“And Grams, Kate, Allen, Chet, they talk about you all the time,” he said because he had to keep talking or he’d break down, too. “You’re the most exciting thing to come to the ranch in a long time.”
“I’m a paying guest,” Trish said, but there was a hint of laughter through the tears. “Of course they talk about me. And Chet hasn’t said a thing about me. No way. I don’t think he talks.”
Wade chuckled at that, because it was true. Chet was a man of very few words. “I’ll have you know that you’ve made Grams very happy by being here and torturing me,” he said, flashing her a purposefully cheesy smile when she looked up. “She hasn’t been this happy since . . . Well, you know we lost Grandpa last year. If she could, she’d keep you.”
Trish pulled back from his embrace and wiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “What was your grandpa like?” She reached behind them for her drink, but she didn’t scoot away.
“A great man. Loved his family and loved his land.”Unlike his only surviving son.Wade closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t need to bring up Bill or that call tonight. Tomorrow, he’d talked to Grams about it. But tonight, he’d leave it alone. “The ranch was a way of life to Grandpa. A symbol of pride. He taught me how to ride a horse. How to rope a calf. How to drive a tractor. Even how to muck out a stall.”
Wade found it easier to talk about him than it had been before, but it still stung to think he’d never see Grandpa in the kitchen again over a cup of daybreak coffee, as he used to call it.
“You miss him.”
“Yeah. A lot.” Wade found he needed to keep talking or risk falling apart. No point in both of them crying tonight. “I wonder how I’m doing, running the ranch. Wonder if he’s up there.” He nodded toward the stars. “Muttering under his breath each time I do something some lopsided way.”
“I bet he’s proud of you,” Trish said. “I know your grandma is. Overheard her saying so to one of the other writers this morning. How you run things a lot like your grandpa. How you’re so good with the animals the way he was.”
He wanted to pull her close again, if only to make sure she didn’t see him tearing up. Dang it, he didn’t want to be all emotional tonight. “You done?”
“Yeah.”
He finished off his burger and collected all the trash.
Spotting a trash barrel under the single light pole on the opposite side of the vacant lot, he headed toward it. He needed a minute to compose himself. Things were getting too real with Trish. He had to step away or there’d be no hope at all for him.
If only he had never been ruined by grief’s ugly face, maybe he could let himself fall without the fear of losing it all.
* * *
Trish
Trish wrote lateinto the night, finally turning both the clock on her nightstand toward the wall and her phone screen face down when she grew tired of them mocking her. Though her one-on-one with the literary agent was tomorrow before lunch—now today—Trish couldn’t bring herself to stop writing. The trip to Gillette had been inspiring.
Or maybe it had been Wade himself who was inspiring.
Trish pushed away her new feather-light laptop and stood to stretch her legs. Then she proceeded to pace around the bed. Shadow lifted a sleepy head, confused why they were even still awake. She’d followed Trish upstairs earlier, refusing to take no for an answer.
Friends. He’d told her it was best if they stayed friends.
Of course it made sense. Trish would head back to Omaha in three days. She might keep in touch with Kate over social media or Grams via Christmas cards. But she doubted she’d hear from Wade once she left. He didn’t seem interested in Facebook or anything of the like. And half the time, he left his phone behind.
Yet, he’d held her in his arms and let her cry herself clean out of tears on the tailgate when she fell apart on him. His embrace brought her comfort. Made her feel safe. Protected. Henry only knew she didn’t have any family. He’d never asked why. Trish had known Wade all of a few days, and he genuinely seemed to care about the answer.
Too restless to keep writing, Trish slipped downstairs hoping to swipe a cookie from the kitchen and sit outside in the crisp night. Maybe some fresh air would be the key to quieting her racing thoughts. Shadow crept along at her heel.
A few steps from the kitchen, Trish caught a flicker of light as if someone had opened and closed a door, but left it ajar. Her heart raced at the thought of it being Wade, as restless for sleep as she was.
Before Trish could make her escape, Shadow trotted away toward it.
“Shadow!” Trish whisper-called. “Come back! Shadow!” But she didn’t seem interested in listening. “I’ll give you a treat,” Trish tried, but her fluffy tail disappeared around the corner, forcing Trish to follow.
Before she could catch up, Shadow was at the door in question and wedged her nose in the crack. Trish held her breath, wondering how she’d explain this if Wade was standing on the other side, missing clothes.
“Hey, girl.” The voice didn’t belong to Wade, but Lina. “Where’d you come from?” Her tone was quiet, something about it despondent. Trish heard a sniffle.
“I’m sorry, Lina. She snuck off—”
“Trish? What’re you doing awake at this hour?”
