A few kilometres up from the main ranch entrance, Denny nearly loses his coffee again when the truck rattles across a cattle guard approaching the calving barn.
“So you want to be with her? Be a couple? Make it official? Not see other people?”
Stepping into the brutal cold, I slam the truck door behind me with a shiver. A deep inhale makes my nostrils freeze shut for a second. “Jesus, how many ways can you ask the same question?”
“Oh, I can keep going.” He throws open the heavy barn door and, while the air isn’t much warmer inside the old building, it cuts the nasty wind. “I didn’t see this shit coming. You and her. You and anybody. Now I’m stuck chasing buckle bunnies with Colt as my wingman.”
“That’s the real reason you’re invested in my love life.”
“Love life? You got it that bad for her?” He side eyes me as we pass calving pens filled with cows and their brand-new calves.
I nod. I’m a total goner. “She’s everything.”
Colt yells our names from the end of the aisle, cutting the conversation and grabbing our attention. “Mornin’. Think you guys might want tohelp this one. When I was out at midnight she was just getting started, but she still hasn’t calved so I brought her in.”
Typically we let nature work. When things are going well, it’s better for everyone involved not to intervene with birth—mamas do it on their own, and we try not to jump in to assist unless absolutely necessary.
“Great. Red needs his practice delivering babies, just in case.” Denny ducks before I’ve had the chance to process what he said. Turns out my brain struggles to function at five a.m. when I didn’t get to sleep until well-after midnight.
“You’re a dipshit.” I lazily swing my arm in his direction. “Go grab the chains, Colt. She likes to throw big calves—likely needs a good tug on the calf from our end.”
“Hope you don’t talk about Cass that way when the time comes,” Denny says, quickly hopping out of arm’s reach.
Colt shrugs. “Hopefully she’s an easy calver.”
“Colt.” I raise my voice. “Grab the fucking chains like I told you to. You’re both idiots, and I’m gonna go back to bed if you want to be pains in my ass all morning.”
Settling in on the bunkhouse couch shortly after five p.m., I can already feel my eyelids growing heavy. I’m close to finishing Cassidy’s present and, with her still not wanting to speak to me, I can afford to take a night off. Get a decent sleep, for once. Well…decent-ish. I haven’t had a restful night since the last time I slept with my arms around her.
Rob, the obnoxious old son-of-a-bitch, sits in the recliner and leans back, chugging from an amber bottle. Seconds later, Colt flops next to me and holds an open beer in front of my face.
“Nah, I’m not drinking,” I nudge his hand away. “Told you, Iquit that shit.”
“Sorry, bro. Forgot.” He grins. “More for me.”
Rob snorts. “Not drinking. As if that’s gonna last long.”
I could drink it. Not like it fucking matters. It’s been a week since my last drink at The Horseshoe, and nothing has changed. I haven’t suddenly become a new person. Cass hasn’t reached out. At least a few drinks would take my mind off how miserable I am for a few hours.
I shouldn’t drink it. Because, on the off chance Cass wants to talk to me ever again, I want to tell her I’m trying. And mean it.
Retreating to my room like a child hiding from my alcoholic dad again, I grab my phone out of habit. I expect her to ignore me, since that’s the way each of my other attempts at contacting her over the past few days have gone.
Red:You had a doctor’s appointment today, right? How did it go?
Cass:Baby’s good. I’m good.
Red:I should’ve been there
Cass:Yeah
Red:I’m sorry. Really fucking sorry.
Cass:I know. I just don’t know what to do with that right now
Red:Talk to me?
Cass:Sunday? I have the day off
