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“Get out of here,” I demanded, but she didn’t move.
I ignored her and opened my laptop on the coffee table, logging into my account. I could feel the pent-up pressure release from my chest as I read the balance. So close, I thought.
“Yet so far,” she needled, giggling a little at the end.
My alarm clock went off at four thirty in the morning and I woke startled, confused and more than a little creeped out by my dream. I looked around and had forgotten where I was. My surroundings were nearly pitch black.
“Stupid alarm,” Bridge whispered, her voice broken from sleep.
Dear God. Trailer. Bridge. Pregnant. Cattle. Ranch…Cricket.
It all came rushing to me in that instant, overwhelming me but the last image, the image of Cricket’s smiling face, made me chill. I smiled to myself. I want her.
Bridge turned on the light and the smile fell. I threw the covers over my face and groaned.
“Four thirty a.m. was invented by God to vex me.”
“And me,” Bridge chimed in.
“I guess it’s no more than we deserve,” I laughed.
“Speak for yourself,” she said before closing the bathroom door. I heard her vomiting on the other side.
I forced myself to get up and brushed my teeth at the kitchen sink, looking out into the drive. It was pitch black. The only light was from the window I sat at, and that only extended a few feet.
Bridge emerged and laid back down, moaning. I passed her, quickly smoothing her hair out of her face, then headed to the bathroom to shower. While I was in there the night before, I discovered I had only about three different positions I could make to wash myself. I had to angle my head to rinse my hair. It was a bitch.
I rummaged through my stuff the night before and found that I didn’t have anything to wear that wouldn’t be scrutinized by Cricket, so I picked my oldest pair of jeans, a thermal and a button-up. I donned the boots I’d worn the day before.
I opened the door, passing the afterbirth-covered clothes I’d worn and thrown on the ground. As I mourned their loss, I was interrupted by a four-wheeler’s lights meandering down the snow-covered dirt drive. My hand immediately shot up to protect my eyes from their brightness, so stark against the black morning. The vehicle came to a stop and the lights were switched off. It was Jonah.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I just thought Bridget would like a ride up to the main house.”
“That was nice of you,” I said, taking in Jonah.
“Yeah, well, I figured she wouldn’t want to walk through the cold and snow in her condition.”
I opened the door and leaned in, keeping Jonah outside. “Bridge, are you decent?”
“Yeah, I’m dressed. Why? What’s up?” she asked, edging her way down the narrow center hallway, only looking a little green.
“Jonah Hunt is here to give you a ride up to the main house.”
She bit her lower lip. “Oh, that was kind.”
I let the door shut behind me. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“Hush, Spence.”
She edged past me and opened the door for Jonah. “Come in,” she invited. Jonah climbed inside. “That was nice of you,” she told him.
The idiot smiled a shit-eating grin and removed his cap from his head. I waited for the “aw, shucks,” but it never came.
“Just let me grab my coat and I’ll be right with you.”
Jonah and I stood in absolute silence.
