Page 41 of Wild and Wrangled

“That’s not the point. The point is that I’ve noticed your grades slipped a little this semester. At a public school,” she said with disgust. I got an A minus in AP Calculus. “And now apparently you’ve sent more than ten thousand texts per month since October. I’m seeing a pattern.”

I shrugged. “I send a lot of texts for soccer.”

My mother pursed her lips, like she didn’t believe me. “I certainly hope you’re not getting distracted, Camille. By anything…or anyone.” She raised her eyebrows, and the image of my mother banging on Dusty’s window flashed through my mind.

I’d never seen her like that before. After I got out of the car, she yanked me into the house by the top of my arm, and when the front door shut behind us, I expected her to yell.

She didn’t. She did something worse. She went deathly calm and said, “You are so disappointing.”

Later, I had to have a talk with both her and my father, where both of them were sure to tell me exactly how disappointing I was and how they didn’t know how I could be so reckless. They informed me I was to keep my distance (as if I could ever do that with Dusty), or else there’d be consequences, their threat vague enough to be darkly ominous. I almost wished for my mom to get angry again—to show she cared or something—but she didn’t. And my dad? Well, he looked bored and disgusted.

I’d never felt so small.

My mother’s voice broke through the memory. “You’re a senior. You need to have an unwavering eye on your future.”

“I do,” I said. I had an “unwavering eye” toward school being back in session.

“I hope so,” she said. “Because in order for us to continue supporting your decisions to live out this silly Meadowlark…fantasy, not to mention financing your life, we have standards that we expect you to meet.”

The closer I got to graduating, the more my parents liked to remind me of my trust fund. They dangled it in front of me like a carrot—like it was the only reason I would do anything. They didn’t know I would do anything just to feel like they were proud of me. I wanted my dad to read the paper I wrote for AP English that I left on his desk. I wanted my mom to take me dress shopping to go to a school dance. I wanted to eat breakfast with both of them on a Saturday and have a pleasant conversation about our favorite parts of the week and make fun plans for the weekend.

“I understand,” I said after a second.

“And I’m serious about that boy,” Lillian said. “You’re better than him, Camille—even if you don’t know how to act like it yet.”

My food turned to ash in my mouth.

After breakfast, I spent most of the day in my room watching movies. I texted Dusty, but he was at work. I hoped someday I wouldn’t have to spend so much time alone.

Chapter 20

Dusty

This year, my mom and I were celebrating Christmas at the Ryders’. She’d been doing this since my dad died six years ago, but I’d always been gone over the holidays. This was the first year that I was home for them.

I headed over there around three. Amos always gave ranch hands the day off, so he, Gus, and Wes worked in the morning, doing everything they could with a skeleton crew.

When I pulled in front of the Big House, I noticed Gus’s, Wes’s and Luke’s trucks. I also saw my mom’s old Toyota Highlander. But there was no sign of Cam’s sleek SUV.

I ignored the disappointment gnawing at my insides.

I grabbed the small bag of gifts from my backseat, and made my way down the shoveled path to the front door. I didn’t bother knocking—just pushed open the door, and let the warmth of the Big House envelop me.

It didn’t matter who you were, when you walked into the Big House, it felt like home—whether you’d never been here before or had crossed the threshold countless times. It alwayssmelled like leather conditioner and pie crust. Today, it also smelled like a lot of good food.

Voices and laughter carried down the hallway. I slipped off my coat and hung it on one of the hooks near the door before making my way into the heart of the home.

“Take your coat off, Luke,” Emmy said. She and Brooks were sitting at the kitchen table. It looked like they were playing cards. “You’re going to get hot.”

“No,” Brooks said.

“Please,” Emmy countered, and batted her eyelashes.

“Fine,” Brooks grumbled. He unzipped the Carhartt coat he was wearing to reveal a cream-colored fisherman’s sweater, which looked exactly like the one Teddy had given to me to wear.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Gus said from the couch. He was wearing the same goddamn sweater.

Teddy—who was sitting on the floor in the living room doing a puzzle with Riley—and Emmy both burst into laughter. Ada joined in from where she was helping in the kitchen because Wes was wearing the same sweater, too.

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