It was strange to see her now, compared to when we were kids. Even though she was guarded back then, it paled in comparison to how she was now. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with her ex-husband. It wasn’t my place to pry. By all accounts, I should let it lie until she told me—if that day ever came—but my curiosity was too strong. I needed to know if there was anything to worry about, for her safety and my daughter’s.
Grabbing my phone, I typed in Cleo’s name in the search bar. The only thing I knew for sure was she’d never changed her last name. I scrolled through the results, finding nothing beyond brief mentions in articles about the ranch or a story about local teachers in Ashwood Independent School District. I scanned foranything that might give me some sort of clue about her life before.
Nothing. Zip. Zilch.
“Dammit,” I muttered, taking another sip. Where had she lived before? Montana, wasn’t it?
Adjusting the search, multiple hits with her name popped up. Most were similar to what I’d just seen, discussing the connection between Black Springs and a dude ranch in Montana. Apparently, Cleo’s ex-husband and his brother were trying to revitalize their parents’ legacy by leeching onto the Hayes name.
There was a picture of the three of them standing in front of a large wooden fence. At first glance, they looked content. Happy, even. If I hadn’t known her the way I did, I probably would’ve assumed the same and minded my business, but there was something off. I just couldn’t quite place it.
I zoomed in, immediately noticing Cleo’s stiff posture and rigid smile despite the grainy black and white picture. Without thinking, I popped his name into the field and waited. It was likely going to be a dead end, but I was desperate enough to try anything at this point.
The moment the search loaded, my blood ran cold. Assault, battery, and harassment were the first few things I saw. I clicked on the first link, seeing his haggard face staring back at me from his mug shot. I’d only met the guy once in passing, right after my mother’s diagnosis and my agreeing to marry Liv, but I didn’t see a single hint of familiarity in his features. His eyes were soulless, beady little things that were damn near black. I couldn’t make out a lick of color in his irises, despite them being listed as blue. He looked high out of his goddamn mind.
“What a low-life piece of shit,” I muttered in horror. Was this the type of shit she was dealing with? I was going to be fucking sick.
A notification from the last person I ever expected appearedat the top of my screen, drawing my attention away from the jail log.
Cleo
What’re you doing right now? I can’t stop thinking about you.
I stared at the message, wondering if I was reading it right.
Grady
Are you drunk?
That was the only explanation I could think of, because there was no way in hell Cleo was texting me at nearly midnight, telling me how much she missed me. No way at all.
Cleo
Maybe a little
Grady
Ah, that explains it
Cleo
You didn’t answer the question. What’re you doing right now?
I fought a smile, knowing damn well I should shut it down. But I could picture her sitting there, frustrated at my avoidance, brows pinched together. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I typed out my reply.
Grady
Talking to you. I thought that was obvious?
Cleo
One of us is very bad at sexting…
I choked on my beer, spilling what was left of it down my shirt. “Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed, pulling it over my head andusing it to wipe at my skin. What the hell was happening right now?
Grady
Sexting? Is that what this is?
