Page 49 of Ember Meadow
“That’s bullshit.” I glance up at Miles, but he’s already looking at me with a wild look in his eyes. “You’ve worked your ass off on this place, and for what? Someone who hasn’t stepped foot in it the entire time to take credit for it? No way.”
“There’s not much I can do about it, it’s already done.” I sigh, slinking back into the swing.
“You’ve got to get that article taken down,” he says.
“Even if I could do that, she’d just do another interview with a different paper. It’s useless. My team knows the work I put in, that’s all that matters. It’s always been like this with them.”
A flicker of something softer lights up his gaze. “Always?”
I nod. “When I was younger, after they sent me away, they’d bring me back once a year for their Christmas party to show off for their friends. All of their rich friends who look for reasons to bring each other down. I’d have to pretend I was off at a boarding school all year, and that I was happy to be back to visit them for the holidays. They’d dress me up in some dress I hated and cart me around the party until I got too tired, or said something sarcastic, then they’d send me away again upstairs where I’d sit and wish I could go back to my Aunt Millie faster.”
Miles sighs, raking a hand through his hair under his hat. “That’s fucked up.”
“Yep,” I pop the “p” and take another sip of water. “It only took me three years of that to realize it wasn’t going to change. They weren’t happy the first year I didn’t show up, but at least I didn’t have to hear about it from them in person.”
“I can’t imagine not wanting to be around my parents for the holidays. That must have been so lonely,” he says.
I wave him off, “I had Aunt Millie. And Hazel. It sucked, but I’m better off now. Now when they do this type of thing, I’m less and less upset every time.”
“Still…” he mutters under his breath.
“What are the holidays like on a cattle ranch? Snowy, I assume?” I ask.
“Yeah, definitely cold,” he chuckles. “My mom goes crazy for Christmas. We cut a Christmas tree from the back acres of the ranch every year for the living room, and she has artificial trees for every other room of the house. It takes about a week to set up. But it’s worth it. Ever since my dad had his stroke, winters have been harder. Luckily, we have Parker now as foreman so it’s a bit off my back. I try to help her decorate when I can, now that she spends a good amount of time taking care of Walt.”
“Have they always loved Christmas?”
Miles smiles as if he can see happy memories playing on a loop in front of us. “Yeah, pretty much. My mom is from Colombia. She moved to the US as a teenager to work for the national park and spent her first winter in Jackson Hole working in a tourist shop that was dedicated to just Christmas. Ornaments, trees, lights, you name it. She must have bought half of the shop.”
“Sounds like a fun place, is it still around?” I ask. My knee bumps into his. Somehow we’ve inched closer without me noticing. The deep brown of his eyes almost sparkles as he catches my gaze on him.
“No, they went out of business years ago. Probably when my mom had too many Christmas decorations to buy any more,” he says.
“That’s too bad,” I shrug. “I was thinking of a year-round Christmas theme for the Old Cabin.”
“Shut up, Mac,” he nudges my shoulder with a laugh. I can’t help but smile back. I love his laugh. On the rare occasion it slips out.
“If you need decorating help this year, let me know. I’ll drive up here through the snow if it means Isabella gets what she wants,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” Miles raises his eyebrows. Even sitting down, he towers over me as he looks down. An electric charge sparks between us. I wonder if he can feel that too.
“Yeah,” is all I can say.
He’s the first to break eye contact as he leans back onto the cushion at his back. “Alright, I’ll pencil you in for decorating duty.”
Red numbers flash in front of my eyes, changing from 5:13 to 5:14. When I started staring at the alarm clock beside my bed, the numbers said 4:27.
Close to an hour of laying here trying to sleep again. Probably more than an hour, but I didn’t bother to look at the clock when I first woke up in the middle of the night. Between this and having trouble sleeping in the first place, I’ve probably gotten three hours of sleep total.
Even then, I was dreaming fitfully. Pine trees on fire all around me. Running through the mountains in Idaho until I tumble into the big lake Juniper Ridge is built on the shores of. Being pulled under by waves as big as they are in the ocean. Waking up gasping for air.
It’s time I admit defeat and just get started on my day. Might as well be productive if I’m going to be awake anyway.
Rolling out of bed, I find my footing and walk over to the window facing the dirt road that leads up to the ranch. A blanket of stars paints the night sky, which has just slightly started to light up with the hint of the morning sun. The outline of the mountains behind the ranch set a stark contrast of black against the morning sky.
By the time the door clicks shut as I head out for my morning run to the Old Cabin, the sky is a deep purple, stars disappearing in the morning light. The dirt road is hard against my running shoes. My legs ache already, even though the day hasn’t started for me yet. It’s going to be a long one.
The ranch is beautiful this morning. Tall grass fields wave gently on either side of the road, a group of cattle feeding a few hundred feet out. The gray mountains jut out of the earth to my left, bright green trees mixing with dark green pines until about halfway up. The smell of morning dew on the wind, birds singing their songs as Wyoming wakes up.
