Page 18 of If You Loved Me

“Exactly.”

The look on Deacon’s face told me he was sure of the decision I made and there was no reason for me to think he’d support me doing something stupid, so I let it rest. Ranger Adams was the man I wanted and if I could go against my parents and build an entire business from the ground up then there was no reason why I shouldn’t allow myself to pursue Ranger.

I settled back in the chair feeling at peace with the decision. Deacon opened the cooler and grabbed himself another beer.

“How’re you still shirtless? It’s freezing.”

“It’s in the sixties,” he deadpanned.

“Yes. Us normal folk consider that cold.”

“Compared to the Middle East desert in the middle of winter, this is nothing.”

As he leaned back, my gaze found the scar on his chest. “Are you ever going to tell me the story behind that scar?”

“Nope.” He took a long pull from his beer.

Deacon never really talked about his time in the service unless he was around Johnny. Even then, they usually just made jokes about the other branches and poked fun at one another. They never talked about the pain of it all—at least not around me. So, I respected his privacy and found comfort in knowing that I had a friend in Deacon. I knew he valued that just as much as I did and the best part was that there was no pressure to talk about things we didn’t want to. We could just be.

And so we spent the rest of the night sitting side-by-side staring up at the sky and at the rushing water below.

Chapter 8

Ranger

I’d lost myself in the subtle click of the tagger and hooves on dirt. We were a few days into tagging the new calves and Miles and I had found a stride. It felt like old times, working long days under the bright blue sky until every muscle in my body ached from the effort.

There was little to do in prison and even less if you wanted to stay out of trouble. Most of my days were spent working out, trying to stay strong, knowing that I would be coming home to some of the hardest work there was. The rest of my days were spent in the library working for pennies. But it helped pass the time and I was thankful to have a distraction on the hard days.

The months leading up to my release were some of the hardest. Every day dragged by for what felt like an eternity. I leaned on the visits with Miles and Callie Rose. On remembering what the fresh air smelled like. The quiet sounds of the main house first thing in the morning, when I was theonly one awake and had the entire world to myself. How the colors of the sunrise melded into one another. Oranges, yellows, and reds painting a striking canvas above my family’s land. My sister’s laughter and my best friend’s smile.

Every fucking day I clung onto those memories like they were the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins—the only things keeping me alive.

When shit went down, my first thought was hoping I survived long enough to be in this very moment with the dirt beneath my feet surrounded by the only place I wanted to come back to. Then I was out. No more time left to my sentence. No more days to count down to.

Freedom.

Hunger clawed at my stomach as I lifted my knee from the calf’s shoulder and watched him trot off toward the herd.

“Ready for lunch?” I asked Miles, dusting the dirt off my jeans.

“Yeah, man. I’m starving.”

We made our way to the main house where I pulled out all the fixings for turkey sandwiches, arranging them in an assembly line of sorts so Miles and I could take turns grabbing all the ingredients.

When he reached for the mustard I scowled. “Man, I don’t know how the hell you can eat that shit. It’s rank.”

He smacked the bottom of the bottle and squirted the mustard on both slices of bread. “No, you just don’t have good taste. Mustard is by far the superior condiment. Even your sister agrees.”

“What?” I glared at him. Callie Rose had never eatenmustard in my presence. She told me she hated the stuff just as much as I did.

“Yeah. While you were gone, I convinced her to try it one day on her sandwich and now she eats it all the time.”

“Wait.” I held up my hand. “You’re telling me that while I was in prison, you corrupted my baby sister and brainwashed her into liking mustard? Fucking bastard.”

He laughed before raising his mustard-laden butter knife at me and said, “I did notcorrupther. I merely showed her the error in her ways. I opened her eyes to the joy one has when they use mustard on their sandwich.”

“Oh my God.” I shook my head, feeling completely betrayed. “Just make sure you brush your teeth after you eat that foul shit. I don’t want to have to smell it all day.”

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