Page 4 of Wildest Forever

“We want the land,” the suit says it how it is, shooting straight for Riggs' throat, but he just whistles through his teeth before turning his head and looking at the rolling green hills.

“Yeah,” he says on a sigh, his brown eyes connecting with the suit, “that won't happen.”

“No?”

“No.” Riggs' softer side has been tucked away as the low growl of a rumble drifts across.

“Like I said to the guys behind me,” he pauses for a moment and glares at his two silent friends. “We will get our hands on this land.”

Riggs laughs again but this time shakes his head from side to side as one of his hands slips from the pocket of his jeans and pulls on his beard.

“Okay,” he rolls his lips, amusement dancing through his eyes and Tripp steps forward, his eyes moving between me and Riggs.

“There is only so long you can hold onto this, the plans are already in motion for what we are doing with it.”

“I know the Governor who would have to sign off the plans, I really am not worried,” Riggs glares at the suit, his gaze narrowing.

“Okay,” suit nods then whistles, and his two lap dogs follow him as he knocks into Riggs' shoulder and scoffs a laugh as he does. I see the way Riggs' shoulders rise, his nostrils flare and his fingers bend into his fist.

“Calm it,” I hear the way Tripp says softly to Riggs knowing that he is about three seconds from exploding and ripping the suits limb from limb and burying them at the bottom of the field.

Hot ragged breaths flare from his nose, and I find myself drifting towards my big brother.

“You good?” I ask, my eyes pinned to the back of the three suits that begin their way across the field.

“I will be as soon as these fuckers are off our land,” my eyes cast up to him, his shoulders slowly dropping as the seconds pass.

“They’re never going to stop,” Buck says as he approaches us and I watch as Riggs finally tears his eyes away from the suits and lets them settle on his father-in-law.

“I don't give a fuck, there is no way in hell I am letting them get this land...” he pauses before casting his gaze to where our father lay buried in the ground. “It'll never fucking happen,” he growls, “live by the ranch, die by the ranch,” and with that he gives a heavy nod and trudges back down the fields and towards the house.

Buck places his hand on my shoulder and gives it another squeeze before he follows my brother down the field, and I sigh heavily.

“You okay?” Tripp nudges into me and I nod.

“Well... I think so,” I lift my cowboy hat and run my hand through my long, dark blond hair before placing it back on my head.

“What's on your mind?”

“Everything,” I admit and that ache is back in my chest and I fucking hate it.

“It's been a tough couple of years,” he breathes out and I nod.

“It really has, when is life going to stop fucking us?”

“I don't think it ever will brother...” he trails off and throws his arm around my shoulders as we begin to walk back towardsthe house, “we just need to ride the storm; we're experts at this now.” He chuckles softly and I swallow down the lump that has lodged itself in my throat.

I have no idea how to ride the storm.

But I’ll try anyway.

CHAPTER TWO

Sitting in Randy's, the small saloon just on the outskirts of Lovelock Bay, my chest feels tight, my shoulders heavy.

The suits riled me up this morning, I'm not one to come to this side of town, I liked The Boot, but since that is nothing but ash on the floor, well, it's either here or my Sheriff’s office. I needed noise. I needed the sound of the antique jukebox as it played John Pardy through the crackling speakers. The floor was sawdust, the bar teak wood with a solid countertop in cherry red. The room smelt of stale beer and leftover bonfire smoke.

Kind of liked it.

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