Savior Complex: A Small Town Love Triangle Romance

“Oh, I didn’t mean you,” she says.

“I know,” I say. But I don’t laugh. She’d mentioned that her horseback riding lessons all those years ago were like a therapy of sorts. I suddenly need to know, partly so I can understand, but also so I can hunt down whoever hurt her and make them pay. “What happened?” I ask her. “Who hurt you?”

Her face darkens, and she shakes her head quickly. I place my arms on her shoulders and look her in the eyes, now filling with tears.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I say. “But you’re safe here. If you ever need to talk about it, I’m a really good listener.”

She starts to say something, but shoots me a pained look. Not here, not now, she seems to be telling me.

“Let’s go see what’s happening at the bon fire,” she says aloud, and she jumps up and jogs toward the group of people before I have a chance to respond. I stay back for a moment, watching as she keeps her mask on with a huge smile, as if she’s been doing this for years. But having even seen just the smallest glimpse of her pain, I can’t unsee it. Even more, I think I know.

I think back to the night we met, when she’d been cornered by those guys. Any person would have been scared if they were facing guys that size who were ready to pounce on their prey. But Nina was petrified, completely paralyzed in her fear. I realize now, it’s because something like this has happened to her before.

I don’t know for sure, but I feel it in my gut, and it makes me want to tear apart any guy that comes near her. At this moment, she’s talking with Jake, and I immediately think of our earlier conversation.

“Oh, she’s chips and salsa, man. Just one taste, and I know I’d eat the whole bag.”

I want to get between them and push him off her. Even though it’s fucking Jake, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, he swore he wouldn’t go after her. But is he flirting now? Is she going for it?

Fuck, this girl is messing with my head. I have zero rights when it comes to who’s attracted to her, even if it makes me want to tear Jake apart—limb by limb. My only concern should be on my fiancé and doing my job while I still have it.

I push up from the sand and join the crowd. Nina avoids my gaze for the rest of our time at the beach, but once we’re all back on our horses, her eyes find mine, and she offers a small, embarrassed smile. I ride over to her, close enough to take her hand, and I do, gently squeezing it before letting go. Then I lead our group back to the trail and the barbecue dinner waiting for us.

After dinner, we light a fire in the pit between the cabins and stables. It’s an evening tradition at the ranch, along with all the ingredients to make any flavor of s’mores. There’s the traditional graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallow; but there’s also smashed berries, candied bacon, cookie butter, salted caramel, and chocolate covered potato chips.

It’s always a treat seeing the guests, especially the kids, exclaim over the different ingredients we offer. But tonight it’s a treat seeing the look on Nina’s face as she takes in the smorgasbord of sweets. Her earlier discomfort seems forgotten as she catches my eye with an open-mouthed grin, and that’s enough to make me jog over to her and squeeze her around the waist, selfishly capturing some of that joy for myself before I let her go.

Let’s just sweep stuff under the rug, okay? Because that’s what’s working for me too.

“This is incredible,” Nina says, her plate already loaded with her choices. I make my own plate, then find a space in the group where we can both add our speared marshmallows to the fire. She takes her time, holding hers just high enough to allow for a golden tan. But I stick mine right in the fire.

“Wow Winters, you really lack patience,” she says, her marshmallow still hovering above the flames.

I lift my constructed s’more to my mouth, a combination of the chocolate potato chips, bacon, and burnt marshmallow, then crunch down.

“I disagree,” I say, my mouth full. “I love a little char with my s’more. But for the things that matter most? I could wait a lifetime.”

She keeps her eyes on mine, and the weight of those words settles between us. As if they have meaning. As if they could possibly lead to what I truly want. But they won’t, and I break eye contact first, spearing another marshmallow as if that’s the most interesting thing here.

“I think I know what happened ten years ago,” she says. “Was it about your sister?”

I grow cold at the mention, the wind knocked from my chest. I know she’s not talking about Hazel.

“Your mother mentioned Amber,” she continues, a note of apology in her expression. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it, you—”

“No, it’s not that,” I share with her. “I just…” I pause, unsure what to say because in some ways I could tell Nina every damn thing about me. But this one hurts too much, and with a ranch full of guests, I just can’t. “Another time.” She starts to argue, but I take her hand. “Please, I can’t tonight, and if you can’t either, I understand. But if you’d like someone to listen, I’m your man.”

She looks at her hand in mine, her dainty fingers entwined with the roughness of mine.

“I want to talk about it,” she murmurs. “But I feel stupid because it was so long ago, and I should be over it by now. It’s not like I’m the sole stakeholder of trauma.” She looks at me then. “It’s not like losing someone so young, before their life really started.”

“There’s no competition on grief,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Time doesn’t mean it’s gone, you just keep learning new ways to live with it.”

I keep silent then, but my hand stays with hers, my thumb running over the smooth skin.

“I thought he loved me,” she starts, her eyes trained on her lap. Then she shares the most traumatic experience of her life. The date with the football quarterback. The field at their high school where he told her to meet him. Several of his friends appearing when she thought it would just be him.

How they held her down, covered her mouth, laughed while she cried.