“We’ll find her.” Dom gets the truck started in no time as I beam with excitement.
And then, dread.
Oh my God. If we find her, she’s going to yell at me and treat me like a child, and I’m going to look like such a fool in front of the hot, grumpy cowboy.
Fuck my whole life.
I can’t tell him that either, can’t talk about being treated like a child.Oh yeah, Dom? Forget I was spiraling. I can’t find her because she’s going to treat me like a little kid and embarrass me in front of you, and for some reason, I care about what you think very much, even if I just met you.
It’s fine. Everything is fine because we won’t find her.
And we found her.
Damn it.
She’s walking back to her truck from the shed she gave me to organize. At least that’s done.
She smiles at the truck when she sees it, but as we approach her and she notices me in the front seat, her pleasant expression morphs into what I’ve come to associate her with: disagreement and disapproval.
I all but leap out of the truck. Is it still moving? Not entirely sure.
“Hi, so sorry I missed our meeting.”
She raises her hand, stopping me. “It’s fine. I was expecting it either way.”
“No, I was trying to— wait, what? You were expecting me not to show up?”
She nods, crossing her arms over her chest, phone in one hand, my livelihood on this farm in the other. “Yes. Two days of responsibilities seem to be your M.O.”
Ouch. “Lilly, that’s not fair. It was one meeting.”
“Sure. Out of the many you’ve missed over the years.”
“I’m trying to do better here. Why can’t you see that? I think you’re overreacting.” I lower my tone. “It was one meeting, and I truly wanted to go, but I fell asleep.”
She scoffs. “Are you so out of excuses that you’re resorting to that one? You don’t sleep.”
“I know! I was up, and then I went for a run, and then the sunrise, and then I fell asleep. I promise. I really want to do more. Give me more things to do. Look at the shed!” I point to it. “I did good. Can’t you see that?”
She lets out a breath, one carrying years of disappointment. It’s been a lot on her since our parents died. I get it. “You did a good job there.”
I smile, beaming with pride.
“Except.”
Jesus, here we go.
“There’s an empty shelf. Did you throw away all those totes? I hadn’t gotten a chance to go over them.”
I shake my head. “Of course not. Give me some credit. I took them to my cabin so I can go through them. There’s a lot of good stuff there.”
“Okay, good.”
“Yay! Can we do our meeting now? I want to know what else you need help with.”
She looks at her phone, her demeanor changing from annoyed at me to annoyed at whoever is on the end of the line. “I can’t now, but maybe later? Or tomorrow morning?”
Okaaaay. “What can I do today?” I know she needs help with things. I know she does.Please trust me.
