34. Brandy

34

Brandy

I hung up the bridle Callan’s student had used on Butterscotch for their lesson in the indoor arena and moved to the opposite wall to reorganize the halters. We were all pretty good at keeping it neat, but it didn’t prevent the ropes from getting caught up in one another from time to time.

Callan had to leave right after his lesson to go to a doctor’s appointment with Sage, so I offered to untack Butterscotch and put everything away. I already finished what I needed to do for the day with desensitizing some of the rescue horses, so at this point, I was looking for things to do to pass the time. I didn’t want to go home and sit in my feelings about my mother or Reed, and Lettie was still home sick. This ranch was always my safe space growing up, and it continued to be to this day.

I was thankful I had the Bronsons to go to when things were tough. Without them, I didn’t know how I would’ve gotten through a majority of my childhood—seeing my father put his hands on my mother and having such a poor example of what love should really look like. Charlotte and Travis did more than just take me in as one of their own. They taught me things my parents never thought to—that love didn’t have to lead with arguments and getting physical. It could be nice. Enjoyable, even.

But for the longest time, I didn’t think I’d ever feel remotely close to that. I kept myself guarded from heavy emotions because I knew that if I let my walls down, I was opening myself up to the possibility of getting broken. Hurt. And I’d seen my mom hurt more times than I could count. Heard her sobs in the shower, or saw her flinch at sudden movements. It wasn’t the sort of life I ever wanted to live, so I didn’t allow myself to grow feelings for people. Sure, I dated, but it never got past the second or third date.

I used to excuse it to the fact that I just didn’t like them, but as of lately, I figured out it wasn’t that at all. They just weren’t who I actually wanted. And the one person I did want was the person I’d shut out for years.

But Reed didn’t get violent that night at me. He got violent for me. Because he wanted to keep me safe, and make the man who disrespected me pay for how he treated me. He likely would’ve killed him if given the chance. Hell, he was three punches away from doing so. But he also stopped because of me. Led me outside because he couldn’t bear to see me sitting there, defeated and humiliated. Drove me home because he cared about me.

It took me so long to see that there were different types of violence in people, and not everyone was the same. The rage in my father wasn’t the same rage I saw in Reed that night. It’d never be, and I hated that I isolated Reed because my mind couldn’t comprehend any of it. Why would a man hit the woman he loved? Why was I dealt the hand of a shitty father who should’ve been there for me that night, but instead, it was Reed?

And that’s when everything shifted. When I realized Reed only bickered with me to see me be less of a shell of a person. How he knew what clouded my mind every day, so he found ways to distract me. All this time, I was so blind to what was really happening between the two of us, all because of one fucked up night.

I was done with all of that ruling my life.

I left the tack room with the intention of grabbing my phone from where I’d set it on the wall of the indoor arena, but I stopped in the middle of the aisle when I heard a truck engine rumbling in the distance. Changing my direction to the door of the barn, I paused inside the threshold, out of the rain, as Reed turned off his truck and got out. He hung his head as he walked through the downpour in my direction, his black cowboy hat shielding his face from view.

My body hummed with the anticipation of seeing him, not sure if it was okay for me to hug or kiss him in greeting. All hope of either vanished as he walked right past me, wet boot prints following in his wake on the concrete.

“Reed,” I said, hurrying after him.

“Not now, Brandy,” he grumbled, not bothering to turn around or lift his head.

I grabbed his arm, tugging him back so he’d stop. “What’s wrong?”

But the answer was all too clear as he spun to face me, revealing the split on his lip. My eyes widened at the sight of it. “What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing,” he muttered as I dropped his arm.

My hand moved on its own, dabbing at the cut with the tip of my finger. It was no longer bleeding, but it wasn’t scabbed over yet. “This isn’t nothing.”

He turned his head away, his eyes downcast on the ground. “I have shit to do.”

“Oh, no. You don’t get to tell me to open up to you and then you show up here with a cut lip and not tell me what happened. Who the fuck hit you?”

He shook his head, his lips rolling together. “Let it go.”

My mouth opened and closed, at a loss for words. Was he serious right now?

He didn’t wait as he turned, making it barely two steps before I blurted out, “I love you.”

He froze, his back to me as I watched his shoulders stiffen, then relax under his black Carhartt jacket.

My heart raced like a thousand horses were galloping across the plains of my feelings, laid bare and ready to be trampled down by the hooves of his rejection. We’d shared moments, but what did any of that even mean? He wanted to be more than just my…enemy, and yet, he didn’t want to open up to me. I was beyond confused, but I knew one thing for certain. Whether he rejected me over it or decided to continue whatever this was, I’d be ready.

Slowly, he pivoted to face me, the sound of the storm drowning out as my blood pumped through my veins at an alarming rate.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice so quiet that I barely heard him. The question fell flat, and I couldn’t tell if he was mad or happy or straight irritated with me for reasons I didn’t know.

I blinked, trying to remember if I’d said what I thought I did out loud, or something crazy that was making him stare at me in disbelief.

