Page 20 of The Pieces We've Lost

Isa

a normal one…

I groaned and lay back on my bed as I thought about my impending coffee…meeting with Colter, also known as my own personal hell.

All you have to do is give him thirty minutes of your time. That’s all. Then he will be out of your hair and out of your life.

The early morning sunrise emitted amber rays on the ranch, making the hills look ablaze, and the katydids chirped in the grass. The birds sang a cheery melody and the wind rustled the tree branches, creating an entire symphony that only the earliest risers would experience. It was a rare peaceful moment before the ranch hands arrived and started working.

We had several horses, but my dad’s horse, the one he had competed with, had passed a couple years prior. His name was Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain. My horse was a little Palomino named Lucille, after the Kenny Rogers song. She didn’t have a fancy registered name like my dad’s horse. Some of the ranch hands also had dogs they would bring onto the ranch to run around. My favorite was a good old boy named Smokey.

I went for a quick ride around the ranch, walking the perimeter along the fence-line. While the broken fence got fixed earlier in the week, I wanted to make sure there weren’t any other damaged spots. A small part of me hoped there was a weak spot so I could have an excuse to take a rain check on coffee, but the rational side of me knew canceling wouldn’t solve the issue. He’d probably just find me again somehow.

The longer I put off going, the less time I would have to get ready—not that I was trying to impress Colter. I wasthinking of it as more of a courtesy to other coffee shop patrons to not smell like a barn.

I rode Lucille back to the stables where I got all of her equipment off and put away, set her loose in the pasture with the rest of the horses, and then ran back to the house to make myself at least presentable to be in public.

“Oh, Ells! You’re up early.” My mother was in the kitchen making breakfast when I got back in the house.

“Took Lucille for a ride to double check the fence,” I explained.

“Would you like something to eat? I’m fixing some things for the boys to come by and pick up,” she offered, holding up the spatula that she was using to scramble eggs for the ranch hands.

“No, that’s all right. Thank you, though.” I squeezed her arm as I walked by her.

“You’re still going to go into town this morning?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just meeting up with a, uh, friend.” I wasn’t going to tell her who I was actually meeting. She’d either be shocked or excited. Or both.

“Okay, well, have fun. Keep your phone on you in case I need you to pick something up,” she instructed.

“Yes, ma’am.” I smiled at her before I disappeared down the hall to the bathroom.

I stripped down and started the shower, the hot steam rising and enveloping my body in the small space. When I stepped in, the scalding-hot water burned, causing me to hiss and turn it down slightly. My plan was to take a quick shower, in and out, but I found myself taking my time. Making an effort. Definitely not because I was going on a…hangout. Not a date. It wasnota date. My brain already knew it wasn’t a date. There was absolutelynothing that was going to come out of this. We were two people redoing a really bad first conversation. So then why was I nervous?

This was really no big deal. Just strangers meeting for coffee.It sure sounds like a date,the voice in my head told me.It’s only a date if you make it a date,I reassured myself.And you will not make it into a date.

The drive into Houston could take a good hour or more with heavy traffic. Luckily for me, there wasn’t a lot of it so I had less time to overthink.

I tried to make my mind blank, to not think about anything, but I’ve never been good at that. My mind was constantly in a state of planning. I was always thinking about how to prevent situations in which I would be vulnerable or defenseless. Not just physically, but emotionally. I would have rather bottled up my feelings than dished them out to a stranger like a buffet. My personal life was just that. Personal.

I would gladly be perceived as a coldhearted bitch if it meant my heart and emotions were protected. I wasn’t going to be a pity project, or someone to psychoanalyze. This was how I had lived the past fifteen years, and it worked just fine for me. I had my inner circle, my mom and Isabelle, and that was enough.

I pulled onto the street where The Corral was located. There was a practically empty parking lot across the street, and I debated turning around instead of parking. I considered wasting the gas and never looking back, but I drove around the block a couple of times instead. I’m sure I looked idiotic, judging by the confused glances the groupof people eating outside on the patio at one of the restaurants gave me each time I passed. But I wasn’t ready to potentially put myself and my heart out there for someone to see.

Fuck, Ellison. Come on. You’re not a fucking chicken. It’s just coffee. You’re not marrying the guy.I gave myself a pep talk in my head as I parked, grabbed my bag and keys, and then headed in the direction of the coffee shop.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

colter

Isat at a table for two by a big window in the coffee shop I asked Ellison to meet me at. I faced the door so I could see her when she walked in. I had done what I could, and now the ball was in her court. There was nothing I could do except hope she showed up, and God was I hoping.

I arrived twenty minutes early. I was a creature of habit, and I was always taught that if you weren’t fifteen minutes early, you were late. I can attribute fifteen of the twenty to that, but the extra five? I was getting restless sitting around, and I wanted to be there before her in case she showed up early too.

I tapped my heel against the ground repeatedly, my leg shaking.

What if she doesn’t show up?

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