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“Oh… sorry,” she says, maybe only now realizing we’re standing shoulder to shoulder.
She offers a smile, but it’s not the one she usually wears. It’s full of worry. Now that we’ve called Jolie, it’s no longer await it out and seesituation. I have faith Jolie can comfort Romeo but I don’t like seeing Molly like this. So I try to distract her.
“How did you end up in New Mexico?”
She whips her head around to gaze at me like she’s surprised I just spoke. She probably is. On some level,Iam.
“My younger sister got into college here. So I moved, too. Well, actually it’s hard to know which way around it was. I always wanted to move out west and work on a ranch. And she always wanted to go to college. It worked out for us both.”
“Didyougo to college?”
“Me?” She says it like I just asked her if pigs fly. “No. I love reading but somehow I was never good at school.”
She seems to be degrading herself, and I hate that for her.
“Well, you’re highly intelligent. I’m sure if you really wanted it, you could have.”
She offers me a grateful smile, so beautiful it makes me greedy for another.
“That’s nice of you, but I really don’t think I could have.” She shrugs.
“I didn’t go to college either,” I offer.
“Really? I thought education was a Hunter thing.”
“Yeah? Suppose it is, but I was a fuck-up in high school.” Or maybe I was fucked up. Either way, I was lucky to graduate.
“Is that when you started getting all those tattoos?” She bumps into my side, trying to lighten the mood.
It almost makes me smile wondering how long she was looking at them before she woke me up. “A few of them were in high school, before my mom found out who was doing them for her under-age son. That had me waiting a couple years for more.”
Molly’s cheeks grow round, and a ghost of her usual bubbly self is there again. “I can’t even imagine being reamed by Joy Hunter. Jolie tells me she’s fierce.”
I blow air out of my nose. “Yeah. It’s not fun. I have plenty of experience.”
Molly considers me for a moment, like she’s searching for a reason why I’m not like my siblings and wants to ask me. I’m not like them. Logan is a pro-hockey player. Colt is classy cowboy CEO material, and Jolie is a vet. I was born on the ranch. I work on the ranch. And I’ll die on the ranch. But I’m not pursuing this life by default. Often, when the others complain about the strains of their work lives, I know this career is more me than theirs are them. This isn’t a job. It’s an identity.
The question in Molly’s face disappears even though she never asked it. Maybe she gets me. After all, she chose this life over any other she could have had, too.
Just then, my phone beeps with a message from Jolie that she’ll be here in fifteen minutes, and even though I’m relieved for Romeo, I don’t really want to leave the stall.
But in what feels a lot faster than quarter of an hour, Jolie arrives with her vet van and equipment like she said she would. She listens to his gut with a stethoscope. She takes his temperature. She examines Romeo with all her expertise while Molly and I stand flush with each other, and I don’t know about Molly, but I’m not really watching Jolie.
Inappropriate as it is, I’m thinking about how I might get her down in a stall another night.
When Jolie finishes with Romeo, she says, “All right guys, nothing too crazy going on here. But you two go on and rest. I’ll stay.”
“Nah. I’ll stay,” I offer.
“No. Go. You’ll only have to call me again if symptoms don’t subside.” She pats his side gently. “I couldn’t sleep either thinking of him. Something special about this one, eh?”
I agree. Monica Dane obviously thought so. Molly does. Guess Romeo lives up to his name.
“Go on. Seriously. If I can’t handle it, I’ll text you, Dash.”
“Thanks,” Molly says, walking out of the stall.
We make our way upstairs, and I open the door to the apartment for Molly. She steps inside and flicks on the dimmer lights, quickly quieting the bright light, turning it down to a place we can both handle at this time of night.
