Rider’s Block

37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter thirty-seven

"I Told You So," Keith Urban

E ric has me wrapped up in those beautiful, fully intact and uninjured arms before I even squeak out a hello. He’s squeezing me so tight I can’t get a full breath in, but I don’t care.

He’s here.

He’s here, and he’s not hurt, and he’s here.

Chester starts weaving in and out of our legs, but Eric still isn’t ready to let go. He just stands there, holding me in the doorway as my ineffective guard cat makes continuous laps around us. Eric finally notices him after Chester lets out a few impatient meows for being ignored for so long. He doesn’t let me go, but he leans back just enough to look down and say, “Hey, little buddy, I promise I’ll give you scritches here in a minute. I just need to hold your mom for a while, okay?”

That seems to satisfy Chester enough to move over and sit on the couch. Eric grips me tight again for a few seconds before walking us into the room, shutting the front door behind him. “I’m sorry to show up unexpected so late, Red. I just…I just needed to see you.”

“I thought you were…I thought you needed space,” I admit as he continues to squish me close to him.

“That’s the last thing I wanted, baby. They cleared me and I got out of there so fast with one thing on my mind. I needed to be right here. Thanking you.”

“Thanking me? What for?” He looks down at me before tapping his head, almost absentmindedly. “So I…I didn’t distract you? You don’t blame me?”

“Are you kidding me? Why the hell would you think that?”

“I thought I messed up something with the sticker, I don’t know. Dean gets in a fit if someone so much as looks at his lucky rope, I thought maybe I distracted you or—”

“Red, I’m going to stop you there right now. I’m always thinking about you. Sticker or no, you’re the last thing I think about when I start every ride and the first thing I think about when it’s done. But that helmet? That’s what saved me tonight. You saved me tonight. I never would have worn one if it wasn’t for you, and the doctors made it very clear it was the only reason I walked out of there.”

“I don’t…you’re not mad?”

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to be mad at you.”

“But you didn’t answer your phone, I thought for sure you—”

“I got on the first flight out of there. Dad took care of my stuff for me so I could come see you. I haven’t checked it since, I think it’s still in airplane mode, actually.”

“You came here?” The answer is obvious. I’m sitting here, holding him. I’m just needy and I’m not afraid of admitting it.

“I came to you.” He squeezes me a little tighter, and I can feel him exhale. “I’ve never really worried about getting hurt again until you came around. This feeling, right now? Terrifies me. Knowing I could do something stupid and not come home to you? I’m not sure I can do it anymore, Red.”

The weight of what he’s saying hangs heavy, and as flattered as I am, I can’t get in the way of another person’s goals. “I like you, Eric. I like you a lot. I might even more than sort of like you and because of that, I need you to get back in the saddle.” I take a deep breath, before pulling back to look him in the eye. “You’re here. You’re healthy, and you’re the best. Don’t make me the reason you quit. Make me the reason you don’t stop. Once you win, we can revisit the conversation, but don’t make me another regret. I won’t be able to live with myself. I can’t be another what-if.”

I can see the thoughts rampage through his head one by one. Slowly, the confidence comes back to his shoulders. It’s a slow evolution, but I see the resolve settling in, followed by a newer facial expression that’s becoming familiar to me. With a growing smile, he kisses me on the cheek and says, “So you maybe more than like me, huh? How much more are we talking?”

He lets me pull away from his grip easily so I can smack his chest and roll my eyes. “Of everything I said, that’s what you want to focus on?”

“That was the most important part.”

“Eric, I’m being serious.”

“I am too, I want to know if that more than like is finally catching up to my more than like and I feel like a fifth grader tiptoeing around the word. But I’ll wait for it. You’ve always been worth the wait, Red. But when you finally decide to rock my world with it, we need to talk.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, we do. In the meantime, you’ve got three days to convince me California is worth it.”

Challenge accepted.

***

It only took until noon of the first day for Eric to drop his carefully placed “this place sucks” facial expression and replace it with something that genuinely looks like appreciation and understanding for why this place has such a hold on me.

