The first time, sure, it can be forgiven since we both were frustrated and there was pent-up aggression towards the other, but after last night, things are different now.
We didn’t have sex purely out of anger; it was like it was a necessity, inevitable. It was purely desire at that point, and the way he pulled me away from that other guy wasn’t because he didn’t like me at all. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t care who I danced with.
“I need to talk to you,” I tell him, and he sighs softly, already bracing.
“Can this wait? I got to check on Jesse and Mason before we send the cattle out to the pasture again,” he says as he starts to walk around me, but I step in front of him to block his path, planting my boots.
“It’s important.” I stare at him to convey how serious this is, not blinking. I’ve learned that Gage has a habit of trying to avoid confrontation or anything involving talking, but if he just took the time to listen instead of running away, we’d probably have a different situation on our hands right now.
He sighs deeply, clearly bothered by my interruption, but he’s really going to hate it if he sends out the cattle to a pasture that isn’t protected and something goes wrong.
Of course, I know he thinks what I want to tell him has nothing to do with the ranch, but if that’s the conversation that comes out of this, then so be it for once. It’s long overdue anyway, and he knows it.
He holds his arm out to send me out of the large barn, not wanting Hank to overhear anything—not that he could from this distance.
The machines inside drown out most of the sound, and Hank is down on the far side of the barn. I’ll bet he’s expecting us to get into it, since we can’t seem to have a conversation without it turning tense lately.
We walk out of the cattle barn and cross to the horse barn. Every step closer feels uneasy—tight in my chest—because every moment spent with him is like a ticking time bomb.
He’s either going to simmer and burn out, or he’s going to erupt. Either way never ends well for me because somehow I’m always in the middle of it with him.
I wish it weren’t this way, but ever since I walked on this ranch, he’s been looking for reasons to deem me the bad guy. No matter how many attempts I make to prove I want what is best for this place, it’s never enough.
We step inside, and he shuts the door behind us harder than necessary. I turn around and face him, his boots shuffling against the dirt as he places his hands on his waist. “All right, state your piece,” he says, holding one hand out to move me along.
I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Ain’t it obvious? You want to talk about our moments of weakness and—” I hold my hand up.
“I’m sorry, our moments of weakness?” I ask him, suddenly scoffing out loud. “During the storm, sure, I’ll admit it was a lapse of judgment on both of our parts, but last night was all you,” I reply, making sure he understands that it was he who came to me, not the other way around.
Did I give in? Sure, I’ll admit it, I’m not innocent in that regard, but I didn’t seek it out like he did. If it wasn’t for him getting all huffy and puffy, none of this would have happened in the first place.
“Wow, you really don’t like to take responsibility for anything, do you?” he asks, almost amused, and as much as I want to continue this conversation, it isn’t the time right now.
I didn’t ask to speak with him privately to hash out whatever is going on between us, but unfortunately, based on how this conversation has turned, I doubt I’ll have him in a good mood at all now.
“As much as I want to respond to that, this isn’t why I needed to speak to you,” I tell him, changing the subject deliberately. His face visibly shifts to concern, guarded and sharp.
The nerves over how he is going to react begin to pool inside my stomach, but like all fears, I know I have to face them head-on.
“I was walking the perimeter, trying to clear my head, when I saw a cut in the fence.”
He curses under his breath. “The new one?” I nod, and he sighs deeply, turning away. I don’t have to see him to feel the heat of his anger boiling. He suddenly whips his hand up to his hat, takes it off his head, and throws it to the ground.
He turns around, his eyes seething, but that’s when I realize that his anger isn’t directed at the fence—it’s toward me. “What the hell happened?”
My eyes widen. “Me? You think I cut the fence?” I ask him, and he shrugs.
“I don’t know, Sloane. Everything has been turning to shit since you showed up, and you’ve been acting weird as all hell, so you can’t blame me for not trusting you,” he says, and I shake my head in disbelief.
Is he being serious right now?
Everything I have ever tried to do for this place has been for the good of it, every single bit.
The only reason Gage can’t see that is because he’s never taken the time to listen to anything I’ve said. And weird?
Weird my ass—that’s rich. If anything is weird around here, it’s the old water main and the large cut in the east part of the fence that no one wants to explain.
