Page 109 of Lost Then Found
Because I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
But she’s already gone.
**********
The sunrise spills over the horizon, a slow burn of orange and pink bleeding into the pale blue of morning. The air is still crisp, the kind that wakes a man up better than coffee, but I’ve got a thermos of that too, steaming beside me on the arm of my chair.
Old Faithful is behind me, weathered and beaten by years of Montana seasons, a stubborn old bastard. There’s something about it that reminds me of myself—splintered in places, patched together, still standing despite everything.
I tug my leather journal from my coat pocket, flipping to a fresh page, the worn spine creaking in protest. The ink bleeds onto the paper as I start to write.
Jack,
It’s been a while since I wrote, but you know how that goes. I keep thinking about what you’d say if you were here, what kind of shit you’d give me for the mess I’ve made.
She was always it for me. You knew that too, I think. Being back home has only made me realize that more and more.
I keep thinking about this one night when we were seventeen. Late July, the heat thick in the air. We were lying on the flatbed of my truck, parked out past the south pasture, the sky stretching wide and endless above us. Lark had her arms crossed behind her head, her long blonde hair fanned out over the blanket we stole from my mom’s porch. She smelled like wildflowers and summer.
We weren’t supposed to be out that late. She had a curfew, and I had work at sunrise, but neither of us cared. The stars were too bright, the world too quiet, and neither of us were ready to go home.
“If you could be anywhere in the world right now,” she said, voice soft, “where would you be?”
I remember turning my head toward her, watching the way her eyes reflected the moonlight. “Right here.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, nudging my arm with hers. “Be serious.”
“I am.” I shrugged, shifting onto my side, propping my head up on my hand. “What about you?”
She exhaled, like she had a thousand answers but didn’t know which one to pick. “I don’t know. Somewhere different.” She turned her head, looking at me like she was seeing something she hadn’t before. “But I think it wouldn’t matter as much if you were there too.”
I should’ve told her then that I felt the same way. That wherever I ended up, I wanted her there with me. But I didn’t. Instead, I kissed her and reached for her hand, laced my fingers through hers, and let myself believe—for one night—that maybe we’d never have to leave at all.
I exhale hard, raking a hand through my hair. The sound of a truck crunching over gravel pulls my attention, and I close the journal. Wren’s behind the wheel of her beat-up Chevy, pulling in ahead of the other ranch hands I called this morning. She waves as she hops out, already dressed for the day in jeans and an old, ratty Johnny Cash T-shirt. Her hair is braided back, her boots kicking up dust as she makes her way over.
“Sage and Ridge still tied up?” I ask as she reaches me, dragging a second chair over and plopping down.
She nods, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Sage is working the cattle fence on the south end. Some of the calves slipped through last night, and she’s got her hands full wrangling them back.”
I shake my head. “Figures.”
“Ridge is helping with the new hay shipment,” she adds, grabbing my thermos and taking a sip. She scrunches her nose and hands it back. “Said he’d be knee-deep in it for most of the morning.”
I glance back at Old Faithful, rolling my shoulders, feeling the weight of the work ahead. “Guess it’s just us for a while then.”
“You worried I can’t keep up, big brother?”
A chuckle rumbles in my chest. “Just don’t want you crying when I actually put you to work.”
She snorts. “You wish.”
Wren eyes me for a second, tipping her chair back onto two legs, arms crossed over her chest. “You look like a sack of shit. What happened?”
A laugh punches out of me before I can stop it, low and rough in my throat. “Jesus, Wren. You ever think about sugarcoating things sometimes? Maybe having some human decency?”
