Page 6 of The Pieces We've Lost

“You couldn’t have waited until it was at least light out?” I grumbled as I closed the window and headed to the door to help him.

It hadn’t been that long since Mikey stumbled home drunk with Hayden. Just because he wanted to get up early to get his pickup didn’t mean the entire neighborhood wanted to wake up with him.

“This piece of fucking trash,” Mikey cursed under his breath.

I had gotten outside barely in time to see him kick the side of the door, which set off the alarm again.

“Not sure that’s gonna keep the alarm from going off. Where are your keys, man?” That was the moment I got close enough to the pickup to realize the idiot had locked his keys inside. I couldn’t help but chuckle at him. “You really thought you could break into your own pickup?”

“Colt, just shut the fuck up and help me, will you?” He rolled his eyes.

About fifteen minutes later, we had successfully broken into Mikey’s pickup and he was on his way back home.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after all that, so I broke my rules of avoiding social media and settled for mindless scrolling on my phone. I had nothing better to do, and besides, Sophie had blocked me, so what was the worst I could see?

I opened Instagram—which I hadn’t been on in months. If someone needed to talk to me, they had my number or they could come talk to me face to face. Even if Sophie wasn’t a factor, I still wouldn’t feel the need to shareanything on social media. The most important people in my life already knew about the things going on because I’d either told them or they saw them happen.

At first, the mindless scrolling was just that. Mindless. Photos of people I hadn’t seen since my college days, some guy I met at a rodeo’s new dog, Sophie posing with a guy…Wait, what the fuck?I did a double take to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me this early in the morning. Blonde hair, elegant features, and striking eyes that could make any man drop to his knees.Fuck. Yeah, that’s her.I had no idea who the guy was, but she had to have unblocked me for the post to come up in my suggested feed. I knew Sophie could be petty, but this seemed like a new low.

This is what I get for breaking my rules, I thought as I threw my phone across the room. It was only five a.m. I still had hours before I could even really do anything, since most of the work around the ranch had been taken care of already,and to top it off, my method of passing the time had been tainted by my ex-fiancée.Wonderful.

I had to admit she still looked good, though. I hoped whoever the new guy was made her happy. He probably wasn’t a cowboy, judging by the way he looked, and he probably wasn’t traveling constantly. She needed someone to be there for her every waking moment. Someone she didn’t feel she needed to tie down because she already knew his every move. Someone she could keep a tight leash on.

I think deep down we both knew that man wasn’t going to be me—couldn’t be me—and that was neither of our faults. It came down to compatibility, but damn, the outcome still hurt.

With my phone sitting on the floor across the room and time to kill, I decided I had to at least try to close my eyes. At some point, I ended up drifting back to sleep, Sophie still on my mind.

I needed to find something that would take my mind off her. The next few weeks would be hectic, and I needed no distractions.

CHAPTER THREE

ellison

The next week flew by in a blur. I avoided Houston as much as I could while still doing my job around the ranch. There was a lot of work that had to be done. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into continuing the family legacy.

In particular, today there was a broken fence on the north side of the ranch that needed to be fixed as soon as possible unless we wanted cattle to get out, which could turn into a shit show really quickly.

I swore under my breath as I reached the fence, getting out of the side-by-side to examine the damage. It was an easy temporary fix—all it would take was splicing in some new wire and stapling it to the post—but eventually we’d have to replace the section.

Television shows and other forms of entertainment romanticized ranches so much that it seemed like everyone wanted to work on one or marry into a ranching family. But they didn’t get the full picture of what the lifestyle really required. It wasn’t just riding horses all day.

Half of the girls I saw on social media wishing theycould marry a cowboy wouldn’t last a week out here. It was hard work. And it was hard work that—most times—wouldn’t make you a millionaire, at least not financially. It took a special person to live this lifestyle.

Horses needed to be taken care of, cattle needed to be moved, and there always seemed to be something broken. Repairing things almost always required a trip into the city, but during this particular week I usually was able to pawn that task off to a younger ranch hand. Not my proudest moments, using my dad’s death as ammunition to get people to do the things I didn’t want to do. But if it meant I didn’t have to go into Houston during the rodeo, it was worth it.

After I finished my share of the work later that afternoon, I was planning on going back to the house and taking a nice long nap. But I knew the universe had different plans for me when I saw the familiar gray Honda Civic in my driveway.

I walked into the living room and there she was, helping herself to the food in our fridge. Isabelle Bennett. My best friend.

She was like a second daughter to my mother, so Hanna never minded when Isa came over and raided the cabinets, or the pantry, or the fridge. But sometimes I wished Isa would at least givemea heads up.

“Hey, Is. What’s up?” I sat at the counter, trying to see what she was getting into.

“I was gonna make Hanna some cookies, but now that you’re here I have a way better plan.” The corner of her mouth curved up into a smile that could only mean trouble.

“If this involves going into Houston, I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed,” I muttered.

“What? You have to come out with me, Ellie,” she whined.

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