Page 63 of His Last Nerve

I had to lie. I had to pretend so she would continue to fight for me. It was selfish. It was sickening, but I needed more time with her.

I needed my momma.

“I just—I just really miss you,” I whispered, picking at the blue lace of my nightie. I only had a few of these. They were old and worn, but they made me feel like I had my shit together. They made me feel I like the woman I was when I bought them. Confident. Driven. Kind.

That woman was naïve.

What I would give to be that naïve and happy again.

“I miss you, too,” she replied. “Let’s get your mind off of that stupid job, yeah?”

I wanted to laugh but I couldn’t. All I could do was agree. “Okay, Mom.”

She spent the next thirty minutes telling me about the pumpkins while I watched the sunrise over Hallow Ranch. In twenty years, when I looked back on this moment, I knew I would miss her voice the most.

Itwasaroundmid-morningwhen I got the guts to leave of the room. I heard a movement around five, and I assumed Denver was getting up for the day.

After getting off the phone with my mother, I got ready for the day.

There was a lot to do, and I couldn’t waste the day crying in a stranger’s bed.

I put on a face, piled my hair into an elegant “messy” bun on the top of my head and put on a dress. I didn’t pack many casual clothes, but I had a few sundresses to get me by.

This particular one was cotton, baby blue with tiny brown buttons down the front. I threw on a thin white, thin cardigan over it and my brown, strappy, heeled sandals. The outfit made me feel a little bit better, the brightness of it hiding the darkness lingering from yesterday.

I made my way downstairs, scanning for any signs of life. For some reason, I was drawn to the pale green kitchen, directly to the window above the sink. The last time I was here, I was blissfully unaware of the violence Denver Langston was capable of. I hugged myself, eyes on the bunkhouse and barn beyond.

Denver’s herd of cattle was in the front pasture, grazing as the men circled them. I watched as two cowboys cornered a calf and roped it. A third man came up and held the calf down—

“Gosh, you are really pretty.”

I jumped, letting out a slight yelp. I spun, hand on my chest, only to find my dark cowboy’s son sitting on the bar.

Had he been there the whole time?

Jesus, hedidlook like his father.

He had dark hair, short but messy, and gray eyes. They weren’t quite as intense as his father’s eyes, but smoke lingered in them. He was dressed in a white T-shirt. I couldn’t see the lower have of his body but no doubt, he was wearing jeans. TheHarry Potterbook I spotted on the couch the other night was in front of him, laying open on the counter.

He was nearly finished.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. Then, I realized I was staring at him, no doubt freaking him out.

I shook my head. “It’s alright. I didn’t see you when I came in,” I answered.

“You have a nice voice, too,” he said as he looked back down to his book. I looked around and glanced back out the window.

“Is your father around?”

Without looking up from the book, the boy answered, “He’ll be back around nine for breakfast. He told me to tell you’re welcome to some coffee.” He lifted his arm and pointed to the coffee maker in the corner.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Sure thing, ma’am,” he said, turning the page.

I went up to the coffee make to find a clean mug sitting beside it. I poured myself a cup and scanned the countertop for sugar.

“Creamer is in the fridge on the right and the sugar is in the cabinet above. Dad drinks his coffee with just a little bit of creamer, so he doesn’t keep sugar on the counter,” the boy explained.

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