Page 85 of Will to Run

“Hey, Lanie! What are you up to? Come on up,” I say, pushing my other bistro chair out with my foot to invite her to sit.

“Oh, I’m just going to lie straight to your face and say I was in town on the strip,” she says as she takes the seat.

The unexpected comment makes me laugh. “Two points for honesty. What’s going on?”

“I have some questions for you,” she admits. “And I thought it would be better to ask you in person.”

I love that Lane “Lanie” Locklin is the person Jaxon chose to fill the socials role. I love her as a human, I love her work, and I love the way that he approached how and why he hired her. It is such an interesting choice because even though Lanie and I were cut from the same foreign to the ranch cloth, in the same breath, her hire makes total sense.

“First off, how’d your day go? This is your last week, right?” she asks.

Weird question to want to ask in person, I think. But in the same way that I connected with Molly and Hazel and Jaxon, Lane and I are connected by a cosmic string, too, so I answer her honestly.

“Anticlimactic? I don’t know. I’m still sitting with a lot of really uncomfortable feelings, and I just keep circling around them.” I feel like I can speak a little more freely to her because she’s not a member of the Wills family. “I feel broken and sad and angry… and so fucking lost.”

“I’m new here, so I have no skin in the game. Do you think he meant it?” she wonders out loud. “It’s a weird question, I know. But, like, do you believe his words?”

Quinn and I talked about that possibility this weekend. Because if he meant it, he had so much space to make a clean break. But he isn’t pulling away. He keeps trying to dig in.

“Regardless of that answer, I’m still trying to figure out if that matters if he meant it or not.”

“That’s fair,” she says

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a side or anything, but I’m obviously closer to you than I am to him. And I don’t have a full grasp of what he was like before the split, but he seems… from a true outsider perspective… pretty bad. He’s mopey, angry, and probably drinking more than he should. And if he believed those terrible things he was saying, he shouldn’t care, right?”

“And you know this how?” I smile, trying to get information about what’s going on with her.

“Well, that’s kind of my second question,” she laughs.

She and I end up talking until the sun goes down, ordering food, and talking some more. It’s not the night I expected by a long shot, but it’s the night I need, and she ends up sleeping on my couch because we talk into the early morning hours.

“Hey, Della.” The mere timber of that voice sets me on edge the next morning at work. I look up, and I’m cornered in the stall. Again. Maybe I just won’t come back tomorrow because then no one can corner me like this if I’m not in the barn.

“Leave me alone, Cayson. I have nothing to say to you,” I reply with as little emotion as possible, even though I want to punch him in his stupid face.

“Please hear me out, Del.”

“Let me rephrase that to make it easy. No. I have no dealings with you. I won’t listen to you. I won’t talk to you. I owe you nothing. Right now, I have four days left in my made-up job before I’m done. Although I suppose it wouldn’t matter because this is all just some complicated game anyway, as you’ve so graciously pointed out behind a closed door.”

“Della,” he takes a step towards me.

“Cayson, I swear to God, if you take another step towards me, I will not be held responsible for the injury I inflict with this pitchfork, and that extends to death,” I say, wondering if the tool in my hand could actually stab someone.

Thankfully, he steps back.

“I messed up,” he starts. But before he can continue, I cut him off.

“No, it’s me that messed up. I thought that I was lucky enough to find something for myself. Something that wasn’t for optics… not out of guilt… and certainly not to take advantage of someone. I really liked your brother. But that’s gone. Just like I will be from this ranch soon.” I haven’t said that piece out loud too much, and the sentence stings more than I want it to.

“Can we talk about this?” he presses.

“Talk?” I laugh humorously. “There is quite literally nothing to say. I know where I stand in your world. It was the reminder that while I don’t belong in my bi ex-fiancé’s richy-rich world, I certainly don’t belong on your ranch either.” I stare at him as I deliver the message that I don’t want to believe.

That thought makes my lip wobble the slightest bit, because although I came here a fish out of water, I was enjoying learning how to swim.

“No, you don’t understand,” he tries again.