My knees threaten to buckle when I stand and make my way to the saddlebag to grab my phone. Reflexively, I’m talking myself out of calling before the phone’s even in my hand. He said he was busy today, so surely he won’t be able to come help me. The preemptive ache in my chest says it’s not worth asking in the first place, whennois such a likely answer.
But…he loves me. Maybe even more today than he did back then. And what if he’s serious about wanting to make things right? What if those promises actually mean something now?
I what-if myself for so long, even Sandy is giving me the side-eye. I’ve suffered in silence countless times because it felt easier than asking for help. And now there’s a man who insists at every turn that hewantsto help, and he’s already been doing so without me asking for it. We aren’t eighteen and misguided by heightened emotions anymore. He’s here. He loves me.
Clutching my fear close to my chest, I shakily hold the phone to my ear.
“Denver?” I let out a pent-up breath. “I need you.”
Denver
Stomping through a sprawling puddle, I take a deep breath of humid summer air. The brief torrential downpour was a welcome sight after weeks of drought, and it left the earth so drenched, the soil needs time to drink it all in.
I rode damn near halfway across the ranch to help Red fix one of the many tractors we have working the hayfields this time of year. The old thing broke down halfway through baling the field, and we’ve been at it for hours trying to figure out what the hell’s wrong with it.
“I think we need to call it quits and burn the damn thing to the ground,” Red says, wiping his brows with his forearm.
“Light the match.” I hold my hands up in the air. “I didn’t see anything.”
With the amount of hours we’ve spent replacing old parts and repairing shit in the field over the past few months, having the practically vintage piece-of-shit disappear would be welcomed by me. Austin might have other thoughts, since he’ll have to come up with the money in the ranch finances for a new one. But I don’t see him out here fixing tractors in the pouring rain.
I stand back, staring at the torn-apart engine and scratching my head, wishing I was out riding with Blair instead. Hopefully she managed to find a dry spot during the storm.
Standing next to me, Red packs his tin of chew with a quick snap of his wrist. “If only I had a lighter.”
“Fuck. Guess we have to fix ’er then.” With a resolute sigh, I pull a crescent wrench from the back pocket of my jeans like a soldier pulling out his weapon for battle. “At this rate, every damn part on this thing will be brand-new before the end of haying season. Get in and try to fire her up again.”
Waiting for Red to climb into the cab, I stroke my knuckles across the sharp stubble on my jaw. I’m usually pretty good at diagnosing issues with machines. I’m not a mechanic, by any means, but we all fell into various roles around the ranch after Grandpa passed, and this is where I landed. Now I handle most maintenance and repairs so we can save an expensive service call-out whenever possible. But this one might need the help of somebody who knows what the hell they’re doing.
To neither of our surprise, the tractor doesn’t start, and Red sits in the cab shaking his head in annoyance. Austin’s not going to be happy, but there’s no way we have the ability to fix whatever’s wrong with the engine.
“Fuck,” I mutter angrily, chucking a wrench at the ground at the same moment a loud ringing chimes from my pocket.
Blair.
That’s all it takes to still the tense air around me. After years of wishing every phone call was from her, seeing her name flash on my screen is something I’ll never get over—the reminder that she’s mine again soothing my erratic, irritated pulse.
“Hey, baby.” My voice instinctively softens when I pull the phone to my ear. A rush of summer air blows the back of my shirt up, and I reach behind with my free hand to tuck the fabric into my jeans.
“Denver.” It comes out in a half-sob. “I need you.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I toss my arm up in the airto get Red’s attention, signaling for him to wrap it up. We’re going home. “Where are you, Bear?”
“I’m okay. I just…sorry, I didn’t mean to bug you. I know you’re busy.”
“Where are you?” I repeat.
“By our tree.”
Our tree.I’ve actively avoided that section of the ranch for years. When forced to take the trail past the thicket of trees that keep our little clearing hidden from the world, I ride as fast as my horse can go. And even still, I feel the emptiness and regret tucked deep into my chest for days after each pass.
“I’ll be right there,” I say, already mounting my horse.
Red slams the cab door and yells at me to ask where I’m going. I shout something incoherent over my shoulder about Blair, and cleaning up our mess, and telling Austin I’ll talk to him later.
“It’s not a rush,” she says. “You can finish helping Red first. I’m okay, promise.”
Fat chance I’d leave her sitting alone somewhere when she needs me. I might not have known better at eighteen, but I do now. I also know exactly how much it must’ve taken for Blair to ask for my help.
