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Nothing like jumping in with both feet.
CHAPTER 3
Drake
The sunlight streaming in through the window caught my attention. My body rose to the occasion, alerting me to the ranch life that needed tending to. It was a part of my past life that I stilled struggled to erase.
It brought me peace, so I just kept going back to it. It wasn’t like I couldn't afford to hire help - I could hire a bus load of full-time laborers, but I didn’t feel the need.
Animals needed to be fed and horses needed to be run. Crops needed watered, some picked, and vacant acres needed to be fertilized to replenish their nutrients. Life didn’t stop when I wasn’t on tour. If I wasn’t touring and pleasing the crowds, I was breaking my back on this ranch.
I sprawled out, allowing the sun to graze over the scars on my legs, illuminating the parts of my skin I could still feel and coldly throwing me back to that damn accident.
The accident that almost took my fucking leg off. Drinking and tractors don't mix apparently. Who knew?
Groaning, I rose up in bed. My head was pounding from the birds chirping at my window. If I had a pellet gun, I would’ve shot their asses off the fucking sill. They needed to shut up so I could wake up in peace.
I pulled myself from bed and shuffled into the bathroom. Getting my eyes to open the first day back from a tour was not easy. I’d gotten used to sleeping in, napping whenever I wanted, and performing instead of getting my hands dirty on farm. I splashed some water in my face and felt the stubble growing on my chin.
Luckily, on the ranch, I didn’t have to worry about shaving every damn day.
Dragging on a pair of jeans and my boots, I reached for a shirt I could get mud all over after running circles around the horses. I headed down to the kitchen to find something to eat, praying we had some damn coffee I could lay my hands on. I was looking forward to talking with Paul, catching up with my old school friend and figuring out what all had gone on at the ranch while I’d been off touring.
But Paul was like clockwork, so it shouldn’t have shocked me that he was already out with the cattle.
Grabbing the lukewarm coffee pot, I poured myself a cup and stuck it in the microwave. I watched Paul wrangle up the pregnant heifers as the vet’s truck came rumbling across the field. There were four pregnant ones when I left, but I saw Paul had rounded up seven.
Guess our bull was taking advantage of the prime time.
Grinning, I pulled my coffee out of the microwave. I drank it down, grimacing at the heat as it burned my throat. It was the type of pain I looked forward to every morning. It helped to wake me up until the caffeine could kick in and relieved my head of the pounding ache.
But once I finished slamming it all back, I heard voices coming from the living room. Hank was talking to my sister, Elsie. I didn't want to deal with Hank, but I felt bad for neglecting my sister. I'd been gone for months, finally come home and spend my first day back hungover. Yeah, I felt like a real asshole.
“What was your book about?” Hank asked.
“Human behavior. I’m trying to figure out why people lie,” Elsie said.
“Why would you be interested in something like that?” Hank asked.
“I was told people sometimes lie when the person they are talking to is not trustworthy, but I think I am someone who is easy to talk to. Do you think I’m easy to talk to, Hank?”
“I think you’re very easy to talk to, Elsie. So, what did you come up with?”
“People lie for four main reasons. One is to protect someone, another is to protect themselves. Another reason is to gain a strategic advantage, and the other is to hide.”
“To hide?” Hank asked. “What do you mean?”
“For some people, lying is a personal advantage. It helps them to—”
I hung onto my sister’s every word as she stopped in her tracks. It happened a lot with her. Her autism made some things difficult for her to process. Like wrinkles in her socks. She hated wrinkles in her socks and constantly described it as a feeling of sandpaper against her legs. If there was a wrinkle in her sock at any moment, she would have to stop and fix it, otherwise, she couldn’t focus. As intelligent as she was in some areas, she was absolutely childlike in others. That was the push and pull of autism.
She was like that with a lot of things, and I listened as Hank helped her with her current issue.
Her fingers were sticky from the pastry he had brought her from her favorite bakery.
I set my mug in the kitchen sink as I walked into the room. Elsie’s head was on a swivel, her eyes darting everywhere as Hank wiped off her hands. Elsie was trying to get away from him, pulling and tugging as he tried to clean off her hands.
“You’re replacing one issue with another,” I said.
