“I’ve got to go.”
“The best thing you can do is come home.”
“I said I’d be there in time.”
“Even better, you can distance yourself from her now so you hurt her less then.”
I end the call without saying goodbye.
My sister’s already said enough.
And fuck if ninety percent of it wasn’t true.
44
TATE
The days trudge on.
Hours upon hours of our normal duties but then the added responsibility of keeping four men occupied and out of trouble as the boredom of a small town hits the Steely crew here at Knox Ranch.
Last night, tires crunched down the driveway and headlights were flicked off as not to light up my house at well past two in the morning.
With a five in the morning start time, that isn’t a whole hell of a lot of sleep.
Maybe it’s a good thing that Jack was occupied last night. Maybe the distance will help me to detach myself some from him and the inevitable that is starting to weigh heavier and heavier every time I see him. Sadness has started to creep in with every slash across the calendar day as it passes because each new mark marches us closer to him leaving.
The thoughts and emotions that follow soon after are all-consuming, and I hate it. Hate them.
At the same time, I almost feel as if he’s avoiding me. He has gone from finding ways to pull me into the tack room and steal a kiss to going out of his way not to find the two of us in those situations.
Then again, maybe I’m just overthinking it.
But what he said and the picture he took of me have made more than an impression. I forced myself to print the portrait and frame it. It’s the reminder of where I’ve been, what I’ve been through, and how I survived.
I force myself to focus on the grain I’m mixing instead of the inevitability of him leaving, and I manage to get two batches done before Jack’s shadow crosses in front of the open doors.
“Hey, you got a minute?” I call out.
“Not really.” His feet hesitate for a moment before he starts to walk again.
“Jack!” If my voice makes me sound desperate, it’s because I am.
This time, he stops. His head is hung down for the briefest of seconds before he nods ever so slightly and turns to face me. “What did you need, Tate?” His voice is clipped with impatience as he looks at me from behind his sunglasses, and it bugs me that I can’t see his eyes.
“Nothing . . . I just—we haven’t talked much, and I . . . never mind.”
“I’ve been busy.” Impatience rings in his voice. “What did you need?”
“Nothing. I guess I wanted to make sure we were okay, is all.”
“Perfectly fine. Anything else?”
I stare at him, tears burning in my eyes.
Blame it on PMS or on exhaustion, it doesn’t really matter. “Nope. Not a thing.” I retreat a step before turning on my heel and heading back into the stable to finish what I was doing, hating how stupid and insecure I feel.
“Christ.” I hear him hiss the word and then the crunch of his boots on the gravel as he follows me inside. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s just been a rough couple of days.”
“What happened?” My mind fires to everything on the ranch that could go wrong, which is a long, long list.
“Just shit back home.” He glances my way, and of course, now I feel like a complete ass. I’ve leaned on him, but I don’t know that I’ve ever really let him lean on me. I don’t think I’m a selfish person, but assuming that his distance was because of me sure as hell makes me feel like I’m the most self-centered person on the face of the earth.
“You want to talk about it?”
He looks anywhere but at me. “No. It’s fine.”
Interesting that we had a giant fight about my not wanting to talk to him about my finances and now he’s avoiding telling me about whatever is bothering him. Pot, meet Kettle.
“Got it.” I turn back to the counter. “Sorry I bugged you.”
His sigh sounds like a curse when he emits it. His voice softens. “Don’t be that way.”
“Be what way?” I counter. “Wanting to know more about the man I’m more or less living with? I mean . . . I know you like your coffee black, your steaks medium-well, and you aren’t ashamed that you like to cuddle, but that’s about it. You had a dad you could never please so you left home, only to regret some of the reasons too late. You have a sister, who puts worry in your eyes more often than not, and a brother, who passed away and you don’t talk about.” My hands grip the edge of the counter as I struggle to control my emotions and the feeling of rejection hearing all of this awakens in me. “Is it sad that Cory probably knows more about your life off this ranch than I do?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve seen my life, right? Complicated is all I know.”
And without another word, I slam the pail down on the counter and stalk past him.
I don’t know if I’m upset or relieved that he doesn’t grab my arm to set things straight.
That he doesn’t let me in more.
45
TATE
“Grab your camera. We’re going for a walk,” Jack says when I answer the knock on my front door.
“I don’t want to.”
“Grab your camera, Tate. Or I will. Either that, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you across the field. Everyone will notice and ask questions. Your choice, Knox.” His voice isn’t warm, but it isn’t frosty either. We haven’t talked since our little tiff earlier, so I’m not surprised.
I glare at him. The last thing I want to do is obey and, yet, something urges me to believe that he’s asking more than demanding. That if I dug my heels in and refused to go, he would relent and leave me be. That’s the only thing that allows me the permission to do what I really want, which is to go with him.
Within minutes, I have my camera and Gracie and I are trailing slightly behind him. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I want to be with him.
When I actually do.
We walk across the property as the sun begins to set. Dragonflies dance around us in the warm evening air, and I can’t help but stop to snap images of their wings glistening in the light like glitter floating in the air. Jack keeps walking when I stop, Gracie bounding beside him as if she doesn’t understand the discord between us. Every once in a while, I aim the camera his way and snap a few shots.
His hand petting her head as the dandelions blow out of focus in the distance behind him.
Click.
His untucked red T-shirt against the starkness of his denim.
Click.
The strong line of his nose, the rough cut of his jaw, the hard set of his chin as he waits for me to catch up.
Click.
We walk in silence until we hit the edge of the pond. Jack takes a seat and stares at the ripple of the water as birds and more dragonflies dance across it to grab a drink.
I listen to nature’s symphony of birds chirping, trees rustling in the breeze, Gracie panting, and the hum of everything else around me. The longer I listen, the less I sense the tension between us.