Ten

Sally watched in horror as the conversation unfolded between Rider and Adam. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d changed her mind about waiting at the bike and was heading inside so she could talk to her girls, find out how the rest of the race went. When she caught the name of Rider’s ex on the wind, her fox went rabid.

Now she stood, several feet away, devastated and unable to move as Rider walked into Red Cap to find Evie.

She blinked over and over as the tears leaked from her eyes. Through their bond, she could feel pain, sadness. Shame. Betrayal. And other things she couldn’t name, all tangled up inside so she couldn’t tell what was hers and what was his.

They were too new, their bond too fresh. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to go to her. Never.

He was Sally’s.

Mine, her fox insisted. My Rider.

Sally let out a sob, doubling over at the waist to keep from losing her stomach. It got Adam’s attention, his head twisting around so fast it might’ve been funny if her world wasn’t tumbling out of control.

Adam frowned, walking over to her. She wanted to back up. She wanted to run past him into the bar and claim her man in front of everyone. Challenge Evie for him, like the males did. Call a spur.

Fight to the death? Is that what she wanted?

No. Death on her hands was everything she had run from. She had given everything to keep her hands clean. Given until she thought she had nothing left to offer.

Rider showed you there was so much more.

There was a time and place for killing, but to win a man?

She couldn’t. He had to choose her, like she’d chosen him. Otherwise it was worth less than her fucking virtue was.

Rider changed that, her vixen reminded, and another sob burst from Sally’s middle. Rider knows you are worthy.

“Sally?” Adam’s gruff voice brought her attention back to him. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

She nodded, trying to straighten.

“From the crash earlier? You need the hospital? Let me call—”

“No, no… Rider. I need Rider.” If she could talk to him. See in his eyes what he wanted… or didn’t want. Then she could… do what?

Realization seeped into Adam’s gaze and he stiffened. “He’s inside.”

“I-I know. I—”

“He’s talking to his girl.”

Her fox snarled at that.

“I’m his girl,” she snapped.

Adam pursed his lips. “Listen, I don’t know what you and your friends are up to, but I don’t like it. Something about you… ain’t right. You’re not good for him. Rider’s not himself around you. Not careful like he should be.”

“I make him happy. Make him feel good again. And he makes me that way too.”

Adam shook his head dismissively.

“He only ever fell for one lady, and she’s in there with him now, fixing things. After all this time, he’s going to get back what he lost. And you can’t do anything about it. You need someone to make you feel good, Sally? Then keep doing what you’re doing. Keep making your rounds through Cedar Valley. Plenty of guys around here to make you feel good.”

She shook her head, the knot in her throat making it so hard to talk.

“Not… I didn’t mean like that… I…”

Adam smirked. “Shit, girl. I know what you are. You play too much.”

He might as well have just called her a slut.

Sally glared at him.

He. Had. No. Idea.

But she was Rider’s anyway.

Arm holding her middle, she straightened enough to see Adam eye to eye, and pushed her chin out.

“Rider makes me feel important. Like I matter. Like I… I… have value. He makes me feel worthy of happiness.” She watched Adam’s expression change with her words. Haughty to confused. “Do you know how much that means to someone like me? Do you have a clue, you judgmental ass.”

“You aren’t good for him,” he repeated. But he sounded less sure this time.

And so was she. Maybe she wasn’t good for Rider. Maybe what he needed had been haunting him all this time, and was in the bar right now saying her sorries. Evie had thrown his love away. But Sally drank it up with a straw and returned it a hundredfold.

It had to be enough.

“I love him!” It was her last line of defense against Adam’s claim, and she clung to it for dear life. It was the only thing convincing her he was wrong. “Can you say the same thing about her? About anyone else? I… I love him.”

Yeah, maybe she wasn’t good enough for Rider after all she’d done. All the seduction, all the running from her past, all the timidity about a future. But her animal—and her heart—would always be faithful to him. And she refused to feel ashamed for valuing life. For using her body to keep people alive.

