CHAPTER 27

west

T o his credit, Jackson shut the fuck up and took whatever the hell I gave him—which was a lot. I was beyond exhausted. Hurting, nauseous, stuck in my head. Working kept me from spiraling, but Jackson’s entire presence pushed me closer and closer to the ledge. I was ready to tip over it and spiral into a dangerous place.

The cowboy may have been a pain in my ass but he was fucking useful. Mostly. I knew he knew what the hell was going on with all his horses but was trying to keep me occupied. That piece of information pissed me off. I didn’t need his pity, but I couldn’t get him to leave me alone either.

Around four, he left. When that truck pulled away, I felt like I could breathe again. For all of five fucking minutes. And then the jitters kicked back up, making it awful all over again.

Fuck detoxing.

Fuck Jackson.

Fuck all of this.

I focused on the horses— had to focus on the horses. I gave up working and gave Thunder Jack whatever I had. It took everything in me to do just that. More treats and just existing around him while giving Bailey some well-needed attention. Well, in her mind, she always needed attention. There was a reason she followed me around like a puppy.

None of that changed when Jackson returned. I couldn’t pull my ass off the ground to save my life, even when that frown of his struck a chord with me. It set my already screaming nerves on fire. That familiar tightness in my chest began to return, and I sucked in a sharp breath to try to bury it.

He strode across the dusty paddock toward me with a wrapped-up sandwich in hand. Fucking hell. I didn’t need him taking care of me.

“Just turn the fuck around,” I mumbled to myself. Any shred of hope I had that he’d turn around and leave me the fuck alone was dashed as he crouched in front of me.

“Eat,” Jackson ordered and held out the sandwich. Always with the fucking orders. It grated against my nerves.

“I ain’t hungry,” I said. I couldn’t imagine putting anything in my stomach. It’d probably revolt.

“Your hands are shaking,” he pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. I pulled my hands into my lap, making fists to hide it—not that it would make a difference at this point.

“I’m fine.”

“Never said you weren’t, but everyone needs to eat.”

“Fuck off,” I growled. I glared at him, but the man was undeterred. He never wavered as he continued to hold out the stupid sandwich. “I don’t need your fucking charity, cowboy .”

I said that last word with as much malice as I could, trying to piss him off. It was a small dig at how shit used to be—a poke at how many times I’d made fun of him for that stupid hat he still wore. I wanted him angry at me. Fuck this nice shit. I couldn’t handle it.

His gaze narrowed as he considered me.

“Fine.” Jackson dropped the sandwich between my bent knees before standing. “I’ll dock your fucking pay. Now, eat.”

“I don’t need you taking care of me!” I called after him. I didn’t need him in all his cowboy valor storming into my life trying to fucking save me. There wasn’t a damn thing worth saving anyway.

“Never said you did,” Jackson commented over his shoulder. “Eat the fucking food before you get back to work. Don’t need you passing out. ”

“And I don’t need you telling me what the fuck to do.” Why wouldn’t he just fucking fight me? That shit I wanted. It was the only thing I could handle.

“Stay sober, West.”

“I fucking hate you,” I snapped.

“Good to know,” he replied. “Have a good night. Eat the fucking sandwich.”

I let out a frustrated sound as he disappeared. Stupid fucking man. And like the idiot I was, I opened the sandwich and picked at the bread. Maybe that would help settle my stomach.

Head between my knees, I sat outside next to my truck. It was well after midnight—maybe. I couldn’t tell. It was dark as shit and I was shaking so badly I couldn’t walk. My breath stuttered in my chest with every unsteady inhale. My fingers tightened in my hair while the dry heaving threatened to choke me. Each wild breath made it harder to breathe until I was practically sobbing as I leaned into the tire for support.

Withdrawal and panic collided violently inside me. I had no fucking control of my body. It did whatever the hell it wanted, and I was stuck for the ride.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I begged anyone who might listen to a lowlife like me to make it end. It didn’t matter how. I just wanted it to end.

I couldn’t take much more.