Page 43 of Hopeless
Silence cloaks us as we pull into Wishing Well Ranch. I was supposed to be helping Cade today. Once I got out of the army, I planned to be his right-hand man. That’s what I told everyone I’d do.
Although I grew up here, I failed to realize something … I’m not a rancher. I don’t care about the cows. I don’t find joy in working the land.
My brother wakes up every morning dedicated to running the family ranch.
I wake up every morning dreading it.
But I hate the idea of letting them all down. So I get up and do it. Bailey and I are alike that way, doing things we don’t like to support our families the only way we know how.
My family is just a hell of a lot nicer than hers. A hell of a lot harder to let down.
“Alright, sugar tits.” I break the silence by cracking a joke. “Where should I build your castle? Facing the river?” I gesture out the same way my house faces. “East for sunrise? West for sunset? The world is your oyster.”
“But your house isrightthere.” She points at the modern house, probably a mere thirty feet away.
“Yep.”
“I told you I wasn’t going to livewithyou.”
“This isn’t living with me. It’s living adjacent to me.”
“It’s really close. Too close.” Her arms cross and her eyes narrow.
“I think it’s the perfect distance.”
Her jaw flexes as she bites down on her teeth. “It’s my house, and I say it’s too close. How about there?” She points at a copse of thin birches in the distance.
“Fuck no.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too far away.”
“It’s just far enough.”
“Why would two people in love live in separate houses that far apart from each other on the same property?”
It’s not safeis what’s really running through my head. In light of today? In light of last night? It would take too much time for me to reach her if something went wrong over there. I wouldn’t hear the noise. See the lights.
I might as well sleep at her front door like the guard dog I am at this point.
She stares at me, and it’s not in anger. It’s more like I can see her brain whirring a mile a minute. Then she looks away. “Fine. Facing the river.”
I grin at her before turning back to the wheel to line up the small trailer just right. It doesn’t matter, though, because I don’t think she’ll be living there for long. She’ll give in and move over to my place.
And then I won’t have to be alone.
“And stop calling me sugar tits,” she adds with a stubborn lilt to her voice.
I don’t mind at all, because it’s a hell of a lot better than hearing her cry.
“Sugar it is.”
11
Bailey
“Should we practice before we go in there?”
