Page 27 of Wild and Wrangled

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “Because he’s a good person. It’s not like he’s living there to get closer to me. He’s just doing his job.”

“So you aren’t even a little bit, like, apprehensive about this whole thing?”

“Of course I am,” I said. “My high school boyfriend basically lives in my backyard. Wouldn’t you be apprehensive? But really, I think any way I’m feeling right now has a lot more to do with me than with Dusty.”

Ada pursed her lips. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll accept that answer. For now.”

“And at the end of the day, this is about Riley. She deserves a house like that—a beautiful place to grow up.”

“Okay then.” Ada nodded. “Then that’s what she’ll get.”

It took us about twenty minutes to get to Graham’s. It was far out of town, like my parents’, on a big piece of land with million-dollar views that we never would’ve used. The house was a new build—big and white and beautiful, but it had never felt like mine. Eventually, I think Graham would have floated the idea of us moving to Jackson Hole or Park City and keeping this as a second home. But that never would have happened. He didn’t love Meadowlark, but I did.

Graham and I didn’t have a bad relationship. It just…wasn’t a relationship. Both of us were aware that it was convenient, easy, and both of us benefited from it. I liked Graham. He was nice, and there were times when I thought he was my friend, but I wasn’t in love with him, and I knew I never would be. We both decided to settle for a half life, but if it meant our parents would leave us alone, then that would be nice enough. We would both get to exist in peace, which might not sound like a lot to some people, but it was a lot for me and even more for Graham.

Graham’s parents were worse than mine, which is why I still couldn’t figure out why he didn’t show—what was worth more than the life we agreed to and wanted for each other.

I was so tangled up in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize that Ada had already turned off the car and gotten out. I scrambled out behind her. She walked—stomped, actually, thanks to the platform Docs she loves so much—up to the front door. Her shoulders were back, and her head was held high; it reminded me to hold mine high, too.

Even though my life was shit, I took a moment to be proud of my friend and how much she’d grown into herself again since I’d met her.

Maybe I could do that, too.

Ada looked back at me. “You ready?”

No. “Yes,” I said, a few steps behind her as she lifted her hand to knock on the front door.

Graham opened it less than a second later. He looked nice. He was handsome with his dark hair, classic haircut, and blue eyes. His face faltered a little bit when he saw me. That felt good.

“Hi, Camille,” he said. It was always Camille. Never Cam.

“I’m…” Ada said slowly, “going to get the boxes out of the car.” She walked back to the car, giving Graham and me some privacy—even though I knew she’d be doing her best to listen from where she was.

“Hello,” I said with a small nod.

Graham slid his hands into his front pockets and pursed his lips. After a few seconds, he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. I nodded. “I couldn’t do it.”

“Yeah,” I said, straightening my spine a little. “So you said. In your note.”

Graham flinched, and I let the uncomfortable silence continue for a few breaths. “Why?” I finally asked.

He brought a hand up and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I…met someone.” I felt my eyes widen. “Nothing happened,” he said quickly. “You’re great, Cam, you’re so great. I know our life would’ve been great, but…”

“…it wouldn’t bethat.” I finished for him.

His blue eyes looked sad. “Yeah,” he said. “I know that this isn’t what we planned, and I’m just so fucking sorry.”

“I…get it,” I said, and I did. I understood what he’d be giving up if he married me because I would have to give it up, too—love, passion, and all the uncertainty and heartbreak that came with it. The difference between Graham and mewas that I wanted to give all that up. Life got so much easier when there were fewer possibilities—fewer choices to make, fewer chances that you’d make the wrong one.

“I should’ve told you earlier,” he said.

“You should’ve,” I agreed.

“If it makes you feel better, my parents are pissed,” he said. “They’re probably going to disown me.”

If only.“Worth it, though?” I asked.

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