Adam frowned hard, taking her words and looking like he was a goddamn fortress. They weren’t making it past his steel wall of judgement. Hard headed ass. Didn’t he see it, how she cared for Rider?

Barb burst through the door just then, furious eyes scanning the area until they landed on Sally. If Barb was mad, then whatever was happening inside was exactly as bad as she suspected.

“Sally…” She rushed forward, winding her arm around Sally’s waist. “Breathe,” she murmured. “It’s going to be okay.”

But nothing felt okay. It felt like someone had taken a permanent marker and scribbled all over her favorite piece of artwork.

Barb’s glare turned on Adam. “You have something to do with this? You bring that woman here for him, knowing he had a thing for Sally?”

He didn’t answer, pressing his lips tight.

“You’d hurt your own like this?” she asked, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it. “I thought you were good.”

“I’m not hurting anybody.” Adam stared back at the bar. “I’m keeping my friend from making a mistake. Giving him the second chance he’s always wanted.”

Barb shook her head. Sally breathed deep through the tangle of emotions in her gut.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Barb said low. “Sally, get inside. Not safe out here. With him.”

Adam snapped his head back, surprised at Barb’s accusation.

But Barb was right. The things he said, the way he made her animal hurt… it was dangerous. Animals attacked when they were injured. She didn’t want her vixen to kill Rider’s best friend.

Sally moved to go around Adam, not giving a damn that she’d be facing her mate tear-stained and snotty.

“No,” he argued. “Leave him alone, Sally. Let him be happy. He doesn’t want you like that, long term. Who would?”

His brutal words stopped her dead. They were fucking barbed wire around her fragile heart. A heart that Rider had taken such care to heal. Now it was snagged in ugly words and opinions again.

Her fox couldn’t breathe. There was nowhere to go, and the animal wanted out. Needed to run to ease the pain. Hurting so bad twice in one night… it was too much.

Shift. Change. Let me out.

A snap of power in the air brought Sally’s attention back to Barb.

“You,” she snarled, pointing at Adam. “You say another word to her and I’ll rip your eyes out…” She cocked her head to the side, listening to something. “Yeah. That’s a 10-4. I’ll be ripping your goddamn eyes out with or without the help of my fox. Ain’t the first time I told her to take a long walk off an itty bitty bridge. And this time, it will be hella worth it.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot to his forehead before he mouthed, fox?

But Sally didn’t have time to think about what Barb had revealed, because she was about to show it up with a reveal of her own.

Her animal clawed at her chest. Sally squeezed her eyes closed, trying to calm her. But she was hung up on something Adam said…

Let him be happy.

As soon as he’d said it, a burst of pure joy hit her mating bond hard. So hard, she’d almost smiled from it even though it wasn’t hers.

It was Rider’s.

Happy.

She needed Rider to be happy. Instinct demanded it. And hours ago—minutes ago—she thought she knew exactly how to do that. But now…

He was happy. She could sense it so clear, sparkling through their bond in high-def.

And he was feeling it right now, inside the bar. With Evie.

A violent sob shook Sally.

Evie made him happy.

Adam was right.

Sally needed Rider to be happy… and Rider needed Evie.

She let out a cry, not caring about any damn thing except getting the hell out of there.

“Your eyes,” she heard Adam murmur through tunnel ears.

She let go of her body, giving it over to her vixen to take care of. The pain didn’t ease in her fox form, but the animal knew how to help.

Barb stared down at her, furious and sad and shocked. In the background, Adam sputtered, incomprehensible words falling from his mouth.

“Go, Sally-girl,” Barb said. “I’ll take care of things. Get out of here.”

Go. Yes.

She ran, darting around the cars and trucks until she found the cover of trees behind the lot.

She’d go far away so Rider could live his life. She’d heal. And someday be okay again.

It was done.

Her fairytale had come and gone.

Happily ever… never.