The friend. The steady one. The version who came to me when things fell apart. Who trusted me with the behind-the-scenes pieces of his life. The version who didn't break my heart because he didn’t hold it in his hands.
At least not officially.
But when their relationship finally collapsed, I was left standing in the middle.
And I had to choose.
Him or Amber.
Amber cried when I told her. Said I was a terrible friend. Said I should’ve walked away from the job. From him. That loyalty shouldn’t look like betrayal. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was an awful friend. But the truth? I liked what I was doing. I was good at it. And more than that I liked being around Liam. More than I ever should’ve let myself. Choosing him cost me a friendship, but I won’t let it cost me my soul.
I sit a bit straighter, as if I can somehow convince my heart to fall in line with my brain.
“We’ll need to see if Sam or Phern can look after the cattle while we’re gone,” I say, shifting gears like it’s second nature. “We’ve got three cows due to calve any day now, and a handful of heifers that need to be pulled off their mothers.”
If Liam notices the sudden detour into business, he doesn’t call me on it. Doesn’t ask why I went from near confession to herd logistics in a blink.
“Good thinking,” he says easily. “I’ll call Sam in the morning.”
“Let him know the kittens are ready to be picked up, too.”
“Kittens?” He glances over, surprised.
I smile. “He wants to give Charlie one for an early wedding gift. Snooki’s litter is weaned now.”
“Wait. Snooki had a litter?” He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “How did I miss that?”
I shrug, smirking. “Because you were too busy trying to figure out if you had enough feed for the new bulls and arguing with the fence guys about electrified gates.”
He shakes his head. “What would I do without you?”
I don’t answer. Because we both already know. He’d be screwed.
“Do you want to pick one?”
My breath catches in my throat, and for a second, I almost say yes. God, I want to say yes.
But I shake my head instead. “No. Lura’s allergic.”
It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth.
I’ve wanted a cat for as long as I can remember. Something soft and warm to curl up with. A little creature that’s mine. But life always had other plans, like a sister who was allergic. And I’ve gotten good at telling myself maybe one day without letting the wanting show.
Liam glances over at me. “You could pick one out and just keep it on the ranch.”
I smile, but it’s small. “Too many things that might happen to it out there. And I know how you feel about cats indoors.”
He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t try to protest. Because he knows I’m right. There’s a pause. A beat heavy with things neither of us quite says.
“I—”
“We—”
We both stop, then laugh at the same time.
“You first,” I say, folding my hands in my lap.
He rubs the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed, but his voice is soft when he says, “I was going to say we could set up a nice spot in the main barn. Heat lamps, soft bedding. If Stone Cold can have barn cats, so can I.”