“I love you.” I swallowed, forcing a breath of air into my lungs. “I think. I don’t know. I don’t know how to do any of this, but I love you, and I don’t want you to shut me out. Not now.” Tears welled in my eyes, my throat suddenly feeling like a brick was dropped into it. “Please don’t shut me out.”

A tear rolled down my cheek, then another, as all I wanted to do was sink in on myself with the weight of the emotions threatening to crush me into pieces. I had blocked them all out, never wanting them to be seen or heard, or hell, half the time, even felt. But here I was, laying out this four-letter word to a man I thought I hated but really, I was just confused how to feel about him because I wasn’t taught how to love. Right now, in this moment, though, I knew love wasn’t something that even could be taught. It could be displayed, versions of it to be seen by others—but none of that prepared anyone for how they’d love when the time came.

And I thought all this time I wasn’t capable of it because of the things I’d seen. It was never that. I just wasn’t ready for what we could be, and now, I think I was. Ready to let him in, ready to love him and let him consume my every waking thought.

I just hoped he was ready, too.

Reed stood there staring at me, the look on his face so heavily guarded that I had no idea what he was thinking. Before I could let myself feel the humiliation of him not loving me back, he stormed forward, not stopping until his hands were on my cheeks, pulling my face up to his and crashing his lips to mine. My hands fisted in his shirt, parting his jacket to feel his warm chest and tug him closer.

My hands trailed over his chest, to his shoulders, his neck, down his arms until I was gripping his wrists as they held my face firm. I couldn’t stop touching him. Our mouths spoke silent promises to each other with each caress, each pass of his tongue over mine.

Eventually, the kiss slowed, and he pressed his forehead to mine as he swiped my remaining tears away with his thumbs.

He pulled his head back to look down at me, brushing a stray strand of hair away that was stuck to my face. “You love me, huh?”

I nodded.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing his wrist to try to get him to release his hold on me as I attempted to spin away. He held firm, not letting me get anywhere.

“I love you, too, Brandy.”

I froze, staring up at him. Just in his eyes, I could tell he was being honest. I didn’t think he’d lie about something like that, but my mind had a hard time wrapping around the idea of this being…good. For so long, I fought against him, and now that I didn’t have to keep my guard up around him, I could let myself fall into him knowing he’d catch me.

All along, I knew that he would. I was just the one who needed to take the jump in the first place.

With no words to embody how I felt in this moment, I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my head in his chest.

Reed Bronson loved me, and I loved him back.

I felt safe.

“Are you going to tell me what happened now?” I said into his shirt.

He ran his hands up and down my sides slowly. “We can’t enjoy the moment for a little bit longer?” he asked, clearly trying to dodge the question.

I pulled away, crossing my arms over my chest as I looked up at him.

“I take that as a no,” he said on a sigh. He reached up to take his cowboy hat off, running his hand through his hair before plopping it back on. “Beckham punched me.”

My eyes went wide, my arms dropping to my sides. “Why would he do that?”

“I brought up something I shouldn’t have,” he admitted, sounding a bit ashamed.

“What was it?”

He gave me a sad puppy kind of look, like he didn’t want to be forced to tell me what he did.

I popped a hip, waiting.

With another sigh, he leaned a shoulder against the wall beside us. “You’re already putting me through the wringer. Maybe I should take it back—”

My mouth popped open on a gasp.

“I’m kidding!” He reached forward, pulling me to him so his back was to the wall now, his arms around my shoulders as he held me to his chest.

“You said you love me and you made a joke? I don’t know if I like this new Reed,” I teased.

“Well, get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.”

The statement made the corners of my mouth curl up as warmth coiled through me.

“I brought up Parker,” Reed went on, and I tried to hide my reaction as I cringed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Not my brightest moment, I’ll admit. But he’s just been so…not himself lately, and I can’t stand seeing him like this.”

“You think it has something to do with her?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think I should just let it go. Wait until he comes around and wants to talk rather than trying to force it out of him.”

“If he’s anything like me, you know that’s probably the best way to go about it,” I told him.

“I just hate seeing my mom worry, but I’m not good at this, Brandy.”

I pushed off his chest to look at him. “Good at what?”

“Feelings, I guess. Don’t really talk about my own, so I don’t know why I expect my brother to either. I guess we got that from our father.”

Travis wasn’t much of a talker to begin with, and when he did, it wasn’t typically about his feelings. Callan took after their mom in that department, but the others were working on it.

“He’ll be okay.” I reached up, cupping his cheek. “Beckham didn’t get through years of riding broncs to let some emotions bury him. We’ll be here when he’s ready.” My thumb brushed over his injured lip. “But in the meantime, probably don’t bring up sensitive subjects, yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

With a smile, I dropped my hand to his chest. “Say it again.”

He gripped my hips. “What?”

I frowned. “You know what.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, tossing his head back and forth. “You’ll have to remind me. My memory’s not too good after that hit.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “He hit your mouth, not your temple, smart-ass.”

Reed grinned, aiming all his happiness straight down at me. “I love you. Even if sometimes, you’re a little mean.”

I faked a gasp, pressing a hand to my chest. “Me? Mean? No way.”

He shook his head as he chuckled before leaning toward me and pressing his lips to mine.

Love with Reed felt pretty good.