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Chapter Three
Slate wasn’t sure what in the heck he was doing. Whispering sweet things in a woman’s ear and holding her hand. He could admit that when Jill laid her head against his arm that he’d felt mighty fine.
He felt like perhaps he was worth something, and somehow, Jill Kyle could see it.
Slate knew he couldn’t. Nate and Ted and Dallas had told him to keep looking, because he’d eventually discover how amazing he was, but Slate only nodded while they talked. Luke hadn’t seemed to have a problem finding his role on the ranch and in his new life.
He has it easier than you, Slate thought. Luke himself had admitted that because he was still in the Residential Reentry Program, and his life was not entirely his to live yet, that his transition from prison to ranch had been easier than Slate’s.
His phone buzzed, and Slate glanced down at the armrest where he’d stowed his phone. Luke’s name sat there, the message flipping up as well, then disappearing before Slate could read it.
He used his left hand—as his right was still firmly clasped in Jill’s—to pick up his phone and swipe. His left thumb stumbled a bit, but he got the job done.
What are you doing? Are you and Jill a thing now?
Slate pulled in a breath and looked at Luke. He lifted his eyebrows so high, Slate thought they might go right off his face. He wore darkness in his expression too, and he actually frowned as if he wasn’t happy with the very idea of Slate and Jill being “a thing.”
Slate looked back at his phone, more confusion running through him. Luke knew him better than anyone on the planet. He’d heard all of Slate’s deepest, darkest secrets, his greatest fears, and what made him wish for things he never thought would happen.
Another text came in, and Luke said,I mean, it’s fine if you are. I just didn’t realize. You never said anything.
I don’t know what I’m doing. Slate pecked out the sentence one painful letter at a time. He really wasn’t very ambidextrous, and it took several long seconds before he sent the message five feet to his right.
Jill sat up and drew in a deep breath. She removed her hand from Slate’s with a quick glance at him that he didn’t meet. Relief ran through him at the same time disappointment cut into his chest.
He really had no idea what any of it meant. The ride to Dallas’s house blinked by, and before he knew it, he was getting out of the luxury SUV and turning back to help Jill. The skirt on her blue bridesmaid’s dress hitched up a little, revealing a few inches of skin above her knee.
“Oops,” she said, sliding the rest of the way out quickly and pulling it down. She flicked her eyes in his direction and looked away again.
Slate closed the door behind her, his eyes following the trail of people leading around the garage to the right, where a bunch of balloons in pink, white, blue, and yellow floated lazily above the milk can they’d been anchored to.
There was something quaint and calming about it, and Slate took a long breath that seared the inside of his nose, down his throat, and into his lugs. He coughed, and Jill laughed lightly. “Yeah, you really can’t breathe that deeply in June,” she drawled. “It’s like breathing in fire.”
“Yeah,” Slate said, his throat suddenly so dry.
“I don’t get a proper breath of air until at least November.” She kicked a smile in his direction and started walking toward the balloons. Hannah came to her side almost instantly, and the two of them struck up a conversation.
Slate watched Jill go, his mind running through all the possible scenarios that would bring her back to him.
“Come on,” Luke said, turning to call to Slate. “Don’t just stand there staring.”
That got Slate to move—and a healthy dose of heat to fill his face—and he joined Luke. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.
“You were holding her hand,” Luke practically hissed. “You’re going to talk about it.”
“It’s not a crime,” Slate said, glaring at his friend. “I’m allowed to hold a woman’s hand.”
“Yeah, but.” Luke glanced around as if there might be federal agents about to burst from behind fences and take them back to River Bay. He was definitely the most paranoid of the men in the group, and Slate usually got a rise from Luke’s rants about government conspiracies and that he’d seen a guy at the grocery store that looked just like one of their Unit Managers.
Today, though, he really didn’t want to hear what Luke was going to say next. The sidewalk along the side of the garage wasn’t very wide, and he fell back to walk behind Luke. That didn’t stop him from saying, “I didn’t even know you were staying at Hope Eternal. I only have six more weeks, and I thought we were going to go see what else the world had to offer.”
“Yeah,” Slate said, though he knew what the world had to offer. Heartache. Disappointment. Tragedy.
The same things he’d experienced before the decisions that had led to his incarceration, and the same things that existed in the world now.
Just look at Jill’s mom, he thought. She was only sixty-one and dealing with a terrible, life-threatening disease. He knew Jill’s heart ached for her mother. He knew she was disappointed her mom might not be able to see her get married or have kids. Her mother’s death would be a tragedy for Jill.
Life was hard, Slate knew that.
