A brisk knock rattled the front door, shaking me from my contemplation. It was a knock I knew well.
Tricia didn’t wait for an invite before she barged into the cabin.
“Honey, I’m home!”
“I see that.” I didn’t have the energy to object or try to pretend like I wasn’t thinking about getting hammered. I didn’t care if she ranted and raved and called me every name under the sun.
“I thought I’d find you three sheets to the wind by now.” She glanced at my open laptop. “You read enough crap yet?”
I shook my head.
She sat down opposite me and steepled her fingers. “You have to stop punishing yourself. You know none of that stuff is true.”
“I can’t help it,” I admitted. “I like how it makes me feel.”
“You like feeling miserable? Being miserable?” She reached across the table and slammed my laptop shut. “You’ve replaced one addiction with another.” She picked up the bottle by the neck. “You gonna drink this?”
“Thinking about it.”
“Tell the truth, I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.”
I licked my cracked lips. “Are you going to pour it down the sink?”
“Nope. You’re a big girl. You wanna drink, drink.” She shrugged, then sniffed. “Not my problem.”
I gave her an incredulous look. “You’re saying I should drink it?”
“Don’t go twisting my words.” She pulled the top off, then poured two fingers into the waiting glass. “Smell that.” She held the glass up to my nose and twirled it around. “Imagine how good it’ll smell and taste later when you’re face down on the porcelain throne.”
Cinnamon wafted beneath my nose, and my stomach roiled. I pushed her hand away. “Stop. I’m going to throw up.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said and took a sip, then scrunched up her face. “Woo-eee. Tastes like paint stripper mixed with Red Hots. How’d you ever drink this shit?”
“Very easily and with great pleasure,” I said and grimaced. “Stop with the reverse psychology. I’m not in the mood.”
“You think I’m in the mood? I get back here and find my nephew all packed up and about to go back to the goddamn rodeo.”
“He has his reasons,” I said, my voice flat and emotionless.
She drummed her fingertips against the table. “I guess he does, but he’s not ready. He hasn’t allowed himself to grieve his daddy’s passing properly. He hasn’t given himself enough time to heal from the last fall. Been so hellbent on winning that goddamn buckle, he can’t see or think straight.”
“His decision. The rodeo is where he belongs.”
“You don’t care at all?”
“Not one bit.”
“Seems like you got some of your facts all tangled up there.” She leaned back in her chair and regarded me carefully. “But I guess since it’s your lie, you can tell it any way you want to.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Damn, you could make a preacher cuss.” She nodded toward the bottle, then shot me a lidded look. “Is this staying here or coming with me?”
The devil and angel on my shoulders got on their knees, both begging me to do the right thing. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind about what the right thing was. No matter how shitty things were in my life, I wouldn’t go down the wrong road ever again.
“Take it. See if any of the ranch hands want it.” The angel praised Jesus while the devil threw a tantrum.
“I’ll use it to kill weeds.” Tricia recapped the bottle then picked it up. “Should I take your laptop and phone, too?”
“My phone’s at the bottom of an embankment. I just ordered a replacement. Thank God for backups. And I need my laptop if I’m going to start looking for a new place to live.”
“No, ma’am. Not going to happen.” She stood and slammed the bottle against the tabletop. “Whenever this all dies down, you can go wherever the hell you like, but for now, you’re staying put. Don’t you go digging up more snakes than you can kill, Montana.”
I buried my head in my hands. “Why do you care? You don’t even like me all that much.”
“Look at me,” she demanded.
I released my head and looked up.
“I’m gonna say this, and I’m never going to repeat it. I’m proud of you. If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be just like you. You have more guts than any man I know.”
“Tricia, I...” Tears filled my eyes, and I didn’t try to stop them from falling.
“Don’t you go getting all sappy on me, you hear?”
I stood and went around to her side of the table, where I threw my arms around her. “Thank you for being there for me. For not giving up.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.” She patted my back then stepped away, holding me at arm’s length. “Promise me you’ll stay awhile longer.”
I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “Promise.”
Later that night, sleep refused to come, so I did what brought me most comfort—I Googled the shit out of myself and then Dylan. The PBR had added his name to the roster. He was back in his world. A world that didn’t include paranoid singers or stalking paparazzi.
Sadness clutched my heart, and my tears came before I could stop them. I gripped my pillow and struggled to catch my breath.
If this was what love felt like, I wanted no part of it because it felt like I was shattering into a million little pieces.
Dylan
Two weeks had passed since I’d left the ranch. I hadn’t heard from Montana, and I hadn’t reached out to her. Hadn’t slept much and hadn’t felt much like eating either.
By the time I’d gotten to Tulsa, it was too late
