Page 60 of Until Next Time
“We love you, honey. We love Dawsen too.” Mom says sweetly and I love her for it.
River and Casey are still bickering and arguing about something going on at the ranch. I just roll my eyes. These two can’t stand each other ninety-nine percent of the time, but they’ve got two common denominators that keep them constantly in each other’s orbits; me, and the ranch.
I just roll my eyes, wipe my eyes and nose with the sleeve of my jacket and break off their argument, “Alright, deal me in, bitches.”
36
Dawsen
Birdie just stormed out of my loft and I’m standing here like the world’s biggest jackass.
“You’re punishing me too.”
Her words ring in my ears.
I’m sick to my stomach.
As soon as Birdie came back into town, I should have kept my distance. I knew I was growing weaker, and I let myself get too close, too comfortable, and I started letting my feelings cloud all of my rational thought and self-control. I got sloppy with my heart and I hurt her with the fallout.
Exactly what I was trying to avoid.
I pull my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and pull up my dad’s contact and dial.
“Hey dad, are you home?”
“Yeah bud, is everything okay?” I know he can tell from my voice that everything isn’t okay.
“Yeah, I just need to talk. Can I come by?”
“Come on over.”
“See you soon.” I hung up, grabbed my trucker jacket from the hook by the door and headed for dad’s.
* * *
I pulled up to my parent’s house ten minutes later, and I see the kitchen light flick on. I jog up to the door, spin my key chain around my finger and find the key on my key ring. I turn the lock and let myself in.
“I’m in the kitchen!” I hear my dad’s voice filter from down the hall.
I pad down the short hallway that leads to the kitchen. Most of the lights are dimmed or off throughout the house, but I can hear the television on in the other room. It’s clear that he was winding down for the night.
“Sounded like you could use a drink?” My dad is twisting the cap back onto a bottle of bourbon.
I just nod and he slides a two finger pour over to me. He raises his glass to mine and we do a faint tap of our glasses together.
We take a sip and then face off for a few seconds. We’re separated by the kitchen island. I set my glass down and lean over the island, propping myself up on my elbows, and pressing my face into my hands with a groan.
“What’s going on, son?”
I’m silent for a beat. Because I haven’t sorted this all out. My heart is racing, my chest is tight, and I feel like I can’t get a deep breath.
I hate this feeling in my chest, and that’s when I feel my throat tighten, and my eyes burn.
“Dad, I’m so messed up.” I say, my voice cracking. Not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep my composure. I’m unraveling.
Dad rounds the island and puts his hand on my back.
“Let’s go sit.” He nods towards the kitchen nook where there’s a small table with a couple chairs around it. It’s the same place mom used to read her book in the morning with her cup of coffee.
