CHAPTER 36

west

I tempted fate. Not that I fucking cared. Thunder Jack needed his hooves taken care of—desperately—but he and I weren’t at that point of comfort with one another. Not yet anyway.

After leaving him and Bailey in a water-soaked section of the corral, I separated him from her—much to her dismay. She’d grown fond of him in the few days I put them together. As I guided him back to his secluded section, she trailed after us. When I closed the gate, she hung out on the other side and just waited for him. I liked their relationship. It was good for her, and she was good for Thunder Jack. Something about her presence calmed him.

It worked in my favor as I balanced his front hoof between my thighs, thankful for the non-slip fabric of my chaps. I steadied myself and waited. I wasn’t about to put anything fucking sharp near either of us until I was sure he could handle the contact between us. One minute turned into two and quickly became three, four, five, and nothing. Thank fuck. He seemed comfortable enough with being there, which was good enough for me .

I was fast and efficient, working my way through removing the unnecessary horseshoe on him, trimming, and then balancing the hoof. It was still hard work. Clearly, no one had put in the fucking effort to maintain them. I would’ve been fucking grumpy too if I was him.

“I’ll get you feeling fucking better,” I grunted as I worked.

When I was satisfied with the way his hoof looked, I lowered his leg and rubbed down the muscle for both reassurance and comfort. Thunder Jack shifted and chuffed in reply. His demeanor was wildly calm compared to what I’d expected.

“Yeah, you ain’t so bad, are you?” I said softly while moving around his front, brushing a hand over his soft snout. He huffed and pushed into my palm. I took a moment to give him the affection he’d let me before moving on to the next hoof.

As I worked, I didn’t have to look up to know he was fucking there. Just standing and watching. Jackson did that a lot, wearing that stupid cowboy hat and an expression I couldn’t read. I hated it. It made me anxious. I wanted him to say whatever the fuck was on his mind and get it over with instead of staring at me.

This time, I had a feeling it had to do with his kitchen and the breakfast I’d made them. Admittedly, it was probably a stupid fucking thing to do. I should’ve just come back to the stables and cleaned shit here that he wouldn’t notice. But no, I made myself stay in his house. Stability and all that bullshit.

That didn’t stop the demons from trying to take over, and I had to do something to stem the chaos. Keeping my hands busy was always the best option, which left me cleaning his kitchen. But when that was done, I still had time on my hands, so I made him and Tess breakfast before cleaning up everything a second time.

It was stupid, but it was all I fucking had. And now I fucking regretted it because I had no idea how Jackson would react to the whole thing. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his pity or annoyance.

I chanced a quick glance at him. His expression was clear as day under that stupid cowboy hat.

Pity.

Yeah, I was going to avoid him as long as I fucking could.

I ran out of things to do to keep me busy and out of Jackson’s house. The fucking urge to hide in the stables was at an all-time high. I’d done everything in my power to avoid talking to Jackson, but I couldn’t do so forever. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Mostly, I just didn’t want to know what the hell he had to say about his kitchen.

Dragging my feet, I made my way up the steps to his house well after the sun had set. Every fucking light was on, ruining any hope I had of avoiding a conversation with him. I sucked it up as I let myself in. I had to. There was no avoiding whatever came next.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” Jackson exclaimed. Something loud hissed in the kitchen followed by a slam heavy enough to make me freeze, my heart surging in my chest. “Fucking hell!”

Taking slow steps, I went toward the kitchen. Jackson stood in front of the sink, waving a towel over a smoking pan as he ran water into it. The scowl on his face and the burning smell in the air made it real easy to figure out he’d fucked up cooking. Maybe cooking wasn’t his strong suit.

Tess sat at his feet—correction, on his feet. Her whole body pressed against his leg as if trying to comfort him.

“I hope you like frozen pizza,” he muttered when he saw me. “Because this shit ain’t edible.”

“I can take care of myself,” I said. “You don’t have to fucking feed me.”

“And you didn’t have to make my goddamn breakfast,” he shot back. I forced myself to stay still as the anger on his face sent my pulse skyrocketing.

“Fine,” I said. I didn’t have to eat anything he gave me. “I’m going to take a fucking shower.”

I didn’t wait for a response as I stalked down the hall toward the bathroom. The idea of a real, decent shower was a nice one. I hadn’t had one of those in years. Truck stop showers and cheap motels could only offer so much.

As I shut the door to the bathroom and flipped on the light, I froze. Yellow. Everything was fucking yellow. Walls, shower curtain, towels, stupid accessories on the countertop. Fuck, even the garbage can was yellow .

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. This was my fucking reality until I was out of this damn house. It wasn’t Jackson’s issue. It was mine. I had to learn to deal with it.

Stiff-legged, I made myself turn on the shower, turning it to full blast. I could do this. Quick in and out. I could do this.

But the room was insufferably hot long before the shower temperature spiked. My chest was unbearably tight and breathing was a fucking chore, every breath scraping painfully against my lungs. I grabbed the towel rack for support as the panic clawed its way violently through my chest. The room swayed, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Screaming echoed in my ears while everything around me tipped, my knees giving out. I sank to the ground.

There was no stopping it.