Page 23 of Saltwater Cowboy

“Then you almost punched a man because he was friendly?”

I nodded vigorously. “All men should become extinct.” I paused, glancing at Charlie. “Except you. You don’t count.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes at me. “Not sure if I should be honored or offended…”

“Take the compliment, Charles.”

“Are you about to enter your All Men Suck phase?” Blythe asked, eyes locked on mine.

“Fuc—” I remembered there’s a kid sitting at the table. “Fudge yeah I am.”

Blythe smirked. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Charlie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Here we go…”

Wren, completely unbothered, happily stabbed at her spaghetti. “Mom says all boys are dumb except for Dad.”

Blythe pointed her fork at Charlie. “See? Even our child understands.”

Charlie huffed. “I feel so appreciated.”

“You should.” I smirked, reaching for my wine glass. “You made the cut.”

Charlie muttered something under his breath before taking another bite.

Blythe leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “So, what’s the next move? You staying here forever? Running off to the mountains to become one with nature?”

I sighed dramatically. “I have no plan. Right now, I’m just a broken woman with her life packed in suitcases and an irrational hatred for orange Skittles.”

Blythe clinked her glass against mine. “To new beginnings. And to never trusting a man who prefers orange Skittles.”

“I’ll stay here for a little while if that’s okay. I need to contact the leasing company tomorrow and cancel the lease. I need to find a job. Literally start from scratch.”

“You always have a home here.” Blythe consoled.

A yawn escaped, my day fully catching up to me. “I think I’m going to go lie down and try to sleep this headache off.”

I picked up my plate and left it on the counter, “I’ll probably come back for that.”

Blythe and Charlie offered sympathetic looks.

“Call down if you need anything,” Blythe offered. “And get some rest.”

I made my way upstairs and got into the plush bed Blythe had made for me.

Of course, sleep didn’t come easy. It never did when my mind was running laps around the same miserable thoughts.

I flipped onto my other side, pulling the blanket tighter around me. The guest room was cozy, but it wasn’t mine. It smelled like fresh laundry and whatever candle Blythe had burning earlier—something warm, like vanilla and amber.

I exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. My heart wasn’t just broken; it was wrecked, gutted, torn apart in ways I didn’t know were possible. I had every intention of drifting off to sleep, of shutting it all off for a few hours, but instead, I lay there, wide awake, fully convinced I was going to die from a broken heart.

And if I didn’t? Well, I’d have to figure out how to survive it.

AWAKE MY SOUL

I burned through an entire box of tissues, watching as the clock dragged itself closer to dawn. The bed felt too big, too cold—like a hollow space where something vital used to be.

Any excitement I had for this move had vanished somewhere over the fly-over states, replaced with a crushing emptiness. My life had been on the brink of something beautiful, and now it felt like a wasteland. Every plan I had carefully built was gone, scattered like ash.