Page 63 of Unstable

I seek out a table with a line and when it comes to my turn, I swallow my pride and do the sensible thing—I ask questions. Only way to learn.

At first, the older man running things gives me a dubious look, practically saying, “You’re out of your league, little girl,” but I smooze him with over-the-top gratitude and maybe some charm, thawing him out pretty quickly.

And four hours later—I’ve sold twelve steers for a sum of over ten grand!

Ten grand!

Gatlin laughs at my giddy shock as we load up to go home, me talking a mile a minute of my plans to attend a few more sales and the payments I can make with the money I just earned.

When we cross into Goodman, the last town before home, my adrenaline rush speaks for me…words I never thought I’d utter. “Whadda ya say I buy ya a beer? For all your help today?”

“You’re sure? You up for going into a rowdy bar?” He double checks.

“Hell yeah! I’m pumped up. Besides, we’re a town over, slim chance of seeing anyone I know. So you in?”

“I’m in,” he laughs.

I pull into the lot of a place called “Saddle Up,” and park off to the side because of the trailer. “Do not let me have more than one. I gotta drive.”

“If you know one’s your limit, only have one, Henley.”

“Can you not just say ‘You got it?’” I give him a hard time—everything he says more “a lesson.”

“I could, but I’m not big on empty talk.”

“Okay, you win. Come on.”

We walk in, taking a minute to survey the situation. It seems okay, not too seedy or a blatantly open meat market, so I suggest we head for the bar. I place our order for two drafts and turn while I wait, scanning the area for an open table.

I don’t see one of those…but I catch an eyeful of something else that has my blood running cold through my veins and a voice in my head screaming at me that I’m a fucking fool!

Stupid, Henley, you knew better!!

“Henley,” Gatlin touches my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s exactly as it should be, like it always is, and I knew it would be! I’m an idiot,” I explain the expected reality in an artic calmness.

He follows my stare and sighs, running a hand down his face. “Shit,” he whistles. “Listen, maybe there’s a good explanation.”

“You’re right, there’s a perfect explanation. A not at all surprising explanation,” I start, but the bartender interrupts me with our drinks. I toss him a twenty, tell him to keep the change and down half my mug in one long gulp. Never taking my eyes off him, who still hasn’t noticed me, and won’t, far too engrossed in his current company.

“Keaton Fucking Cash,” I go on, “as he has said himself, is a healthy, twenty-seven-year old man who enjoys a quick distraction. That girl he’s sitting with? That’s Addison, the secretary of my ex-boyfriend, who cheated on me countless times. She looks like an ideal distraction from the closed-off head case that is me. There you go, your good explanation.”

I kill the rest of my beer and head for the door. “Let’s go,” I bark.

Gatlin rushes behind me. “Henley, you want me to drive?”

“Why would I? I’m not drunk.”

“But you’re upset.”

“Nope, not that either. Just disappointed in myself.” I climb in the truck and start it, belting out a flippant laugh. “You wanna know what’s really pathetic? I was actually wondering earlier why I haven’t heard from him all day. Thinking maybe he was up to another surprise for me. And I was excited to tell him how well the sale went. That’s funny shit, right?”

“Um…no…not at all. Henley, maybe—”

“Don’t,” I seethe. “Don’t talk to me with pity or offer up any lame scenarios like I’m stupid. Keaton’s been good to me and we had no commitment, by my choice, so technically, he did nothing wrong. I did. I let my guard down, read more into things than I should’ve. Keaton feels sorry for me and wants to help, but he also wants to get laid. It’s no big deal. Another lesson learned. The hard way. That’s sorta my thing. I only learn things too late, in the hardest way possible.”

“So what are you gonna do?” He talks quietly, no doubt scared of my reactions at this point and maybe his life—I am driving, pulling a trailer, and having a complete mental overhaul all at the same time.

“Not a God damn thing. Oh, except for go back to sleeping on the couch. And return a belt buckle. Unless you want it?”

“Thank you, but no. You bought it for him. Maybe you should talk to him, Henley. I don’t want to make you mad, but think about it. Isn’t your biggest regret in life waiting too long to talk to people about how you feel?”

I glance over and give him a glare that could set fire to kindling. “Do you want to walk the rest of the way home?”

“I can. Needed to be said,” he retorts quickly with no hint of regret.

“Oh, look, we’re home!” I chirp sarcastically as I turn into the driveway. “Thank you for your help today, really, but talking time is over now.”

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