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Chapter Two
“Well that’s somethingI never thought I’d see again.” Ben steps around the back of Maria, the cow I’m currently huddled beneath trying to milk.
“Something I never thought I’d have to do again,” I grumble, wiping the back of my arm across my forehead.
It’s the beginning of April and only around fifty degrees, but I’m sweating like it’s the dead of summer.
“She still not cooperating?” he asks, taking notice of the near empty bucket below Maria.
“So it’s not just me?” I sit up straight, getting the first real look at my younger brother. It’s been nearly a year and a half since I saw him last.
My parents were beyond upset that I didn’t make it home for Christmas this past year but I had a job opportunity pop up and I couldn’t afford not to take it.
Ben looks like he’s aged ten years in that time. He’s broader, more filled out than the last time I saw him. Like Chris, Ben seems to have spent the winter growing out a beard. I’ve never seen him with facial hair before and I have to admit, it’s a little weird.
“I mean, it might be you.” He shrugs, giving me a teasing grin.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes dramatically before pushing to a stand. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and take her back outside?” I suggest, having brought her into the barn for milking.
“Pretty sure you’re legs aren’t broken.” He shakes his head. “Good to see some things never change.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I peel the plastic gloves off my hands and toss them into the trash bucket to my right.
“Still trying to push your work off on everyone else.” He smirks.
“I’ve never done that,” I insist, pausing for a moment. “Okay, well maybe that’s not entirely true, but what good is being the only girl if you can’t rely on your brothers to pick up some of the hard labor?”
“And walking a cow back out to the pen is hard labor?” He arches a brow, his smile spreading.
“Oh, shut up.” I stick my tongue out at him before turning to untie the lead from the post in front of Maria. “Come on, girl.” I tug gently, relieved when she follows me without resistance.
“So how long you here for?” Ben follows me from the barn, walking along my left side.
“Hopefully not long.” I stop, waiting for Ben to unlatch the gate to the fence before leading Maria inside. “I’ve auditioned for a few different roles. I expect a call back any day now.”
“Do you really or is that just wishful thinking?” he asks, not afraid to call me on my bluff.
“I really do. I’m not giving up, Ben,” I tell him, latching the gate once Maria is inside. “It’s going to happen for me, you’ll see.”
I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, but I can tell neither of us actually believes what I’m saying. I’ve had very little success over the last four years, and I don’t expect that to change now that I’m back in Wyoming.
“Well, I hope it does.” He bumps his shoulder against mine as we make our way back up toward the house. “But in the meantime, I’m glad your home.”
“Thanks.” I force a smile, wishing I felt glad to be here.
Don’t get me wrong, a part of me feels almost relieved to be here. This is home. The place I grew up. Where I learned how to ride a horse and fix a tractor. Where I climbed trees and had snow fort wars with my brothers during the winter. Every single happy memory I have is from my time here.
But the other part of me, the part of me that has always longed for something so much bigger than this ranch, well that part of me feels like she’s crawling out of her skin. It’s strange to feel so torn in two completely different directions. I want to be here and yet at the same time it’s the absolute last place I want to be.
“Hey, Ben, can you give me a hand with this?” My brother and I turn in unison to see Thad a few feet to our right, next to the detached garage. He’s elbow deep in the hood of the old pick-up my dad uses to haul feed from town.
I’ve managed to avoid him all day, for reasons I don’t entirely understand, but I can’t ignore the way my stomach twists at the sight of him.
“Laken will,” Ben offers, quickly continuing before I can say anything. “She’s a hundred times better at cars than I am.” He tries to justify volunteering me by complimenting me, as if that makes it better.
I am good with vehicles, so he’s not wrong there. Working on the trucks and tractors around the ranch was something I always did with my dad growing up. It was our thing and I got pretty good at it. But I also know Ben doesn’t feel like messing with it. I’m not the only one notorious for trying to push my work off on other people.
“I promised Mom I’d be in to help with dinner,” I stumble out, not sure why I feel extremely nervous all of a sudden.
