Page 87 of Live, Ranch, Love

He steeples his fingers in front of him, just watching me. There’s never anything forceful about his energy, never vying for attention, always just effortlessly bringing a sense of calm and quiet to his surroundings. My mind welcomes it with everything spinning around.

I didn’t know where to go.

All I knew once I made it into the house, leaving Wyatt behind, was that I couldn’t stay on the ranch. Not with him across the road. Not with Jake nearby. I waited until I watched Holly’s car disappear in the distance and then I pegged it into my own truck, speeding off up the road towards Willow Ridge.

I just needed somewhere to hide. Somewhere to work through all the emotions racking my body, making my heart race and blood pump faster than it has in a long time. Not like the steady beat that’s graced my days on Sunset Ranch, any spike soon soothed by the fiery sunset pouring between the mountains, or the summer breeze through the luscious pastures. Or the gentle, stable touch from Wyatt.

Truthfully, I’m not even here because I’m upset with Wyatt. I should trust him enough to know that he wouldn’t have kissed Holly. Whatever reaction he had to the kiss seemed genuine, and I can’t pretend how grateful I was that he chased after me, even if I only pushed him away in response.

I’m pissed off at myself.

For letting this affect me so much. For immediately questioning how much I meant to him, trying to convince myself that I’d been stupid enough to think that a couple of months by my side was worth more than years with Holly. I’m angry that was my automatic response. That I didn’t even try to bolster myself like I would’ve had this been any other situation.

Because over the last few weeks, I’ve gotten so much better at believing in my own strength again. I felt worthy of Wyatt’s time. I felt deserving of my influencer status, of writing a book about my experience with the ranch and the retreat.

I felt like me again.

But why does this make that all come crashing down?

“I have to drive later,” I admit, rubbing my thumb along the rim of the glass.

Duke might not be offering to talk, but I can feel it in the way his dark eyes regard me, in the way he patiently waits. “It’s barely even got a shot of vodka in it, you’ll be fine. Besides, it was your Auntie Grace’s favourite drink.”

My eyes shoot up at that. “You knew Grace?”

Duke scoffs. “Everyone knows everyone in Willow Ridge.”

“Right.” How long will it be before word gets around that Wyatt’s fake girlfriend is sat in a bar on her own, mascara probably running down her cheeks?

“But yeah,” Duke adds, clearing his throat. “She used to come in every Thursday evening for one drink only. Would sit in the corner booth over there,” he nods to it, “and just people watch. Pretty certain she knew my grandfather when he owned this place.”

I wonder why I never knew she came here. Even though she wasn’t a big fan of the rules, I suppose I was always too young to drink when I visited, so I don’t even know if I’d have been allowed in. I wonder if she ever sat in here when the guys and Cherry were about, and if she ever imagined me being a part of their close-knit group. I wonder if she knew I’d find my way here alone one day, whether all the motivational things she’d tell me were meant for this moment.

The drink reminds me of a sunset, the liquid almost blood orange at the bottom, fading into a pale amber as it rises. One sip makes my mouth sparkle, the drink as sweet and glittering as dreams.

Of course this was Auntie Grace’s favourite.

“Have you told him I’m here?” I ask Duke.

He shrugs, reminding me far too much of Wyatt. “No, but if he keeps blowing up my phone, I’m gonna be forced to. Normally our conversations consist of thumbs up and one word answers, so it’s freaking me out to see so many messages.”

The chuckle escapes out of me before I can stop it. One word answers, yeah, sounds just like the Wyatt Hensley I first met.

Duke’s eyes brighten when I smile back. “So, if there’s any way you could maybe make him stop, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I walked in on him and Holly kissing,” I blurt out, noting the way Duke flinches at my confession.

“She kissed him,” he insists.

“That’s what he said.”

“Then that’s the truth. There’s no doubt about it.” Every word Duke says holds permanence, his tone becoming intensely serious.

“But how do you know?”

“Because I know Wyatt. He wouldn’t do that. And unless he’s given you a reason to not trust him, then you should believe that he wouldn’t either.” Duke’s shoulders rise, his chest broadening as he sits up straighter, ready to fight me on this. A fierce loyalty blazes in his adamance. A loyalty that I should be trusting blindly myself, just like Auntie Grace would’ve told me. Like Wyatt probably would too.

“But she’s Holly. The girl he’s been heartbroken over.”

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