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Holding him close, I whisper against his cheek, “I think I’m done going slow. I’ve wanted you for long enough.”
if I’ve learned anything in the last month, it’s that Cole Harding is a good man. Broken, and sensitive, and so fucking good.
He looks like he’s worshipping at my altar in this darkened living room. His hands hover shakily over my ribs. “You are so fucking precious to me.”
Yeah, I’m perving hard, and I don’t even feel bad. The man looks like a well-hung Ken doll and he’s somehow magically into me. A scrappy ranch rat from a small cowboy town. Scrawny little Violet Eaton.
You don’t look at me like I’m tragic. You look at me like we’re inevitable.”
I’m a thirty-six-year-old man with nothing to show for my years on earth except a company that was handed down to me and a nice lingering dose of PTSD from a dead dad and a blown-off leg.
I’ve always wanted kids, but here I am without a single one of those things on the horizon.
I can’t help but chuckle as I recall the few times Trixie has told me this. You’re not a special snowflake. Stop acting like one.
“I just wanted to apologize for Patrick Cassel’s behavior. He’s no longer employed by me.” Okay, I want to kill him a little less now. Maybe just maim him. Break that nose again. “The person you owe an apology to is Miss Eaton.”
“Nice. I love it when you go all glacial like that. It’s fucking terrifying.” He drinks again with a big goofy grin on his face. “Violet is a braver woman than I am.” There it is. I shift my eyes over to Vaughn, who looks like a kid on Christmas morning, far too excited to see my reaction to that comment.
In the army, we always went back. Even if it was just for pieces.
“A photo finish,” Vaughn mutters as he shakes his head and jangles his keys in his pocket.
But man, getting called on my shit all the time is tiring. It’s like I’m living amongst a bunch of young Trixies.
He’s not searching or asking—he’s taking. And I’m giving.
Cole Harding is way more romantic than he lets on.
My rash decision in that moment has completely altered the course of my life, and for once I’m not beating myself up about it.
I’m definitely in love with Violet Eaton.
I press the button on the coffee machine and then slide some sandals on at the front door, heading out to feed Pippy. The other girl in my life.
“No toy to play with this time.” “I’m looking at him.” She sounds out of breath now.
And then I kiss her hard, hold her to me tight, and show her how badly I want to be an us. “We are definitely an us.”
That’s on you. I don’t believe for one second that you don’t want us. But you’re stuck, Cole. You can’t see past one moment of your life. One terrible moment. And you’re letting it define your entire existence.”
“I do. And you shine bright. Bright enough that a man like that might need you to light his way.”
You both need to toughen up and get back to smashing. You’re both in a better mood when you do. He’s less grumpy, and you’re less emo.”
I’m like an addict. One more hit, and I’ll be off the rails.
Pick something you can do, and fucking do it. I don’t need you down at track level. I don’t even need
you at every race. I don’t need you to love horses, but I need you to love me.”
“I know you see yourself as dark. But you aren’t. You’re swirling color, all different shades, a mosaic. You’re complicated and beautiful. And I’m not quitting on you, so you better not quit on me.”
“I want you. But you need to want you too. I can’t want you enough for the both of us.”
She’s like sunshine on my face. Warm and bright. I feel like I’ve been living in the shade, in a dark corner, and rather than dragging me kicking and screaming out of it—like so many people have tried to—she’s just shifted over a little bit to share her light.”
“But light is tricky. It slips through your fingers. It’s fleeting. It comes and goes. We never get to possess it; you can’t hold it in your hand. We just get to enjoy it. And if you can figure out a way to just let go and enjoy it, well, Cole, you’ll be one of the lucky ones.”
“And what if something happens to her?” “But what if nothing happens to her, and you spend the rest of your life missing out on all that light?”
“What’s holding you back? This?” She taps her finger to my temple. “Or this?” She taps my prosthetic.
My eyes sting with the simplicity of her statement. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. The most natural. I hate how badly I’ve failed Vaughn.
“Yeah, man. You can be whatever you want to be. Except her number one fan, because that’s me. You’ll have to fight me for it. But if you don’t fight me for it, some other guy will. Is the risk of her maybe, possibly, improbably, one day dying worth having to watch that? The family, the wedding, the babies?”
I love that growly look, and the voice that matches it. I love him.
“I knew you’d win,” the pony rider says from beside me. But his voice is . . . I look over, and my jaw goes slack. Because Cole Harding is on the sturdy quarter horse beside me. He’s holding Pippy’s rein. He’s on a horse.
“Both my girls in one race? No chance.” My girls. “I just . . .” My mouth moves, but no sound comes out. “It’s been two weeks!” “I know. Learning how to ride again with a prosthetic in only two weeks was almost a full-time job.”
He chuckles. “Billie.” Like her name alone explains everything. “Something about horses being therapy. I honestly think she might be onto something.”
“Yeah, Violet. I’m going to try. More than that, I’m going to just fucking do it. Because you? Us? I think we’re meant to be. You found me, and I found you. Over and over again. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.”
“I love you, Violet
Eaton. I loved you before I ever met you. And God knows, I love you even more now.”
“Suck it up, buttercup. If our Paralympic athletes can manage, then so can super soldiers.”
But ultimately it was fine. Lilah was born in our farmhouse in February and a month later, Violet was back up on a horse. Violet is happy. And that makes me happy.
“Hey, Butterface. I’m hungry.” A nickname that has stuck. “For dinner?” She smiles, and her eyes dance with mischief. “No.”
Our talk on the front porch that night about my leg turned into a talk about a lot more. It turned into a pile of beer bottles on the ground and a big old shame spiral and headache the next morning. But it had been worth it. Vaughn and I talked about our feelings—something I’m getting better at—we reminisced. I’ve never felt closer to my brother, and my regret over pushing him away has slowly ebbed.
Win or lose. She’s always smiling out there. Smiling right at me. Lighting me up. Because she’s my fucking sunshine.
“You got one angry motherfucker here, Eaton.” The cowboy on the back of a huge bull scoffs and shifts his hand around the rope before him. “The harder they buck, the happier I am.”
“Must be all that milk you drink. No broken bones for the world-famous Rhett Eaton.”
