“That’s a lie.”
“Harsh,” he says, but he backs off, trailing after me anyway. “So what’s the plan, boss?”
“There’s no plan.”
Nash makes a thoughtful sound. “That seems unlikely.”
I don’t answer because if I do, I’m going to say something dumb.I can’t stop thinking about her.
Instead, I go back to work.
That holds me together for another hour. Maybe two.
Then Clay catches me by the feed shed.
He doesn’t come in hot. Clay’s quieter. More direct. If Nash is a mosquito, Clay is a fence post. He just stands there until you deal with him.
He watches me tighten a bolt on the feeder hinge, then hands me a wrench as if he’s my partner on a job site and not my brother about to interrogate me.
“You’ve been weird,” he says.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
Clay snorts. “Not like your normal weird. Like… you’re thinking too hard weird.”
I keep my focus on the bolt. “I think hard all the time.”
“You think hard about cattle,” he corrects. “Not feelings.”
I finally glance at him. “You got a point here, or are we just listing my personality flaws?”
His eyes flick with amusement, then soften. “I heard you haven’t been sleeping.”
“Who told you that?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Your face.”
I grunt and go back to work.
Clay waits. And when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “Is she okay?”
I know who he means. He doesn’t even have to say her name.
“I don’t know,” I admit, and the honesty tastes of rust. “She’s been… off.”
Clay nods slowly. “Yeah. She’s got a lot going on.”
I feel my chest tighten. “You think I don’t know that?”
He holds up his hands. “Easy. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying… maybe don’t take it personally if she’s pulling back.”
I swallow, rough. “I’m not.”
Clay gives me a look that saysliar.
I scowl.
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything. But if you do, I won’t be an ass about it.”
