“I don’t know if we’ll ever even be friends again. There’s no world in which he and I would’ve ended up together if I didn’t accidentally get knocked up. And I thought he had changed, but maybe it was all an act.”
“Hear me out.” Blair pops a chip into her mouth and chews it thoughtfully.This is undoubtedly an intervention.“What if he’s a nice guy who made a mistake? Or, even crazier, what if he hit Landon Wiebe because he deserved it? Like… why are you siding with a piece of moldy cheese over the guy you’re in love with?”
“I’m not siding with the moldy cheese. I don’t exactly have the best track record at picking decent men to date. And now with the hormones and him being around all the time… maybe those are the only reasons I like Chase.”
Blair shrugs. “Yeah, maybe. But what if that’s not the case and you’re self-sabotaging because you’re scared of being hurt again?”
“Ooooh… she’s got you there,” Shelby adds, gripping my shoulder to give it a little shake. “Some guys are cheating assholes—that’s all there is to it. Don’t swear off all men because you’re scared, though.”
“It’s not that I’m scared he would cheat on me. It’s… I don’t want to be with somebody if I don’t think I can trust them one hundred percent.”
“Fair, but also… people screw up sometimes. I don’t think one big mistake means you should totally write-off the man you’re having a baby with.” Shelby pulls a face, squinting at me as I pull a throw blanket tighter over my legs.
“Having a baby together isn’t a good enough reason to date somebody. And I’m doubtful we would both be feeling this way if there wasn’t a baby involved.”
Shelby clears her throat like she’s preparing to lay into me. “I think it’s safe to say your feelings are way deeper than you’re giving them credit for. You’re depressy without him, and we hate seeing you like this. You need to go get him back.”
“I’m notdepressy. I’m pregnant and fat and my back always hurts and it’s winter. It’s perfectly acceptable to sit on the couch and binge watch reality TV all day.”
Following a frustrated exhale, Blair says, “Cass, I mean this with all the respect and love in the world—shut the fuck up. You might be delusional enough to believe your own bullshit, but you can’t lie to us. You were so much happier when he was around. And you’d be the first one to call us out if we were acting this pathetic.”
“We literally couldn’t have a single conversation without you mentioning him and all the nice shit he was doing for you. Girls would kill for that. Hell,Iwould kill for what you have,” Shelby says.
Eyes shut, I sip my root beer and ignore the two of them as they continue listing the reasons I’m stupid not to jump at the opportunity to date Chase. Which isin-fucking-sane. Not long ago, they would’ve had an intervention to talk me out of dating him, had I mentioned wanting to.
In spite of myself, I like him. If I let myself, I can picture loving him, too. It’s utterly, devastatingly terrifying. I was supposed to end up with a nice guy from out of town—with his own house, a job that doesn’t leave him smelling like sweat and hooved animals, and zero desire to be involved in a bar fight. A guy I wouldn’t have to convince my dad to tolerate.
Blair’s voice drifts back into focus. “He also technically doesn’t break your three rules. He hasn’t slept with either of us, you’ve known him since elementary school, and he doesn’t go to The Horseshoe.”
I roll my eyes. “Doesn’t count, and you know it. Elementary school is practically still in diapers. And he was a regular at the bar until we slept together.”
“If anything, that should count for more. There’s only one bar in town and Red stopped going there just to keep you happy.” Shelby scrunches her nose, eyeing me to see if their tactics are working.
I suck in my lips. “Until the other night… and he acted like an asshole.”
25
Red
32 weeks (baby is the size of a box of donuts)
Nearly everything we do around the ranch, we do on horseback. In part because it helps protect the soil, the sensitive native grasses, and the numerous streams we cross daily. But mostly because Grandpa Wells would kick our asses six ways to Sunday if he found out his cowboys weren’t being real cowboys.
The one exception is calving season. When it’s thirty below zero, I’m thankful for the shitty ranch pickup—with torn leather seats, a staticky radio, and a chunk of cardboard zip-tied in front of the radiator to help the truck build heat. Sitting in the passenger seat, Denny’s struggling to keep his coffee from spilling as the old jalopy rumbles down the dirt road.
“Nobody teach you how to drive?” He holds his coffee mug out in front of him, trying to guess where the next pothole might be in the dim glow of our crappy headlights.
“You’re the one who wanted to ride bitch. I’ll trade you so I can fucking sleep for an extra five minutes. I’ve been lucky to get three hours a night lately.”
The truck careens over a large rock, splashing hot coffee down Denny’s arm.Maybeit was somewhat on purpose. He slams the cup into thecupholder, shooting me a death glare that’s impossible to take seriously with the way his lip curls upward.
“I still don’t get why you’re spending all this time on a Christmas present—almost a full month after Christmas, I’d like to point out. I thought you two haven’t talked since you punched Landon Wiebe?”
“We haven’t. But I still want to do this for her. She’s so sure she’ll have to give everything up because of the baby, and I don’t want that. She deserves to have the things that make her happy. Even if she never wants to talk to me again, I want to do nice things for her. Sure it’s a lot of fucking work to build this thing from scratch, but she’s worth it, man.”
Even in the dark, the bunching of his eyebrows is obvious. “Careful. You might break your back trying to kiss your own ass like that. You can say you’re making her this extravagant gift to win her back. I won’t rat you out.”
“Sure. Let’s just say that’s why I’m doing it.”
