Page 12 of Rough
Wilder comes to my side, leaning over the back of the couch, inhaling harshly when his eyes fall on the final part of our quartet. “She looks…” His voice trails off, but I don’t look at him, unable to take my eyes from her face.
“You guys need some sleep.” Trina’s too loud voice cuts through the trance we’re in, and I stand up straight, wrenching my gaze away from Betsy. Clyde is looking toward her, but he hasn’t moved closer, choosing to stay next to Trina while Wilder and I make our inspection.
Clearing my throat softly, I force myself to leave her side and jerk my head toward the stairs. Whispering, I say, “There are rooms up there we can use to crash for a bit. If you’re okay with it, we’ll leave our shit in the car for now.”
Nodding briskly, she steps closer to me and presses her body into my side. I don’t pull away, appreciating the fact that she’s here, while checking in with Clyde. His eyes flick toward the couch once more, then back to me. “We need sleep,” he murmurs.
“But Bet—” Wilder says before Clyde cuts him off.
“I’m sure she’s not goin’ anywhere. We’ve been up all night. Let’s get some sleep and not wake her.” He’s already moving to the stairs, and I let my shoulders fall.
Looking between my best friends, I jerk my head toward the stairs. “You guys know where the rooms are. Why don’t you get Trina set up in the guest room? I’m going to get something to drink, and I’ll be up shortly.”
Wilder pulls himself away and follows Clyde and Trina up the stairs. Standing at the bottom, I watch them disappear around the corner before my eyes fall back to my friend.
The pillow is clenched between her thin thighs, and my eyes roam over her face. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she seems to be thinner than the last time I saw her.
I move over to my dad’s chair on the other side of the living room and let my body melt into it. It feels wrong to sit here, but I do anyway, letting the aches from the drive disappear as I lean back.
It’s impossible to draw my eyes from her. Memories of the last time I saw her flickering through my head as she rode away from us on that God awful horse at our going away party. Not inviting her was a shit move, but I didn’t want her around a bunch of drunk teenagers. Plus, saying goodbye didn’t feel right.Iknewshe’d be hurt. It was probably a pussy thing to do, but Betsy Harper would never have accepted us leaving her behind.
The boys and I always expected to go into business on a ranch together, but Betsy wanted to be there right along with us. It didn’t seem feasible at the time. She was a lanky, younger, eager girl. Her grandpa would have been supportive, but we always figured we’d join up with him. I’ll have to talk to him in the next week or so and see if he’s interested now that my dad is gone.
Shit…
Is this what I have to do now? We left to gain experience and learn how to run a profitable cattle ranch. I expected to have another few years on my own, but now? I have to come home, right?
The soft sound that escapes Betsy distracts me, and my attention falls back to her.Christ, she’s different. She shifts around on the cushions, rolling to her other side so I’m staring at her back and ass poking off the end of the old as fuck couch. My eyes are drawn to her apple shaped cheeks that are hanging off the edge and I look to the ceiling, feeling guilty for ogling her body.
When the fuck did Betsy Harper get the curves of a woman?When we left Broken Ridges, she was petite with a straight form. I ignore the memory of our moment at prom together, and remember the way she was proud of wearing Wilder’s old jeans he gave to her.
She was just a little girl when we left, and the fact that she looks like a woman now is fucking with me. Maybe it’s the shock of my dad passing away and exhaustion, but I allow thoughts of her to distract me for a few more minutes here in the dark.
I force myself to my feet, only studying her for a moment longer before I turn away and force myself up the stairs. I’m surewe’ll see her as soon as we wake up, and I’ll get a chance to talk to her, find out what she’s been up to.
My body falls onto my childhood bed, and I groan into my pillows, my aching limbs melting into the mattress. I flip to my back and stare up at the ceiling with my hands behind my head.
My dad died… and I’m back home. How the fuck did this happen?
Chapter Five
Clyde
Lying in bed at Remy’s house, I stare at the unread message I sent Betsy over twelve hours ago. It hasn’t been read yet, unfortunately. That’s not like her. Shealwaysreads my messages right away.
We’re coming home for a bit. How you been, Country?
I don’t blame her this time, but a small part of me is still disappointed that she hasn’t responded. Cradling my phone to my chest, I let my eyes fall closed. The talk I had with Wilder earlier today still bothers me. Throughout the years that we’ve been gone, I’vealwayskept in touch with her, but lately, my messages have been few and far between.
There’s no excuse for it, either. She’s messaged me, but I don’t always respond after reading, then I forget it’s there.
Maybe it’s the social media shit because I was nervous about her opinion of me and didn’t want to hear tease us about selling out. I fucking feel like I did, that’s for sure.
A loud sniffing noise comes from near the door, so I roll out of bed and crack it open to see what it is. Betsy’s lab trots inside like they own the place. Jumping up on the bed, it settles and sighs loudly. I quickly left its leg and notice that it’s most definitely a girl.Shehuffs at me and stretches out across the covers, groaning loudly.
“What are ya doin’ up here, girl?” I ask softly, running my hand over her head. She has a collar around her neck with one of those bone charms attached. Flipping it over, I read the nameLucy, and my lip curls up. It’s a good name for a dog. “Lucy, huh?”
She wags her tail when she hears her name. Betsy got herself a beautiful dog. Lucy’s fur matches the same blonde color as Betsy’s hair. They certainly looked like a matching set when passed out together on the couch after we arrived.
