move them out of the way, and a photograph slips out. It’s an old picture of me… of me? I can’t be more than nineteen here. I’m sitting on the back porch of Dawson Ranch, reading some book Addie’s dad loaned me. I don’t remember the day, but I remember the book. I don’t remember Addie taking the picture either. I shrug and go to stuff the picture back into the notebook, opening it to a random page, only to see my name scrawled along the edges with hearts decorating the space around it.

Holy shit.

I know I shouldn't, but my eyes go straight to the top of the page. The date is from years ago. Addie must've been twelve or thirteen. I shouldn't read it. It's wrong to read someone else's diary. But this is just too good. Besides, my name is all over the damn thing.

Chace came for dinner again. His grandma had to cover a shift at the diner where she works. After dinner, he let me ride on the back of the four-wheeler with him, even though Eli said it’s too dangerous. Chace always treats me like I am older, unlike Eli. Eli always babies me. He called me a kid right in front of Chace! I wanted to die.

Chace is so so cute! I’m going to marry Chace Walker someday. I haven't told anyone I have a crush on him. If anyone finds out, I swear I will just die!!!

The passage ends with my name underlined three times, and a dozen more hearts. I sit down on the edge of her bunk, and I can't do anything for a second but look at it.

I know she was only twelve, but something inside me can’t help feeling flattered that she had a thing for me, while another part wonders if maybe some piece of her still does. I’m such an ass for going through her things. I’m an even bigger ass for playing this game with her like it’s nothing. Like it could ever be anything more than that. Because even if she did want me once, or still does, Addie deserves better than a washed-up bull rider who’s broke and has no direction. She deserves the stars and the moon. A man who can give her everything her heart desires and more. The simple truth is, I’m not that man. People leave because I’m not enough. I never have been.

As if the universe is agreeing with me, a text comes in from Cole. The bulls are ready for transport. Pickup is at nine tonight, just a few miles outside the fairgrounds. A small event is happening at ten, and he’s already covered my entry fee.

I close the notebook and put it back exactly where I found it. Screw the charger. My phone can die.

Chapter sixteen

Addie

It’s two in the morning, and I’m sitting here by a dying campfire like a complete idiot. I should have gone to bed hours ago. I did try. Around midnight, I crawled into Chace’s tent, resigned to the fact that I wasn't getting my camper back tonight and would have to spend another night surrounded by his scent lingering on the pillow. Then my mind started running through every worst-case scenario for why he wasn't back yet, eventually landing on him dead in a ditch somewhere. The reality is probably much simpler, but once the image got into my head, I couldn't get it out. So I got back up and brought the fire to life again, hoping he isn't dead, because at this point, I've worked out at least a dozen ways to kill him myself.

Despite currently wanting to murder him, the last twenty-four hours without him have felt strangely off. I kept plenty busy today. It’s not like I need Chace around to get things done. It’s just that without our normal camp setup, everything feels a little more uncomfortable, a little harder to manage on my own. That’s all it is. I’ve just gotten too used to waking up to the smell of bacon cooking and fresh coffee waiting for me. The instant coffee at the fair office is just fine, I remind myself.

I’ve been managing myself and my rodeo career for years. I don’t need anyone’s help or input. But when I was working with Dusty earlier today, I started thinking about the jackpot we ran and how damn good it felt. Chace set it up, so when I started wondering if we should run another, I texted him. I didn’t really think about it. I just wanted his opinion, and asking him felt... natural. He told me to let Dusty rest, and I think he was right.

When the hell did Chace Walker’s opinion start mattering to me? Worse, when did he become the person I instinctively want to tell things to? I let out a sigh and poke at the fire, throwing on another log. I’m clearly not sleeping until I hear from him.

That’s what I can’t get past. When the truck tire blew, things really escalated between us on the side of the road. If that hauler hadn't shown up, God knows what would have happened on that lonely stretch of highway. Because in that moment, I was ready to throw in the towel and cave to everything I’ve been feeling for the last few weeks, consequences be damned.

And I didn't even stop there. I rose to his bait last night and sent him that picture of myself in my panties. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wanted to one-up him, to be the one who got a rise out of him for once. I’ve been having way too much fun giving back everything Chace dishes out, but somewhere along the way, we started pushing this game further and further. And apparently, I started reading more into it than I should have. Because look at me, it’s two in the morning, and I’m sitting here waiting for him while he’s off doing God knows what.

It’s a game to Chace. That’s all it’s ever been.

I’m the idiot who forgot that.

When he stopped responding to my texts, I didn't think anything of it at first. Around three, he'd told me there was an issue with the repair, and they had to wait a couple of hours for a replacement part from another garage. He'd also warned me his phone was dying, with his charger still locked in the truck up on the lift. So when my last text went unanswered, I figured his phone had finally died—no big deal.

Except that was almost eleven hours ago. Where the hell could he be, or have been doing for the last eleven hours?

This is Chace, after all. I don’t know how I could have magically forgotten who he is. Irresponsible, live-in-the-moment Chace. Maybe he ran into some buddies. Decided to stop at a bar. Perhaps he found some half-dressed buckle bunny to relieve all that sexual tension simmering between us, while I’ve been sitting here like an idiot, actually excited for him to come back.

Why do I even care if he’s off sleeping with someone right now? It’s not like he’s mine. Whatever is happening between us is just a game. He can sleep with whoever he wants.

This is exactly why Chace isn't relationship material. Not that I’m looking for a relationship. He’s reckless. Impulsive. He does whatever feels good in the moment. Chace is fun, but he isn't someone you depend on.