Christmastime Cowboy

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SABRINA WAS MAD at herself for telling him any of this. She was mad at herself for walking into this discussion. For letting him know that she had made herself vulnerable like that, that she had been so affected by losing him.

But honestly, she had been angry at herself for thirteen years. For detonating a bomb in her life because she had lost what she could see now was simply a crush. At the time, it had felt like love. Destroyed, broken love. As if her heart had been pulled out of her chest, still beating, and dashed to the rocks to be pounded by the surf. No one had ever suffered as she had, she had been certain.

It hadn’t just been about love. She had been taught at her father’s knee not to give trust. Not to friends or anyone. To hold her emotions close. To keep walls in place to stay protected, and she’d done that. With everyone but him.

When she’d lost him, she’d not only lost the man she’d fallen in love with, she’d lost her first real friend. The only person who knew all of those things about her. How hard she tried to please her father. How she felt continually caught in the middle of being a good daughter and trying to fit in with friends. Trying to have friends at all.