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“Don’t worry about it. Once you’re back to a hundred percent, you can swing by, and we’ll talk.”
“Aren’t you leaving soon?”
Usually, I would be. This is the longest I’ve stayed in Oak Grove since I was Jamie’s age. “No,” I answer. “I’m sticking around awhile.”
“Oh, wow. That’s awesome.”
I smile. “Glad you think so.”
Jamie looks away. “Always thought I’d get to see a little more of the world. Nice to know this place is worth coming back to.”
I ignore the funny twinge in my chest. For a long time, I didn’t think that. And even now, my decision to stay here has little to do with Oak Grove itself. “What’s the verdict on the arm?”
“Dunno yet. My mom’s driving me to see a specialist. Doc said it’s a bad sprain and to avoid using it. If I can’t play for more than a few weeks, my scholarship chances just go to shit.”
Jamie could have easily called to let me know about his arm. He’s here for reassurance, I realize, and I’m not sure I have any great advice to offer him.
“Don’t think like that, Jamie. It’s not broken; you’ll be back before you know it.”
“Even if Icanplay this season, there are no guarantees.”
The thud of the screen door, which I still haven’t fixed, slamming closed has me glancing toward the farmhouse and squinting at the flash of red that appears.
“That’s true with anything.” I refocus on Jamie. “And you might be surprised by what life has in store for you. Sometimes, when you least expect it, exactly what you need will come along.”
“I can’t sing, man.”
I laugh.
He glances at the house, brows raised. “She your girlfriend now?”
“I don’t have one. Now, get outta here.”
Jamie rolls his eyes but listens, climbing back into his mom’s SUV and leaving me to fiddle with the baling attachment, which is what I was doing when Hudson called.
Once I’m confident the hitch is secure, I head for the house. If Piper is up, that means the coffee is brewed, and I had a shitty night’s sleep.
I tossed and turned, alternating between wondering what to say to Bailey when she comes back to the ranch on Monday for a second visit and wishing that Piper were in my bed instead of on the other side of the wall.
Since our conversation yesterday morning, neither of us has mentioned what happened after the fair. Which would be fine—great and uncomplicated even—except I can’t stop fucking thinking about it.
She’s leaving any day now.
I’m in the midst of upending what’s been my life for the past decade.
Considering calling what happened between us anything more than sex is a really bad idea. But the temptation is there, especially when I climb the front porch steps to find Piper sitting on the porch swing in what’s become her daily routine, bare feet propped on the railing and tangled hair suggesting she might have slept as poorly as I did.
“Hey,” she says.
“Morning.”
“You’re down a worker?”
“Sort of.”
Truthfully, the full-time staff handles all the essential operations, like feeding the calves and milking the cows. My guess is, John hired the high school and college guys who rotate through here in the summers because he knew they needed the money and he liked the company.
“It’s a sprain. Should heal fast.”
