Days passed. Then weeks. I didn't speak to Liam. He didn't speak to me. We existed in the same space, but we may as well have been on different planets. And I preferred it that way.
The moment he walked away that night, leaving me standing in the dark with his words clinging to my skin like a burn, I made a choice.
Liam was my enemy now.
Not someone to taunt or push for the sake of a reaction. Not someone to play with just because I could. No-this was different. This was war. So, I did what any strategist would do.
I adjusted.
For the next few days, I ignored Liam completely. No glances. No taunts. No games. If he was in the room, I looked past him. If he spoke, I pretended I didn't hear. He wanted to act like I didn't exist? Fine. Two could play that game. But staying still wasn't an option.
I needed a distraction, something to channel the energy buzzing beneath my skin. Something that didn't involve him.
So, I threw myself into work. I woke up before sunrise and spent the mornings helping with the horses. Grooming, feeding, exercising. The rhythm of it was steady, predictable. It gave my hands something to do, my mind something to focus on. But more than that-it felt natural.
The first time I climbed into the saddle, the way my body moved with the horse, the way I gripped the reins, adjusting effortlessly to its pace... It was too easy. Too familiar. Muscle memory.
Had I done this before?
The thought gnawed at the edge of my mind, but I pushed it away. I wasn't going to waste time questioning things I couldn't remember.
By midday, I shifted to working with Evans, fixing things around the ranch-fences, machinery, anything that needed an extra set of hands. My body ached by the time the sun started to dip below the horizon, but the exhaustion was welcome. It meant I wasn't thinking.
Not about him.
Not about the way my body still burned from his words.
Not about the past that felt like it was just out of reach.
It wasn't until later, when I walked into town for some supplies, that my patience was tested. I was at the small general store, grabbing a few things, when a voice rang out behind me.
"Didn't expect to see you around here so soon."
I turned, barely suppressing a sigh. It was Jason. Some guy I'd seen lingering around the ranch a few times. Tall, broad, blond, someone who probably thought he had a chance with me.
I wasn't in the mood.
"Just picking up a few things," I said, reaching for a box of nails. Jason leaned against the counter, smirking. "You know, if you ever get bored out there, I could show you a real good time."
barely reacted. "Is that so?"
He grinned, taking my lack of rejection as interest. "Yeah. I bet a girl like you likes a little fun, huh?"
A girl like me.
I should've just walked away. But something about the way he said it, the way his eyes flicked over me like I was already his, made my blood heat in a way I didn't like. I turned fully, meeting his gaze head-on.
"And what exactly do you think a girl like me wants?" Jason chuckled, cocky and overconfident. "Someone who can handle you."
I smiled, slow and sharp. "You wouldn't last five minutes." His grin faltered just slightly. "Is that a challenge?"
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us until there was barely an inch of space. His breath hitched, and I tilted my head, letting my voice drop just enough to
send a shiver down his spine.
"No," I whispered. "It's a fact."
Then, just as easily, I stepped back, grabbed what I needed, and walked away without a second glance. The moment I stepped outside, I exhaled slowly. I should've just ignored him. I could've ignored him. But the second he opened his mouth, something in me itched to put him in his place.
Like it wasn't the first time.
Like I'd done it a thousand times before.
I clenched my fists. It wasn't just Liam. It wasn't just Jason. This thing inside me—this sharp, unrelenting instinct-was always there, waiting for an excuse to surface.
There's a fire inside me—burning, relentless. It rises whenever a man is involved, a sharp sting, an instinct that tells me to strike first, to hurt them before they can hurt me.
But why?
Why do I want to see them in pain? Why do I crave control, like I need to make them surrender, to hear them beg?
The answer feels close, just out of reach, and the frustration only fuels the rage inside me. I'm not just at war with Liam or the men around me—I'm at war with myself.
Maybe it's my past.
Maybe it's just who I am.
Maybe... oh no.
Do I hate men?
The realization hits like a slap. My breath hitches. My pulse pounds.
I hate men. That's why I lash out. That's why I react with anger to the smallest things they do. It's not about them. It's about me.
No. That can't be right. I don't hate men. I mean, who would? They're just... part of the world, part of us.
Except...
I freeze.
I'm—
Gay.
A laugh bursts from my lips, loud and reckless, like someone just told me the greatest joke in history. I can't be gay. That's impossible.
But then I think back—to that night with Jack, to his mouth on my pussy, his mouth moving against it. Still I felt nothing. Not a single spark. Not even a moan left my lips. Just anger. Hatred. A burning fury deep in my bones, like I had been betrayed, used, played.
If it wasn't that... then maybe—
Maybe I really am.