It’s Betsy and me in this world, and yeah, I gave up a lot of things to be here for her all these years. I don’t regret it, but I’m still learning.
Betsy sits at the table, and I pull the pizza from the oven and place it on the top of the potholder Betsy has waiting on the table. The kitchen isn’t a place you’ll usually find me, but I’ve learned a few things to make sure we don’t starve. I take a seat at the table beside her and pass her a slice.
“We need a woman around here, someone to teach you how to cook.” I glance up, startled by her statement because my torturous mind brings up visions of Eloise. The woman never left my thoughts for long, and now that she’s back in town, it’s harder than ever to keep her out of there.
“What’s wrong with my dinner? And hey, I brought you home some leftovers from Mallory the other night.”
“Right, and Mallory’s cold leftovers taste better than this.” Betsy lifts the pizza and exposes the dark crust underneath.
“Whatever,” I say, but I can’t help shaking my head at her or keeping the smile off my face with the sound of her laughter filling the kitchen.
I take a gloved hand and wipe the sweat from my brow. With Russell bed-ridden, the entire ranch operations have fallen to me. We could use another ranch hand, but I haven’t brought it up to my boss yet. It’s always been him and me running this place, and I’m not ready to replace him.
I’ll just pick up his slack. It's been a couple days since Eloise arrived, so I haven't gone to check on Russell either. Mallory keeps me updated, letting me know the two haven’t left each other’s side. They need all the time together they can get.
I lift the hay bale and focus my attention on the task rather than the pain slicing through my chest. Russell has been like a father to me. We’ve been co-workers, and friends for years and the thought of losing him has put this weight on my chest I can’t shake. When I go to talk to him, we end up talking about everything other than the big-ass elephant in the room—the future without him around.
There’s been a set of eyes on my back for a while, and I can no longer ignore them. Once I load the last hay bale, I shift around and find Eloise watching me. I can’t look away from her once she’s caught my eye.
She’s wearing another delicate floral dress, but this time she’s got a jean jacket on. Her hair is tumbling down her shoulders—the sunlight reflecting off her soft skin. What surprises me the most is the black strap around her neck and the camera blocking her face.
She’s more gorgeous than my memory gave her credit for.
I take my hat off and push a hand through my hair. Her finger presses down. I put my cap on and walk toward her. Her finger presses the button again. I can’t help but smirk.
“What are you doin’?” I ask.
The camera drops—the blush spreading across her cheeks. “Dad wants some pictures. He asked me to take some for him to hang up in the house.”
“I doubt he wants the ones you were just takin’.” I walk closer—close enough the subtle hint of wildflowers, mixed with her, reaches my nose.
“I’ll delete them, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask your permission.” The words tumble out of her mouth as her shaking hands bring the camera up between us. She shouldn’t be this nervous with me.
“Don’t worry, I was only playin,” I reassure. At one time, I was the center of her photography, her world, just like she was the center of mine. She captured so many moments of us together that summer lost in each other’s arms. The memories of her and I together at the lake—her head tilted back laughing—my arms around her as she snapped pictures—nearly brings me to my knees. Everything from our summer together rushes through me. I thought if I pushed those memories far enough away, they wouldn’t come back. I was wrong.
Eloise clears her throat. She’s looking at the screen, her thumb spinning the scroll wheel of her camera over and over. I stand close and invade her space. She keeps scrolling. The smell of her perfume blends perfectly with the mountain air.
“Follow me,” I say.
She looks up, her breath catching. I reach my hand out to grab her wrist, the cold metal of the bracelet touching my fingertips when I do, drawing my eyes to her delicate skin. Her other hand comes up to cover the metal wristlet, but it’s too late—I see it. I gave it to her the night before she said she was leaving Montana. The moment I knew she was mine. She still wears something that reminds her of me even after I said I didn’t love her. Fuck.
Back then, everything was simple. I was young and naïve. Like life always does, it gave me a taste of the perfect, of everything I wanted, then ripped it from beneath my feet.
I lead Eloise away from the back porch and toward the stables. Despite being raised on a ranch, she doesn’t love the horses, but she never minded when saddled up with me.
“Maverick, no, it’s been years, and I don’t think I’m prepared to ride.”
The side of my mouth rises. “Don’t worry, I remember. That’s why you’ll be ridin’ with me.”
“I’m not dressed for riding,” she tells me, “I have my camera, and I don’t want to drop it. It’s been years since I’ve ridden, and Riddick was always a tough stallion—don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”
I laugh. “Well, do you want to grab the photos your father wants? If so, you’ll have to do this.”
“Fine,” she says, then goes over to run her hand down Riddick’s dark brown mane. He’s been mine since the first time I showed up on this ranch, and Russell had me work with training him. I was troubled back then. My father had just left us, and my mother was non-existent by that point. Training Riddick with Russell was what gave me purpose.
We saddle up. I lose my thoughts to summers of stealing kisses and moonlight escapes. I settle behind Eloise and wrap my arm around her waist. She stiffens for a moment, but melts into my body with a squirm, settling her soft body against my chest.
There’s a piece of her that still remembers she’s mine and how well we fit together when we connect. I shouldn’t have those thoughts, but I’ll never forget how good she feels in my arms. I spur Riddick forward and set a path toward the edge of the property.
I reach the edge of the cliff which stretches toward my favorite view, and we climb down. I’m holding onto Riddick’s reins as Eloise lifts the camera to her face and snaps a photo of the sun lowering behind the snow-capped mountains in the distance. I shove a hand into my pocket, still holding onto the reins, and wait while she does her thing, proud of the scene I’ve found for her.
When we were younger, there wasn’t a place that Eloise would go without that camera in her hands. The camera was an extension of her back then. When I found out she wasn’t doing photography anymore, I felt like she gave up a part of herself. Seeing her with a camera, doing what she loves—it’s amazing.
“How’s Betsy?” Eloise asks.
I glance away from the setting sun, my gaze landing on her. Eloise lowers the camera and watches me.
“She’s doing great. She’s fifteen now if you can believe it.”
“I can’t.” Eloise lifts the camera again and looks through the viewfinder. “How’s your mom?” She nibbles on her lower lip when she asks that question. She lowers the camera when I take too long to respond.