Chester, the little traitor, completely abandoned my bed to sleep at his feet on the couch. I told him we’ve shared tighter quarters, and we can handle being adults about sharing a bed, but he simply said it was too tempting and snuggled with my cat instead. I’m jealous on all accounts.

I made Eric my green smoothie, and the look on his face when he discovered it tasted like vanilla instead of spinach was priceless. And when I told him how much protein it had? Well, I think I blew his mind a little. We spent the morning going over every square inch of my little bungalow. He navigated around my book piles without complaint, but I think his favorite spot is the patio. I get it, it’s one of mine as well. And while he’s used to much colder temperatures this time of year, the mildness of California really sings when you can spend time outside without three layers.

We walk hand in hand down my favorite shopping strip, and I’m thankful I already planned out our activities for when he was supposed to come see me in a few weeks. I show him the first bookstore one of my books was ever in, and he goes to buy a hat just so that he can support them for supporting me.

I really could love this man. I kind of sort of do, but we haven’t been together that long, so it feels a little too soon, right? I mean he sort of implied he loved me, but I’ve been intentionally trying to do everything I can to avoid thinking through last night’s conversation.

He came to me.

When I thought I’d lost him, when I thought he’d think of me as the reason he didn’t succeed…he came to me for comfort . It takes a lot to swing so far on a pendulum you risk tipping over, but the more time I spend with Eric, the more I feel…intentional. Every time he chooses me it stitches together a hole in my heart I thought I fixed a long time ago, but I guess it’s still there. Everyone says time heals wounds, and I think they’re right. But I think it also takes a little more than time to be able to put a little weight on a wound. The shit with my dad isn’t novel. I know I’m not alone, and because of that I almost didn’t allow myself to actually feel the ramifications and aftershock of what he did. There are so many people across the world who have a worse hand dealt to them. I’m healthy. I know what love through family means with my mom and brother, and I have a fulfillment in life that’s more than I could have dreamed of. So I didn’t feel like I was allowed to feel a little broken. But I still am.

But that pendulum is starting to swing, and it scares the shit out of me.

By the time we get to walking along the beach, I see him take his first deep breath of the day. As he stares out into the waves that often put me in such a trance, they relieve whatever writer’s block I’m facing, I see a shift in his posture. He stands a little taller, his shoulders square up, the grip on my hand becomes a little tighter.

My strong cowboy is coming back.

We stand together, hand in hand, looking at the endless blue of the Pacific Ocean, and I feel it, too. The peace of his company. A quiet acknowledgment of the steadiness of our relationship.

“Alright, Red. You win,” he says after a few minutes of us enjoying the sun’s heat. “I’ll get back in the saddle, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Whether you’re ready to say those eight letters or not, when I win, we can have that conversation.”

“I think you have a very specific conversation in mind, and I’m not sure I’m following.”

“You’re right, but you’re wrong. I think you know what conversation I want to have, and I think you’re scared of it. I get why, that’s why I want you to know that if I win you don’t have anything to be scared about anymore. That’s why I want to win. Once that barrier’s gone, so is your fear. I’ll win for you just to remove that fear. But I want to know if that’s your only hesitation.”

How this man knows me more than myself gives me goosebumps. He’s dead on. Dammit.

“That’s…yeah, that’s, um…that’s it.” I start to feel a little self-conscious. “Eric, I know it’s dumb, I just can’t go through that—”

“It’s not dumb, babe. After the shit you’ve been through, there’s nothing dumb about it. It’s actually kind of nice after watching the hell Dean had to go through to make up for his dumb decisions. At least I’m not fighting myself. I’m fighting your dad. I’ll take that every damn day, alright? You have nothing to worry about. I’ll do it. I’ll do it a million times over if I have to.”

“Dean did kind of have an uphill battle to fight, didn’t he?”

“But he’s doing it.”

“He is. Penny’s a goner.”

“We’re made of tough stock. We can handle the effort.”

“So I’ve learned.” We’ve started walking back toward my parked car. I had an immense amount of satisfaction proving to Eric that I do, in fact, drive a lifted Land Cruiser, and I may or may not have gone out of my way to prove that I can handle said Land Cruiser in multiple terrain examples. “So, you ready to try the best sandwich of your life?”

