“Hey!” I said, raising my hands in the air. “He’s notmyanything.”
They both turned and stared at me, with a shared look that said,really bitch?And in their defense, they might have been right. Some part of Lincoln felt like mine even when he wasn’t.
Cleo switched off the stove, moving the bacon pan to the side before turning my way. “You’re not selfish, Josie. Not even a little bit, okay? You made a poor decision, and you’ve apologized for it.”
I brought my lip between my teeth, cringing because I definitely had not done that.
“You did apologize, right?” Cleo asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“Define apologize…”
My sister threw up her hands. “You haven’t apologized? I thought you said you talked?”
“Well, we did,” I said, crossing my arms. “Lincoln followed me into the barn and wanted me to look him in the eye and tell him what happened didn’t matter, and then Ellis called.”
“Oh shit,” Lennox said, resting against the counter. “I’m guessing that’s why I found you sitting on your ass last night?”
“I may not have handled the situation well,” I agreed.
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
I tipped my head back and groaned. “I don’t know, y’all. I mean, at the end of the day, nothing has really changed, has it? He still lives in Tennessee; I still live here.”
“And you have a boyfriend,” Lennox added.
I pointed in her direction. “Yeah, I have an Ellis. So, the point is moot.”
Cleo cocked her head. “Do you realize you never say that Ellis is your boyfriend?”
“What? Yes, I do.”
Surely, I did.Right?I mean, I thought it went without saying. We were together. Everyone else called him my boyfriend.
“No,” Lennox said slowly. “You never do. You call him your Ellis, not your boyfriend.”
I stared at my sisters. “What’s the difference? Y’all already know we’re dating.”
Cleo shrugged, turning around to snag a piece of toast. “I just think it’s interesting. Maybe you’re holding the title for someone else.”
Leaning forward, I snagged a piece of my own and plopped it into my mouth. “You, my dear sister, are reaching.”
“And you,” she said, booping me on my nose, “are delusional.”
josie
. . .
I staredout the kitchen window, watching the sky change from an inky blue to the soft grey of dawn. My dad was at the stove, humming a Keith Whitley song while he cooked eggs and bacon—which was turkey, much to his dismay—for a couple of breakfast sandwiches.
This was my favorite time of day. There were no people milling about, no demands, stress, or to-do lists calling my name. It was just me and my dad and the simple necessities that kept the world turning.
The first two days of the clinic had flown by in a rush. They were filled with fundamental basics so Dad could assess the attendees’ current skills and needs. I stood beside the arena, taking notes as he rattled off his thoughts on each rider and horse. He liked to keep files on everyone—at the end of the clinic, he handed them over with the course certification. They detailed measurable improvement over the two weeks of training and a schedule of upcoming seminars he’d be teaching over the rest of the year.
I didn’t know how he’d done it on his own before. Mom would occasionally help, but Dad had been the one to put in the workand keep things organized. It was only when his health started to decline that he brought me on board to keep him straight.
“Will you pass me the cheese?” Dad asked, reaching for the bread in the toaster.
“Dad, those are going to be too?—”
