"Well, if it isn't my favorite power couple," Jake says, attempting a grin. "Come to make sure I didn't kick the bucket and mess up your fancy party plans?"
I laugh despite myself. "Obviously. Can't have you dying on us and stealing all the sympathy."
"Rude," Madison mutters, but there's a smile tugging at her lips.
"How are you feeling, man?" Wyatt settles into the chair on the other side of the bed.
"Like I got stepped on by a seventeen-hundred-pound horse with an attitude problem." Jake's grin is weak but genuine. "But hey, at least I looked good doing it."
"You looked like a rag doll," Madison says as she folds her arms.
"The only thing scarier than the broncs I ride is facing my mamma." Jake makes a pouty face at Madison. "Will you protect me?"
She huffs. “I’m on her side.”
"Savage," Wyatt laughs.
The banter feels almost normal. This is what Jake needs—not pity, but proof that some things survive even the worst wrecks.
"Has your mom made it yet?" I ask.
Madison nods her head. "She was here all night. I finally convinced her to go back to the hotel for a shower and some sleep. She'll be back this afternoon."
My eyes catch on an arrangement near the window—roses and lilies in an expensive vase. A stuffed horse sits beside it wearing a tiny western shirt, and there's a gift basket wrapped in cellophane filled with gourmet snacks and a card propped againstit.
"Who sent the flowers?" I ask.
Madison's expression sours. "Brittany. Because apparently Jake is 'Wyatt's best friend' and she wanted to 'send her love.'" The air quotes are vicious.
My stomach tightens. “Brittney was here?” My voice cracks.
“They came by delivery.” Madison makes a face. “I do not like that woman. She’s obsessed with Wyatt—it’s weird.”
"That's what happens when you're the best," Jake says with a weak grin.
"You guys have seen Dateline, right?" Madison warns. "You can't just ignore this stuff. Women like that don't stop until something makes them stop."
Wyatt glances at me. "Madison," he says as a warning.
"I'm serious." She looks between them. "This isn't normal fan behavior. Normal fans don't go behind the chutes, don't send gifts to someone’s best friend, don't—"
"I won't let anything happen," Wyatt says firmly. His hand finds mine and tightens. "We're handling it."
But are we? The question sits heavy in my chest, mixing with the image of those flowers—, a reminder that Brittany knows where we are, what we're doing, who matters to us. She's already proven that she doesn't respect boundaries.
"You okay?" Wyatt's voice pulls me back.
"Yeah." I force a smile. "Just tired."
He doesn't look convinced, but he lets it go, turning back to Jake with some story about the drive up here.
I watch him as he talks—the easy confidence, the way he makes Jake laugh despite the pain—and something shifts in my chest.
I'm falling for him.
I’ve worked so hard to keep my heart safe and he’s cuddled up next to it. It’s okay. I'm starting to understand something I didn't before: caring for someone, maybe even loving them, and trusting them are two different things. I can love without trusting.
Maybe that's enough for now. Maybe love grows first, and trust follows if you're patient. If you're brave.