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A sadness I used to have before I made up my mind.
A sadness I associate with loss.
I’ve seen it on my father’s face.
His gruff voice breaks the silence. “You’re getting burned,” he says, and drops his cowboy hat on my head.
In this moment, I feel branded.
My heart stalls in my chest.
Can a heart overheat?
Can a heartbeat be wired for one man?
I think these are questions I better learn to answer pretty damn fast.
“What was your sunflower?” Max asks. His cat, Pepper, meows over the line.
“I went on a hike today.”
Barefoot, I pad across the cool hardwood. After the hike, Charlie dropped me at the cottage. Now it’s time to get to work. I need to put together a social media calendar and call Molly, my connection at the luxury tourism agency. By leveraging her influencers, she can increase the ranch’s exposure. Maybe send some on a tour, which would be amazing.
Understanding why Charlie loves the ranch, seeing its beauty, has me wanting to fight even harder for it. I feel a personal stake in helping Charlie Montgomery and his brothers save this land that means so much to them.
“Rubes. A hike?”
The scolding snap in Max’s voice has me rolling my eyes. “I can hike, idiot. I went slow and steady and only barely fell off a mountain.”
He doesn’t laugh. “Any flutters?”
“No,” I lie, and refuse to feel guilty. Yesterday’s episode barely counts. No loss of consciousness, no heart rate over 180. Even today’s hike left me only slightly winded.
I’m fine. Perfectly fine.
“You feeling okay?”
I sigh and walk out of the house to stand on the small porch. The sun’s rays bend, shades of pink and purple sweeping across the field. A group of laughing guests trek across the gravel road, fishing poles in hand.
“I’m great, Max. Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about the mountains I’ve seen. The horses I’ve petted. They feel like velvet, you know.”
“You sound happy,” he admits grudgingly.
“I am happy.”
Really happy, I think when I spy Charlie through the large front window of his cabin.
“As long as you’re safe, I won’t worry.”
“Good. How’s Dad?”
“If you picked up the phone, you’d know.”
“I know,” I whisper, guilt flooding me. As much as I miss my father, miss our nightly routine of buttered saltines, homemade chicken noodle soup and reality TV, miss my garden full of foxglove and lavender, I absolutely cannot talk to him. The grief in his voice will bring me home. Texts are all I can do right now.
And even that hurts.
“We miss you, Rubes.” Max’s voice crackles over the line. “Get whatever it is out of your system, then come home.”
