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“Men don’t hurt women,” he stated, his jaw tightening. “Men who do pay.”
She didn’t scream. She wasn’t afraid of me. She just stared,
“My name is Harmony,” she said softly. Of course, it was. She was the song running through my head for months, over and over, like a broken record. I couldn’t get enough.
Mase. She called me Mase.
I was damaged goods. He deserved someone good—whole. So, not wanting to, I tried to push him away.
“This is also, eventually, me getting down on one knee and putting my ring on your finger. This would be us starting a family, because I do want children, always have. If you don’t, I’ll learn how to deal, because that’s how much I fucking want you. That’s how much I want this, Harmony. You weren’t a part of my plan, but I have been thanking the heavens above every single day for hearing your cry for help.”
“You needed me, and I came, baby. I’ll always come. Don’t give a fuck who I gotta go through. You call, I come.”
“I’m poison to cowboys, Mason.” He shook his head again, his throat bobbing. “How can you be poison when you’re my cure?” he asked.
Mason wasn’t riding bulls for the fun of it or the money. Mason Langston rode bulls to fight his demons.
“God ain’t here, baby. If you wanted God, you should’ve stayed away from cowboys,”
He had all of me, damaged or not. I was his.
“Loved you the second I saw you and every second after that, Little Song.”
“Sammy is mine, you hear me? He doesn’t get her. That’s my daughter. If somehow, a cowboy like me gets into heaven, that little girl is mine. Fuck, I love her so much.”