We make our way over to my sandwich shop and I’m a little nervous to see what he thinks. It’s silly, but it’s a vulnerable experience to share your favorite anything with someone. I don’t know why showing Eric my favorite sandwich felt like putting my heart out dangling on a wire, but when he took his first bite and moaned like it was the greatest experience of his life I nearly fainted from relief. Was he exaggerating? Absolutely. But that little bit of effort was an arrow straight to my heart.

Ambiance helps anything, and since he showed me his favorite spot in the world with a picnic, I thought I’d do the same. My spot is a little less specific. I have a favorite little alcove on the beach, but it’s big and not so crowded and is just a small walk away from a parking lot, so it’s perfect for me. We’ve barely been sitting for fifteen minutes, and the sandwiches are already gone. He leaves tomorrow to go back to Colorado, but I’ve gotten a little too used to him being here with me even though it’s only been three days.

“So, I was thinking while we’re here we need to talk about the holidays comin’ up and what we’re going to do. Obviously, you heard all about what we do at the ranch, but what about your family? What are the non-negotiables for you?”

I think about it for a second before it dawns on me. “Wait, is Thanksgiving really only two weeks away?”

“Yeah, and Mom’s been hounding me to know if you’re coming on the actual day, but I wanted to talk to you about what you want before I let her loose on you. She told me she’s going to bypass me and call you no less than six times.”

“I love your mother.”

“Good. Now, what about your family?”

“Well, Thanksgiving has always kind of been low-key at our house. I’ll call Mom and see what they’re planning, but I imagine they’ll celebrate at my brother’s house again this year. Did I tell you they finally admitted they’re pregnant again?”

“No shit! That’s great, how far are they?”

“Right in line with Christine and Trevor, actually. Only about a month later.”

“He’s become unbearable lately,” Eric gruffs out in a way that’s equal parts endeared and equal parts irritated. “We’ve only had the little snow hit, not even the big stuff yet, and it’s like she’s asking to go bungee jumping instead of the grocery store. When the baby’s actually here I’m worried about his blood pressure.”

“Have you guys had your big snow day yet? With the world’s most interesting food combo?”

“Nope, nothing’s stuck well enough, yet. Melts too soon to really appreciate the cinnamon roll by the fire. Not as nice when you’re looking out at sludge.”

“Would you…um, would you want to come to Idaho with me if they’re wanting to do something this year?” I ask, suddenly feeling a little timid.

“Red, I said ‘we,’ didn’t I?” He’s shifting from the relaxed position he’s been in while we’ve watched the sun dip down below the horizon, but in his shift in posture I can tell I riled him up. “The only reason I’m flying back tomorrow is that I’ve got to work on that palomino. And the only reason you’re not flying back with me is because we haven’t had that conversation yet and I’m trying to let you get there. But there’s no way I’m electively spending a holiday away from you. Understand?”

The smile that hits my face gives away all of my feelings on the matter. His confidence in this situation gives me confidence. “Alright, so I’ll call tomorrow, and we can plan from there. Sound good?”

“Much better.” He grabs my hand, rubbing his thumb along my knuckles. “Now this should go without saying but I don’t mind reminding you, a non-negotiable for me is knowing you’re there watching me in Vegas at the finals. I know I might not get there—”

“Didn’t you already qualify?”

“Technically. But I don’t want to jinx anything—”

“Eric, you can’t jinx what’s already happened—”

“Fine. I’m going, you’re going, I emailed your ticket this time since you made me feel like a grandpa for mailing it—”

“Yeah, well you also gave me your phone number with a business card, so it tracked.”

His flat stare has me breaking out into a fit of giggles I’m not proud of, and after staring at me for two minutes in a way that only eggs me on, his bellowing laugh finally joins my own.

After we finally settle, he pulls me up to sit against him and we polish off the rest of the wine I brought to pair with my favorite meal in SoCal. It’s a simple meal, but shared with Eric on the beach I get that feeling again where I know I’m in the right place living the best version of myself…and it’s starting to feel more like the person is responsible for it more than the location.