Page 82 of Wildest Forever

MORGAN

ONE MONTH LATER

Numbness fills my chest whenever I think of Pops. Time has moved so slowly but at the same time passed in the blink of an eye.

We had the funeral at home and buried him at the bottom of the field, under the apple tree where my grandma is buried.

Dusty has thrown himself into the ranch, working all the hours he can, and I have just been trying to keep my head above water.

The grief comes in ebbs and flows, and honestly, I don't think I would have got through the last month without the Riveras.

I never knew how much I needed them.

I always thought I would be alone forever and having to deal with this huge change all by myself, but they haven't let me be alone ever since.

Pacey has been incredible, I think I always knew that he would be, but I never wanted to give him the chance I suppose. Then this huge moment happened, and he has picked me up every single time.

My heart is still broken, a thousand pieces scattered around the floor that he still hasn't managed to find, but I know it will take time.

I will never be fully whole again, but he can fix me the best he can.

Sighing, I step onto the porch and place my cowboy hat on the top of my head.The sun is warm, beating down on my sensitive skin.The soft breeze dances through the trees and I know it's pops. I feel him everywhere.

Smiling softly, I step down and my heart beats a little faster in my chest as my boots glide across the dusty ground beneath me.

Dusty is in the distance, riding down to the bottom field and I find myself drifting towards my pops’ work shed.

The door is ajar and my brows crinkle, panic pricks at the base of my neck as I sneak around the wooden door and see Pacey standing in there, hands pressed into the front of his pockets, eyes scanning the room.

The sound of my boots has him looking over his shoulder, a warm smile spreading across his lips as he eyes me up and down before holding his hand out for me to move closer to him.

Inhaling heavily, I step forward, placing my palm in his as he pulls me beside him.

“What you doing in here?” I whisper, the dust settled on a lot of my pops’ things, the smell a little musty where it's been shut up, but the hint of gasoline wraps around us from the scent of his old, rusty tractor.

“Just found myself walking in here,” he shrugs a shoulder up as his grip tightens around my fingers. His face turns to look at me, eyes dusting up and down me. “How about you?”

“Same,” I sigh, and my chest rattles, my heart hollow and weeping.

“Feels weird around here, don't you think?” he asks me before he focuses on the tractor, head tilting slightly.

“Yeah,” my voice comes out in a whisper and goosebumps scatter across my skin.

I feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him because if I do, I'll crumble, and I don't want to keep crying.

“Do you have much work to do?” my voice cracks as I settle my eyes on the dust sheets in the corner of the room.

“Baby,” he sighs, “I always have work to do,” a soft chuckle following.

I give a knowing nod as I kick the toe of my boot into the concrete floor beneath me.

“Well...” and he pauses before I look up at him, “I better get going,” he gives me a small smile as he turns his back on me. “I’ll see you for supper.”

Before I can respond, he is walking towards the exit, slipping through the heavy wooden door then disappearing into the warm summer day.

My chest aches when I am alone, and I hate it.

Spending a small moment more in here, I say goodbye to my pops and close the door behind me, pushing down the large wooden panel to lock it shut.

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