Page 12 of Wildest Forever

“Morgan,” his tone is gravelly, and I shake my head from side to side.

“Just tell me why...” and my voice cracks just as a knock on the front door pulls my attention but I ignore it and focus on my pops.

I know it's just Dusty, my fellow cowboy.

“Tell me,” and that's when I see his eyes shift before he focuses on me and I see the tears that threaten to fall and my heart can't take it, it throbs inside my chest, the ache presenting itself.

“I'm dying, Morgan.”

And his words slice through me like a knife, splitting me in two but before I can even try and soothe the pain, the air from my lungs is knocked from me and I find myself gasping for breath, begging for air and I feel like I am suffocating whilst the knife is lodged and twisted deep within my windpipe.

“It's okay,” he moves closer to me and I see the trail of tears that stain his cheeks and I feel like my whole world has been turned upside down with three words.

I’m dying, Morgan.

“It's not okay,” I choke, my eyes brimming with my own tears. “I have lost everyone, you're my whole world pops.”He continues moving closer to me, his hand cupping my cheek.

“I know my sweet girl, but these are the facts... hence why I am trying to get all of this into motion. You won't be able to do this on your own.”

My bottom lip trembles, chin wobbling and I blink and that's when the tears spill.

“Don't leave me,” I throw myself into him as he wraps his arms around me.

“I'll hold on for as long as I can,” and I hear the way his voice cracks.

“I'm twenty-three pops, I've already had so much loss in my life, I can't lose you too...”

He just holds me as my tears soak through his shirt.I wasn't lying.

He was my whole world.

And now my whole world was about to implode into nothing but dust.

The evening soon creeps around.I am laying on my bed, eyes pinned to the ceiling and I have no idea what to do, but the truth was, I couldn't do anything.

I had to honor his wishes.

He was doing this for me. For the ranch. To save us from the suits.

But I was worried that it was too little too late.

A handsome, suited and booted guy turned up three months ago selling my pops the dream, he ate it up.

Why wouldn't he?

He needed to pay for his treatment somehow.

I knew he was ill.

Just never knewhowill he was.

My intake of breath shudders from all the tears I have cried, and I know I have dried myself out.

Turning on my side, I look at my ajar bedroom door.

The house is silent and in darkness apart from the glow of the bathroom light.

I didn't want to live here without pops, but I knew I had no choice.

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