Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch (Gold Valley #13)(85)

But she did know Jake.

And everything in her knew this wasn’t going to be anything other than a fight.

Because for all that she’d been broken, and hurting and protecting herself...she’d been slowly growing and changing, expanding the definition of what she could be as she cried out with pleasure in his arms. And Jake? Jake might just be as much of a rock face as he’d been at the beginning.

Just because she’d been on an emotional journey, while lying in his bed, didn’t mean he’d been walking the same path with her, not with his heart or his soul.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she said. “You’re going to have to explain yourself. Why exactly don’t you think it’s a good idea, Jake?”

“Because...” His face went blank and she knew he was about to lie. “I’m not built for this. It’s... It’s been good. I like you a lot. We’re good friends. It’s convenient for me to have sex right here on my ranch, but I’m not the marrying kind. And you’re going to go back to the rodeo, as you should.”

She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. About to offer something insane. Something that she realized she was now willing to sacrifice.

“I don’t need to go back.”

“What?”

“I don’t need to go back. I could stay here.” Her chest went tight, her throat constricting. This laying herself open like this...it was new to her. But it was right. It was what she needed. It was what they needed if they were going to not just survive but truly live. “I could work the ranch with you. Be a ranch hand and your wife. We could be together. And we could work on making this life. If that’s what you want, if that’s what would make things better for you, if that’s what would make them more, then I’m all about it. I’m all about the two of us making something out of this.”

“Callie, you can’t be serious. We literally got married so that you could get your trust fund, so that you could ride saddle bronc. It’s the most important thing in the world to you.”

The words washed over her like rain.

The most important thing in the world.

Being seen. Being the best at something. Not the second daughter who was a poor replacement for the first, but one who was singular. Unique. The first of her kind.

A girl who rode like a man and took no prisoners.

She didn’t know her anymore. That shield. That certainty.

Oh, sure, there was a safety to it. To being one thing. Honing herself into a sharpened blade that could only cut, rather than making herself into something who could cut, be cut. Hurt, be hurt. Want so many things deeply, desperately, that she might never have.

That was terrifying.

But she was on the edge of something beautiful. Like seeing a gilded ray beginning to crest a mountaintop. This time with him, that hope of winning against her family and getting a chance to ride in the rodeo was nothing more than a fraction of what could be.

That whisper of light wasn’t the entire story.

They were the whole sunrise.

One that could light up the whole world, and she couldn’t live on a sliver of gold anymore. Not when she knew just how much more they could have.

A whole life.

Not pieces of things. Friendship and trophies and applause. But all of it wrapped in love. Commitment, children, a home. Sickness, health and everything else.

“It was,” she whispered. “It was the most important thing in the world to me, Jake. And I thought it was what made me...me. I thought it was what was going to make my parents respect me. See me as my own person, a valuable person because of what I was doing, what I was achieving, and that if they did it would make me feel...fixed. But the problem is, I was wrong about myself. I’m not saying they were right—it’s just that I was immature. I probably still am. I’ve been growing and changing over these last couple of months, and it’s not a simple thing to admit or realize. But I went into all this like a rebellious teenager. Willing to defy anyone and everyone, willing to stamp my foot and say that no one understood me. That they all wanted these things for me that weren’t me. But... I didn’t know me. I didn’t know enough about life. Yes, I would still like to compete in the rodeo. But I can put it on hold. It’s not what defines me. And it’s not the most important thing to me. It isn’t what’s going to make or break my life and my happiness. Look at you, you’re done with the rodeo. You’re thirty-two, and you’re done.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s not going to be my life. Not my whole life.” Certainty flooded her. Freedom flooded her. “I have to want more things. I have to be more things. I was afraid of that. I think because I was afraid of being rejected... Really rejected. You know, it’s easy to pick a straw man and throw him up there for people to light on fire. Because that was a goal, a dream, even, but it wasn’t me. A rejection of me riding saddle bronc in the rodeo isn’t the same as being rejected. What I was afraid of was putting on a dress and not being the daughter my mother wanted. Trying to bake cookies with her and not being the person that she wanted standing beside her. What I was afraid of was not being loved as much as the sister that died, and as much as my brothers who are here. I was afraid that I didn’t matter. That I didn’t have a place and I had to make myself one with grit and exceptionalism. And I just... I’m not afraid of that anymore. I’m not afraid at all. It was never about loving the rodeo so much. It was about being afraid of losing what made me special.”