Page 86 of For Fillies and Monsters

I can feel his chest quivering against my own, his heart racing wildly like an animal on the run in his chest. I stare at him, lost to the hold his words have on me—the hold he has on me—feeling both more alight with anger and calmed with comfort. I crave having someone to see me the way Gus portrays he does, the way I want him to. But it’s too good, and I know all things good disappear.

How do I get past that? How do I crawl out from behind my wall of fear? With deflection, because that’s the only thing I can think to do.

“Wait, you’d start a fire?” I’m teasing, my tone forced into a lightness I don’t feel, but his face does not crack from its murderous mask.

“I’d do worse if you asked me to,” he whispers, his face now only inches away from my own.

“I just… Why?” I don’t know why I ask, but these feelings for him, they’re becoming too loud to ignore—too painful to push down. I want to believe, but what if I get hurt worse? I won’t survive being left completely alone again.

“Go call the police, Stetson. I have a fence to fix.” He doesn’t give me a second to object before he strides back to the barn to go fix one of the many jagged, painful holesin my life.

I roll my eyes, ending what I knew would be a pointless phone call. After I explained my situation, and then who I was, I got a very polite, yet firm, “We will look into it, ma’am.” And then they ushered me off the line because another call was coming through, demanding their attention.

What a fucking waste of time.

Before the officer ended the conversation, he proceeded to ask questions like, “Did you misplace them,” and “Why would you think it’s cattle rustlers? We don’t get those here.”

He isn’t going to help me, he’d all but said as much. So, I’m back to solving this on my own.

“Anything?” Gus asks, his voice startling me.

Okay, maybe not completely alone, if I get over myself. But how can I trust someone I don’t completely know?

I shake my head.

He sighs, the sound closer to a wheeze than anything, and then leans against the counter. “I temporarily got the hole patched. I need to go to town and get better supplies to fix it tomorrow. But it’s up, at least, if nothing else, it will keep that old geezer from bitching at you.”

“Thank you.” My voice is deflated and frail, and I hate how weak I feel.

“You want to tell me what he said?” he asks, standing up straighter.

I shrug. “He’s going to look into it.” I don’t want to tell him what else he said, because I don’t have the mental capacity to support him if he goes off the handle again. I never know what will trigger him, what will set him off. I am faintly aware that italways has something to do with me though—or rather, someone doing or saying something to me.

It’s crazy, and I still don’t understand it about myself, but even as fucked up as that revelation is, it also makes me feel fuzzy inside.

“Hmmm.” The sound sends a wave of goosebumps rippling over my skin.

“What?” I grind out.

“Quit taking people’s shit, Stetson. You deserve better.”

I feel like a caged animal, backed into a corner. Why? Why when someone fights for me, wants better for me, I lash out? Why do I refuse to accept that someone might truly care about me? I exhale loudly.I know why.

And then the phone rings, saving me from falling apart completely.

I don’t look at the caller ID, my eyes too glued to the dark ones in front of me as I answer. “Hello?”

“Wow, she does take a break from whoring and ruining cattle ranches to answer her phone.” The words ricochet through me, my barely restrained collapse preparing to detonate. I slap my hand onto the counter.

“How dare you call me to say such a stupid thing. I have never done anything to you. I have never said or done anything to warrant such foul behavior. You’re an adult, Craig. Why don’t you fucking act like it?”

Gus steps toward me, his brows pushing together in concern, and I hold up a finger, signaling to him that I am fine.

Even if it is a dirty fucking lie.

“Did you forget you stole what is mine? Did you forget you are the reason your father is likely dead—his hate for you driving him to drink? Did you forget you are an embarrassment, a stain on the Walker name?”

I suck in a sharp breath, holding it as each word lands like aslash across my skin, flaying me open to be feasted on by my darkest insecurities.

---