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There was a brief pause on the line before my father responded, his voice softer, more understanding. "Alright, sweetheart. I understand. Just remember, you're not alone in all of this. You've got Brad there and your whole family back here. We're all rooting for you.”
His words, meant to comfort, only added to the weight pressing down on my chest. "Dad, I—" But he had already shifted gears, his fatherly concern now directed towards Brad.
"Brad," he began, his tone stern but not unkind. "I know you'll take care of my little girl. She means the world to me, and I trust you to keep her safe."
"I promise, Mr. Thompson," Brad's response was immediate, his voice radiating an unwavering resolve that I found both comforting and terrifying. "I'll do everything within my power to ensure Courtney's safety."
After a few more words of fatherly advice and reassurances, we ended the call. A heavy silence settled over us, the echo of my father's words lingering like an uninvited guest.
Brad and I went through our nightly routine in silence, our movements slow and mechanical, like two marionettes dancing to a tune we didn't quite understand. We climbed into bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast against our warm skin. Brad pulled me into his arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting reminder of his presence.
The window was open, the cool night breeze carrying with it the chorus of the outside world. The distant hooting of an owl, the rustling of leaves dancing in the wind, and the rhythmic droning of the cicadas all combined to form a natural symphony, its melody a soothing balm to our frayed nerves.
"I'm not leaving tomorrow," Brad whispered into the shell of my ear, his words soft but resolute. He held me closer as if by doing so, he could shield me from the world.
His declaration hung in the air, a beacon of comfort amidst the storm that was our lives. I turned to face him, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the contours of his chest as I pondered over his words.
Just as the tendrils of sleep started to pull me under, I found the courage to voice my fears. "Brad," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper, "I don't know how I'm going to tell my dad that I might be dropping out of school... at least for the time being."
“Not yet, Court. You don’t have to tell him yet.”
His grip around me tightened, a silent oath of unwavering support. With that, I allowed myself to drift off into the realm of sleep, our intertwined forms a testament to the bond we shared.
ChapterEight
Brad
The first lightof dawn was just starting to peek over the horizon as we pulled out of the ranch's driveway. The old Ford work truck rumbled beneath us, a steady reminder of the work-worn hands that had driven it before. In the side mirror, I caught sight of Jedediah, his tall figure illuminated by the ranch's porch light. He was waving us off, a genuine smile on his face.
"Don't worry about the truck, kids!" he had called out just before we left. "I'll take a bus to Laramie and get it once you two are done with it. Just focus on what you gotta do."
Courtney was driving us and had a confident grip on the wheel, suggesting she had driven on ranch roads many times before.
"Are you sure we shouldn't tell the others?" Courtney asked, her voice barely above the hum of the engine. She cast a quick glance my way, her brows knitted in concern. Her eyes were the same intense blue as the predawn sky, clouded with uncertainty.
"It's too risky," I said. "If Tyree knew what we were up to, it might put the Rosedale crew in danger. So, I think it's best we don't," I replied. "We don't have all the facts yet, and I don't want to cause unnecessary worry. Plus, Giuseppe has a knack for making mountains out of molehills."
At this, Courtney let out a laugh, a sound so infectious I found myself grinning. "Giuseppe?" she said, incredulous. "Are we talking about the same guy? The man who sorted out the mess we were in and set on the path to solving the Rosedale case?"
"Okay, okay," I conceded, chuckling. "Maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. But you have to admit, he's not exactly one to shy away from a dramatic moment."
"No, he's not," she agreed, her smile lingering. "But I get the feeling you're trying to downplay things, Brad. Are you sure you're not the one making molehills out of mountains?"
She gave me a pointed look, her eyes dancing with amusement. It was a fair question. I had a tendency to downplay issues to keep the peace. But this wasn't a time for half-truths.
"Maybe," I admitted, my gaze meeting hers. "But we have to stay focused, Court. And getting everyone riled up isn't going to help."
She considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, Brad," she said, her voice steady, "I trust you."
Hearing her say those words filled me with a sense of responsibility. I looked at her, her profile outlined against the slowly brightening sky, and felt a surge of admiration. She was strong, resilient, and incredibly brave. And she trusted me to help navigate this crisis. I wasn't going to let her down.
We continued down the road in companionable silence, each lost in our thoughts. The sun was starting to rise now, casting long shadows across the Wyoming landscape. I glanced at Courtney again, taking in the determined set of her jaw.
A new day was beginning, a new chapter in our lives. As we drove toward Laramie, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation. We were heading into the unknown, but we were doing it together. And somehow, that made everything seem a little less daunting.
Navigating through the heart of Laramie, we found ourselves outside a building that was all too familiar, even if it was thousands of miles from my alma mater—the co-ed dorm apartments.
As Courtney parked the old Ford, the sight of the dormitory stirred a sense of nostalgia within me. I glanced over at Courtney, who was watching me with a twinkling curiosity in her eyes.
