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Thunder claps loudly, following quickly behind the flashing lightning that illuminates the tree line. It’s not dark yet, but the thick clouds and heavy rain have blanketed the sky and turned everything gray.
The horses nicker and stomp, worried about the storm, so I automatically go to Arrow. He’s a whole lot easier to focus on than Sully, who makes it impossible to stay mad at him, which ticks me off, but it still doesn’t do anything to keep the walls up when it comes to him. “Goddamn you, Bishop,” I say to him but looking at Arrow.
He’s too damn nice, too genuine—both things I’m not.
I rub Arrow’s neck, make soft shushing sounds. “It’s okay, boy.”
“I’m sorry about how you lost your momma. I would have been there for you,” Sully finally breaks the silence.
But I wouldn’t have allowed that. How could I let him in and give him the power to hurt me?
Arrow calms down, pressing into my hand as I rub circles on him. The scent of hay, animal, and rain cling to the air and invade my senses.
“Horses love you. They always have. I remember being jealous watching you with them when we were kids. You were like the horse whisperer. Seems like you still are.”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard that, and honestly, it’s mostly all I want—land and horses. I love it all, the cattle and the hard workdays, but being with the horses has always been where I’m happiest.
“We understand each other,” I say softly, unsure if it’s for Sully or myself. “Especially the wild ones.” I think they sense a troubled spirit in me that matches their own. We speak a language. They know they can trust me and that what I’m doing is best for them. I haven’t found anyone who can tame me the same way.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Porter.”
I don’t want to fight with him either. I never have, which does nothing but turn me into a knot of anxiety. “We’ll put the past behind us. Pretend I’m just any old hand on the ranch and we don’t have history. I try to do that, but I look around and get so fuckin’ angry.” I slam my mouth shut, upset at myself for saying that much, for giving him that piece of me.
“I know you do, but there’s nothing we can do about it. No matter what happened over a hundred years ago, it doesn’t help to hurt yourself over it now. We can’t change the past.”
No matter what happened. I know him well enough to know he uses those words to placate me because Sully doesn’t believe the rumors. Sully is the kind of guy who does the right thing. I think that’s partly why he married Aimee. Because he would never do something he has trouble understanding that other people would—especially people in his own family. Plus, he still feels guilt over Faith’s death, leaving him as the sole heir, which is a hefty responsibility to live up to. He’ll kill himself trying, though. My family could’ve helped carry the load if the story hadn’t been chalked up to a bitter rumor.
“If it were true, Porter, I’d know it. My dad would know it, and he would never keep a secret like that.”
My muscles tighten, jaw clenched, skin hot. “If we don’t want to argue, we need to change the subject.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. So, we pretend we don’t have a past?”
“Sure do. I’m just a hand, and you’re my boss.”
Without another word, I walk out of the barn, leaving Sully there with the animals.
My clothes were already wet and heavy and just get more soaked as I jog over to the bunkhouse.
The guys acknowledge me with a wave and a hello, which I return before grabbing some things and going into the bathroom. I’ll clean up the mess I made later.
The heaviness in my bones doesn’t decrease when I get the wet clothes off, or even when I get into the shower, warm water pelting my skin. It does nothing to massage the tension out, my conversation with Sully running circles in my head.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Porter.”
I shake my head as if that will help get his voice out of it, before doing my best to push those thoughts down and bury them.
I get cleaned up, then dressed again, fingers twitching and skin feeling too tight as I scarf down my dinner with the guys.
“I’m gonna get outta here for a while,” I say to Wade, reaching for my guitar case.
“Want some company?”
I shake my head, feeling like a dick, but Wade will get it. “Nah, I’m good. Any bars around here where I can play?” While I’ve always played guitar, I didn’t start doing it in bars until I left Laurel Springs. Plus, I was too young to get into any of the bars when I was here, so I don’t know which ones have open mics.
“Yep. Buck’s Tavern is what you’re looking for. Best bar within fifty miles.”
I thank him, grab my shit, and take off. The weather’s not great for driving, but I’m too damn restless to stay put. Hell, maybe I won’t even stop at Buck’s…will just keep going. I don’t belong here anyway.
