Burned & Bound (Love Doesn’t Cure All)

by A. Winchester

“No, y’all decided to bury your fucking heads in the sand, and for what?” I gestured around me. “For some fucking land? For fucking cows? You failed him—all of you—when you decided his worth wasn’t more than this stupid fucking business. Than a stupid fucking job!” “Now, it ain’t like that—” “It is like that!” I interrupted. How could none of them understand that?

“I would’ve burned the whole fucking place to the ground before I let him run away afraid for his life.”

“PTSD is a bitch of a thing. It shreds apart all the things you knew about yourself and then keeps on taking from things you never thought it could touch.”

“I’d rather go through hell with you, West, than watch it destroy you.”

“I’m not worth it,” I whispered breathlessly against his mouth. “You just let me keep believing that for the both of us,”

But I was used to chasing after West. Growing up, we’d always been like this. On a horse, he was fast and reckless. Free and unrestrained. His pick in horses always reflected that part of him. And me? I never minded chasing him down. Hell, I still didn’t. There was an exhilaration in pushing myself to keep up with him. A thrill in the challenge. I’d chase West anywhere.

“I told you I’m not fucking worth it.” “I’ll keep believing you are for the both of us.”

“I’m a goddamn ray of fucking sunshine,”

At that moment I knew: I still loved him. I had never stopped loving him. I’d just buried the feelings somewhere deep inside me where I never had to face them again.