“I’m not just grieving,” I ramble on, the words spilling out faster than I can stop them. “I just came from the Carson ranch. Their cattle… Tex called, and it was a disaster. They were dying, Clara. I had to… I had to do things…”
I shudder, the image of a bloated cow’s stomach flashing behind my eyes.
“And Billy was there. He barely looked at me. He hates me. I can feel it. It’s like this… this wall of ice. And the whole town probably knows by now. They know I left. They know I abandoned my dad, and now I’m back, and they all hate me. I can feel them watching me, judging me.”
Clara’s expression softens with a sympathy so profound it almost hurts to look at. She reaches out with her free hand,gently wiping at the tears I didn’t even realize were still streaming down my cheeks.
“Shhh. Breathe. Nobody hates you.”
“They do,” I insist, my voice a pathetic whisper.
She lets me cry for another moment, her hand a comforting presence. Then she asks the question that slices through everything, simple and direct.
“We’re not going back to New York, are we?”
I look at her, at my best friend who dropped everything to come here with me, and I can’t lie. Not to her.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, the admission feeling like a defeat. “I really don’t know.”
Clara nods, as if that’s the answer she expected. She stands up, holding a hand out to me. “Come on. Let’s go inside. You can’t make a decision sitting here.”
I let her pull me to my feet. My legs feel unsteady, like they might give out. I follow her up the porch steps and into the house.
The first thing I notice is the floor. It’s clean. The piles of mail and old newspapers that had been accumulating on the entryway table are gone, stacked into neat piles.
The dust that had coated some of the surfaces has been wiped away. It still smells like my dad, like old books and his specific brand of coffee, but underneath it is the scent of lemon cleaner.
“Wow,” I say, my voice hoarse. “You… you cleaned.”
Clara shrugs, a faint blush on her cheeks. “I had to do something. Just to keep busy, you know? It was either this or start reorganizing your father’s office, and I thought that might be crossing a line.”
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. Her small act of kindness is more overwhelming than the cattle crisis, more painful than Billy’s hatred.
I sink onto the couch, the worn cushions familiar against my back.
“Where’s Cole?” I ask, the question feeling distant, like it belongs to another person, another life.
Clara pauses, her back to me as she fusses with a pillow on the armchair.
“Oh. He left,” she says, her voice a little too casual. “Got another call from the office. Said it couldn’t wait. He was sorry to go, but he had to get back to the city.”
I just stare at her. My boyfriend, who had arrived in the morning, apologizing, saying he’d messed up and that he shouldn’t have let me come here alone, left me again.
I grab my phone, open my contacts, find his name, and press block.
I should be angry. I should feel hurt. But all I feel is a vast, hollow emptiness. He’s gone. And the part of me that should care is just… tired.
Too tired to even process the betrayal.
It’s just one more reason to run. Or one more reason to stay, to figure out what’s real and what’s not.
I look around the clean room, at my best friend who is trying so hard to hold me together, and I don’t know anything at all.
Billy’s hands are on my skin, rough and sure, the scent of pine smoke and leather filling my lungs until I can’t breathe.
We’re not anywhere I recognize, just a place of heat and shadow. His mouth is on my neck, his teeth scraping my scent gland, and my body arches, a silent plea for more, for everything.
I can feel his knot swelling at my entrance, a promise of a bond I broke years ago. I try to say his name, but the word dissolves on my tongue.
