Page 20 of Untruly With You

Laine’s hand tightens around my knee, and I hear her let out a shuddering breath.

“Losing Duke...it unraveled our family,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “My father…he blamed himself. Then he started blaming everyone else, too. And I—I was angry at everything, at the world, at myself for not being there to prevent it.”

Laine is silent for a few beats. “Sutton, what happened was not your fault.”

“Logically, that makes sense. But it doesn’t feel like that. Maybe I could have helped him after his fall. Maybe things could have been different. I think that’s why I’m so anxious about going back home. Like, if I’m back at the ranch, all those feelings of guilt will bubble back up.”

“It’s a good thing I’m excellent distraction,” Laine says. “Whenever you start to feel down, just tell me, and I’ll dosomething ridiculous to get your mind off it. I don’t know—ride a mechanical bull or something.”

I try to laugh.

She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes full of mischief. “Anything to keep your mind off the heavy stuff. Plus, I've always wanted to try one of those things.”

“Why settle for a mechanical bull when we’ll have the real thing? I have a feeling you'd conquer it with your usual enthusiasm,” I reply, the heaviness of the conversation momentarily lifted by Laine’s lightheartedness. As always.

“And you can cheer me on, just like you have been since we met.”

There's a warmth in her words that resonates within me. Despite the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future, Laine has been a bright spot in my life that I didn't expect.

10

LAINE

I probably should have focusedon doing research for my articles this week. Instead, I spent most of it listening to The Chicks, thrifting for the trip, and watching an obscene number of John Wayne movies. Unsurprisingly, there was no direct flight from New York City to Missoula, Montana, the nearest airport to West River. Instead, we flew from New York to Seattle and finally backtracked to Montana.

I’ve never been out of the New York area, so I don’t truly know what to expect from Montana. As we descend below the clouds, I understand why Sutton insisted I take the window seat. I’m glued to the glass, mesmerized by the stunning landscape unfolding beneath us. The transition from the concrete jungle of New York City to the vast expanse of Montana is almost surreal. Rolling hills, open fields, a winding river, and rugged, evergreen mountains stretch out as far as I can see, painting an impossibly beautiful scene.

“Wow,” I breathe, unable to keep my smile off my face. “I can’t believe this is real. It looks like a screensaver.”

It’s been a long travel day—we got to the airport at six this morning, and now it would be six in the evening in NewYork—but I feel more and more energized as our plane flies lower and lower.

“It’s quite the change from the city, huh?” Sutton asks, leaning over me a bit to peer out the window with me. As soon as he does, though, he retreats and closes his eyes, pushing his hands through his curls.

“You all right?” I ask, squeezing his hand.

“Thank you for being here,” he mutters. “I don’t know how I would have done this alone.”

The mountains grow closer, the very tips of their peaks dusted with snow even in early summer. The rich, earthy colors of the landscape create a tapestry that's both soothing and awe-inspiring to me.

Sutton, apparently, doesn’t feel the same. His grip on my hand tightens as the plane descends farther, and I can see a conflict playing out in his eyes. I lean closer to him, my voice gentle. “Still okay?”

He hesitates for a moment before meeting my gaze. “Yeah, it's just…a lot of memories coming back.”

I nod in understanding, remembering that this trip isn’t about me having a vacation or Sutton showing his hometown off. It's about him confronting his past, his family, and everything that comes with that.

“It’s okay, you know,” I breathe, tracing circles on the back of his hand. “You don't have to carry everything on your own. I'm here to support you, no matter what. That’s what fake girlfriends are for.”

The plane rattles a bit as we land, and Sutton exhales sharply.

“We're here,” I say, offering him a supportive smile. “A new chapter begins.”

“A new chapter,” he repeats, forcing a smile.

Sutton must be able to sense my excitement over being somewhere new, and it even seems to rub off on him a bit.When we walk outside the small, five-gate airport, we’re hit by the crisp air. It carries the scent of evergreens and wet earth. I take a deep breath, trying to imprint it into my memory. I didn’t imagine a place could smell so…clean. It’s only vaguely similar to the pine candles I’ve bought before.

We walk through the parking lot, stopping at an old, sky-blue Chevy truck.

“Sweet ride,” I say, chuckling at the size of it. It’s boxy and bulky and wouldn’t stand a chance in bumper-to-bumper New York traffic.

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