to say two words.
“It’s okay,” I respond to Beatrice before turning to Liam. “It’s not called the hula in Tahiti. It’s called Ote’a, or Ori Tahiti. But to answer your question, yes. I used to do shows at the hotels.”
“It’s weird hearing you talk,” jokes Carson about my accent.
“That’s what you think is weird?” I burst out, making the two brother's laugh out loud.
Liam, Carson, and Mila got to the ranch a couple hours ago. The brothers welcomed me with tight embracing hugs, Mila, not so much. She stood by David during the introductions. Beatrice warned me she would be the most hesitant as she’s the one who took my death the hardest. She’s nine years older than me and felt partially to blame. She was ten. There is no way she was even remotely responsible.
My gaze jumps to hers every so often and the second our eyes meet, she looks down. I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister. Now, I wonder what’d it be like to have one that liked me.
“So…” Carson starts, and I glance over to him. “… what’s up with you and Ryker Dallas?”
Beatrice groans. “Can you two not ask such personal questions?”
“Mine wasn’t that personal,” Liam retorts.
“They’re not together anyway,” Mila chimes in. “He’s with Bree Kensington.”
Everyone turns to me. The knife Mila just stabbed in my heart, twists. Her expression switches to surprise.
Her hand covers her mouth. “You didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Aspen. I didn’t mean—”
“Enough,” Beatrice barks, glaring at her daughter.
My lips twitch as I try to smile. The room’s silence echoes in my ears as they wait for my reaction. Nothing like meeting your long-lost family and going through heartbreak at the same time. Watch out world, there’s an emotional disaster in the room.
“Why do you say that?” I choke out, needing a reason.
She hesitates, regret written on her face. She knots her hands in her lap. “They were pictured together at a gala the other day.”
“Mila, you know as well as I do that pictures in the media mean nothing.”
David inserts hope.
She winces and shrugs a shoulder. “They seemed pretty close. I mean, it’s going around town they’re together.”
“Can I see it?”
She pulls her phone from her rear pocket and searches. When she lifts her eyes up, her lips twist. “Are you sure you want to see it?” At least her intentions don’t seem malicious.
I slowly nod. It’s more like I need to see it.
She walks over and holds out her phone. I don’t need to look at the picture for long to see what she’s talking about. Bree’s tucked into his side and looking up at him with a longing glance, and he's smiling down at her.
I shoot up out of my chair. “Je reviens de suite !”
As I rush out of the room, I hear Carson ask, “What did she say?”
David answers, “She needs a minute.”
Smack in the middle of the pain, my lips quirk up finding out David speaks French.
My feet smack the ground as I walk outside. With nowhere to go, I let my feet guide me. Walking along a wooden fence, I follow a narrow dirt path sandwiched between dead grass.
The sun hangs high in the sky. Normally, I would enjoy its warmth, but my thoughts are burning a hole in my body on their own. I was foolish to think we would work. No wonder he hasn’t called. He’s been busy with his obligations.
My life is… in purgatory. I’m in between lives. There are so many unknowns. I don’t even have a place to call home. Why would he want to be a part of this?
A horse neighs ahead, his beautiful red mane shakes as he sticks his head over the fence. When he does it again, it brings a small grin to my face.
“Hey, big guy,” I say, approaching him with my hand out. He nudges it with his velvety nose and leans down, allowing me to run my fingers along his head. When he nuzzles me in the face, I giggle through the tears. “Wow, you’re a sweetheart.”
Thoughts flicker through my head about Ryker and our bareback conversation and where it led us. It was perfect.
A second in time of perfection doesn’t outweigh the other seconds of imperfection. That’s where I’m at right now.
A life of imperfection.
Uncertainty.
Tears roll down my cheek and the horse senses it, placing his head on my shoulder. “I swear, it’s not you.” I laugh, scratching his neck.
“Seems you got a fan.” I jump