I lie to myself and pretend not to care either way.
It’s eating me alive.
I blocked his number and deleted his contact that same night, not trusting myself to keep my distance if I had any way to contact him. It’s hard enough knowing that I could walk down to the barn and fall apart at the sight of him. There’s no reason to torture myself by reading through our texts and picking everything he said apart.
What’s done is done.
Lucas and I are done.
Maybe this part of my life is done, too. I’ve been threatening to leave the ranch and start fresh since I graduated. There’s nothing left for me here. Mary and Dad can handle the ranch, and I don’t need to be on site to do the books. If this past week has proved anything, it’s that the ranch will survive without me micromanaging every detail.
It’s time to move on. From everything.
That thought hurts almost as much as the knowledge that I’ll never get Lucas back.
A knock on my office door breaks me out of my spiralling thoughts, and I look up to glare at the worn wood. It offers no response, which only makes me glare harder. I consider ignoring the knock, but it comes again, more insistent this time.
“Come in,” I say wearily, leaning back in my chair.
Dad steps in, not bothering to close the door behind him, and my stomach clenches in annoyance. His jaw is set stubbornly, and I can already tell that I’m not going to like what comes out of his mouth. If he says a single word about Lucas, I swear?—
“Rodeo’s tonight. We’re leaving in half an hour.”
I glance over at the calendar pinned to my wall, finding a little note scrawled on today’s date about a rodeo event. I’d completely forgotten about it in light of… everything.
“Right. Have fun, then.”
I’m sure he’s here to try to drag me out of the house, but I have absolutely no intention of going anywhere. My office, my bedroom, and the kitchen—those three rooms have become my world recently, and I don’t plan to exit that orbit until I can meet my own eyes in the mirror without feeling sick to my stomach.
“You’re coming with us,” he says, no room in his tone for argument.
I, of course, argue.
“I have work to catch up on.”
“It’ll be here when you get back,” he says.
“I’ve got deadlines to meet.” I don’t. I’m almost a month ahead of schedule for most of my paperwork. “Bring me back a funnel cake.”
I won’t eat it. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.
“Come get one yourself.” He arches a brow and crosses his arms over his chest in a move that’s probably supposed to be insistent. It would hold more weight if I hadn’t grown up seeing it, if I didn’t know that it’s his version of begging. “A few investors will be there. Need you to show your face.”
It’s a weak excuse, and we both know it. I’ve met all our investors that live nearby—hell, I’ve known most of them since I was a kid. Any other day, I’d call him out on it, but…
After everything that’s happened recently, it’s nice to know that someone wants me around. Even if it’s just my dad. He’s trying, and it means a lot. We’ve gotten better at communicating recently, but neither of us are great at the mushy side of things. At the support. Even if it won’t do anything to makemefeel better, I don’t want to take my heartbreak out on my dad. If he’s willing to try for me, I should do the same.
I sigh and push away from my desk with a roll of my eyes. “Fine. Let me change. Half an hour?”
His lips twitch like he’s fighting hard to hold back a beaming smile, but he can’t hide the happiness in his eyes. “Half an hour. We’ll be downstairs.”
I feel a little lighter when he turns to leave, and for the first time in a week, a smile pulls at the edges of my lips. As loath as I am to leave my safe little bubble, maybe this will snap me out of the funk I’ve been in all week. I can prove to myself that the world still spins without Lucas Cross in my life, and then I can get to my day to day.
It’ll be a good reset.
And I can admit I’ve been a massive bitch recently. Spending time with Dad and Mary when my mind isn’t circling my own misfortune will be good for all of us.
With my spirits bolstered, I make quick work of changing and running a comb through my hair. I don’t bother with anything fancy—a quick coat of mascara and a flannel tossed over a tank top will do, even if any of our investors actuallyarethere. Mary and Dad are dressed similarly, and it makes my nerves settle a bit further.
