Page 101 of For Fillies and Monsters

“Mother,” Faith hisses, her face flaming pink. I shoot her a weak smile, shaking my head, willing her to see it’s okay. If I know one thing about this world, it is the danger ofupsettinga parent like this woman. Faith’s shoulders fold.

“Stand up straight. You look so ugly when you hump over like that.”

I want to slap the bitch.

Before I can shift, the haughty man and woman stalk away, Faith scurrying after them, turning around only to offer an apologetic smile.

“That was so fucked up,” I huff, slumping back into the chair.

“Everyone has their demons,” Gus offers solemnly. I nod—there are no truer words.

FORTY-THREE

AUGUSTUS

July 21st, 2024

Stetson still hasn’t toldme she loves me.

I twist another wire, the sagging fence standing just a little taller with the new post fully in place. Looking down the line, I grumble, “Only seventy-five to go.”

And that’s if I’m lucky.

I’m a patient man—ten years in the shadows is proof of that—but I’m also desperate. I didn’t get the girl because I won her heart, or conventionally courted her into a comfortable relationship. Everything aboutusis uncomfortable. It’s fire and ice, electricity and water, pain and pleasure.

I slam another pole into the ground, the shitty soil resistant against my intrusion, and I huff. Even as sweat courses down my back like a whore in church, I wouldn’t trade this work for anything. I’mwhereI’m supposed to be, withwhoI’m supposed to be with, for the first timeever. I line up the pole driver and slam down again, the hit sending reverberations through my muscles.

I got the girl because I stole her. I stole her heart, mind, and soul. I infected her the way she infected me. I burned beneathher skin, the way she burned beneath mine. We don’t share a kind, gentle, sweet love, because I am none of those things.

I. Am. Desperate. Unhinged. Feral.

Ineedto hear those three little words leave her perfect lips, or I just might die.

I don’t deserve her; no one fucking does. But that will never stop me from claiming her in every way one can in this world or the next. I will burn down the gates of Heaven or Hell to be with her; I will even break through her icy walls to be with her.

We’re not justin love—we are written in the stars, sand, and everywhere in between.

That’s why I will work my ass off every minute of every day. Not because I’m afraid of losing her—I’ll chase her down until the end of time. But because she deserves it. She deserves a prince, even if she is stuck with the beast.

I wipe a clammy forearm across my sweat-slicked forehead and readjust my cowboy hat. This is the last stretch of fence on the property that still needs repairing, and a feeling of pride swells in my chest. Pride for how Stetson has handled the adversity of this place. Pride for how I’ve been able to step up and help her. Pride for the life we are building together.

Stetson will have new, or improved, fences lining this place by fall if it’s the last thing I do. Whether she wants to buy more cattle or switch to rescue horses, I will support her—help her. She’s never had someone in her corner—until now.

We’ve gotten increasingly closer the last few months—her sassy, messy, explosive personality filling my every waking and dreaming thought. But even as we get closer, I know there is still more unspoken, beyond those three little words I’m practically crawling out of my skin to hear. I know she is wrestling with demons, how to let go of the memory of her murdered, estranged mother being one of them. I’ll get it out of her, eventually; I’m nothing if not reliably patient.

I love her. I love her more than any man should love a woman—the kind of love that consumes every cell in my body, every thought in my head. And I would cut down any obstacle that kept us apart.

She calls it toxic. I call it obsessively passionate.

The sun is lower in the sky than I originally noticed, the glow shooting orange and crimson ribbons across the pale blue. It’s beautiful, this little ranch. What is more beautiful is the grit and determination it took to keep it going. I don’t care that the place is technically Stetson’s; she can and should keep it all for herself—she deserves that.

In fact, when we get married, I’ll make sure she keeps ownership of the place.

But I will work the land and animals, right alongside Stetson, until the day I die. This is my home.

We’ve discussed me no longer getting paid, about putting that money she planned to give me back into the ranch, but she balked at the idea. It’s what I expected, but I will make her see soon enough. We aren’t married, but I will make an honest woman of her yet, and soon. I never came for the money, anyway.

I plan to get her a ring just as soon as she admits she loves me. Is it possibly too soon?Fuck no. I’ve waited nearly eleven years now to make her my wife. Waiting one more day than I have to is a torture I don’t plan on enduring. And then, once we’re married, I will help her sink every last dime back into this soil we both love—both feel at home on.

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