Page 104 of Unstable

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS are a dizzying frenzy of activity. Exhausting, but exciting. And almost never do I have time to stop and overanalyze, get sucked back in to my habitual habit of psyching myself out or let myself get even the tiniest bit scared or worried. Which is good, because deep down I’m not, so keeping my mind too busy to concoct up trouble for no reason is one less thing I have to worry about.

Together, Keaton and I took two more trailer loads to the sale barn, earning me close to twenty grand. And after a long argument where he tried to act all macho, blabbering about how he’s the man and wouldn’t take my money, then his attempt to fuck me into submission (which I pretended to protest against for…all of five minutes) and finally, me laying down the law, the final word, I deposited that money into his account, to provide my share toward our soon to be combined expenses.

We moved the cows I was keeping, about fifty head, to Keaton’s land, but as promised, I left the bulk of them, the bull, hay, and horses for the Kings.

Truth is, neither Keaton or I need the stock, or money, but it’s important to me to not only give—to the Kings and my share to Keaton—but also to keep, a small slice of my independence. And my farm. Which technically, I am keeping. Forever.

I finally find a moment to sit down, and of course, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Henley, how are you? It’s Mr. Boles.”

“I’m good, you?”

“Can’t complain. I was just calling to let you know I have the rental agreement, with all your altruistic provisions, drawn up. Please take no offense, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least say that I’d advise against a lot of them.”

“I appreciate that, you looking out for me, but I won’t be changing my mind. Shall I come by and pick them up?”

“Anytime. Go ahead and bring Keaton with you. I also have the final documents ready that will settle all matters with Mr. Watson for good. You both need to sign them. Quite big-hearted of you on those matters as well.”

“Let’s just say,” I laugh hollowly, “I’m making up for a lot of lost time where I wasn’t exactly the person I wanted to be.”

“Well, you’re doing more than a fine job. So, I’ll see you both soon?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll call when we’re coming. Just need to see when Keaton’s free.”

“Very good, I’ll have everything ready.”

I thank him and hang up, resting my head back on the couch. Everything is finally falling into place. No more Merrick and his bullshit, soon Brooke and her family will be living here on this farm and I’ll be living with Keaton.

Using every day to appreciate every day.

“Did I hear ya on the phone?” Keaton walks up behind me, rubbing my shoulders.

“Yes,” I moan. “And please don’t stop doing that, feels great. It was Mr. Boles calling. We both need to go sign the papers on the Merrick deal and pick up the contract for the Kings while we’re there. Maybe tomorrow? It’s late today and I want to get the farmhand cabin cleared out. Bri and Mike might want to use it, and I haven’t even looked inside to see how Gatlin left it.”

His hands stall and tense for only a moment, him quickly recovering, but I catch it.

“What?” I ask.

His tone plummets to a sultry timbre. “I have a better idea. Why don’t I take care of that while you go take a hot shower or bath? You’re tired and your muscles are bound up pretty tight, baby.”

“I suppose that’d work,” I sigh. “Thank you. Just make sure you box up anything personal he left, in case he comes back for it. We can put it in the shed out back.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he mumbles and clears his throat, then comes around and holds out a hand. “Don’t worry, I got it. And you have a date with…what’s it gonna be? Bath or shower?”

“Shower,” I respond automatically. As good as a long, hot bath sounds, I just don’t have it in me to brave the upstairs bathroom right now. Although I did fine with it before, for which I was quite proud of myself, I’m too weary and physically exhausted to chance those factors very easily helping me into a full breakdown if I test myself too much.

“Alright,” he tries to hide his concern, knowing the thoughts that made my decision. “Hop to it then.” He pulls me up off the couch. “I’ll go clear out the cabin, shouldn’t take me long. We’ll fix something quick for dinner when I get back.”

He leaves me at the bathroom door with a languid kiss and parting swat on the butt to propel me toward the shower.

While I bask under the hot spray, an eerie feeling comes over me out of nowhere. Not the “you’re about to be killed in the shower” kind…but more an uneasy lump suddenly forming in the pit of my stomach, warning me not to get too comfortable with being comfortable.

The wave of contentment I’ve been riding is too high, and something tells me, it’s about to crash, sending me flying onto the shore so hard, there’ll be scars.

THE NEXT MORNING, I wake in the safe haven of Keaton’s arms, but the overwhelming sense of dread remains, churning in my stomach.

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