Page 47 of Omega’s Fold

It would explain why he came at all, when a man like him from a city like his would normally have fought the cohabitation order in front of a judge for a month. It would explain why he didn’t tell me.

But he is my prime match. That is definitely true. I can feel it in my blood, but that doesn’t mean that Julian Duffield didn’t use that opportunity to spy on us for Linden.

Which leaves the other thing, which is worse, and is that he was here by accident, and he slept with me by choice, and he lied by staying quiet, and at some point in the last week I started to think he was mine.

I put my face in my hands.

I don’t cry. I was going to, when the sound of the sedan’s engine disappeared at the end of the track, and I didn’t.

Now the moment has passed and my body has decided we are doing this dry. Fine. I take one breath and another then I stand up, because the cattle still need looking at and there is no version of this morning where that stops being true.

Donna’s truck comes into the yard a little after ten.

She stops at the porch and lets the boys out and stays in the cab with her hands on the wheel. I walk across the yard to her window. She rolls it down.

“You okay?” she says.

“Not really.”

“Oh honey. I’m here for you, no matter what. You know that, right?” I nod.

She looks past me toward the barn. Then at me again. “He gone?”

“Yeah, finally.”

“I need to get back home but how about I come over tomorrow night. I’ll bring that tuna casserole you like.”

“Thanks, Donna.”

She looks at me for a long second. Then she puts the truck in reverse. “You deserved better than that, Wy. I know you. You’re going to overthink this. Don’t. This was all on him.”

She pulls out.

Matthew is on the porch with his backpack at his feet and a stuffed horse under his arm. When I reach the top step he walks into my legs and puts his face against my hip and stays there. I set my hand on the back of his head. Caleb is at the porch rail looking out at the yard with his hands in his pockets. He does not turn around.

“Go in and wash up,” I say to Matthew. “I’ll come fix lunch.”

He goes.

Caleb stays at the rail. I stand next to him and I look at the same yard he is looking at. The dust from Donna’s truck is still hanging over the track.

“What an asshole,” he says.

I don’t tell him off for cursing. He’s too old for it. Besides, he’s right.

“I’ll do the calves this afternoon.”

“No, you need to concentrate on school.”

“Let me help, Wyatt. Please. I’m not a little kid anymore. And that jerk--” he breaks off. “That jerk didn’t deserve you.”

I look at him. “Okay,” I say, finally. “Thank you.”

He nods and goes inside.

I stand on the porch a minute longer. The sun is fully up now. Somewhere past the ridge the Linden pumps are running. I can hear them if I listen.

The weeks pass. I get up and I feed the cattle and I fix what needs fixing and I cook dinner and I put Matthew to bed and then I go up and I lie in my bed and I don’t sleep much and I get up and I do it again.