Colossal, really.
Here on the ranch, surrounded by family who eyed me like I should be on suicide watch, I found myself wanting to off something on several occasions, but it wasn’t myself.
It wasn’t even him.
It was the well-meaning fuckers I shared a last name with.
Sighing, I pulled the Stetson from my head and wiped the sweat from my brow. It wasn’t even spring, but the numbers on the thermometer said it was hotter than hell under the midday sun. Especially out here where there wasn’t a shade tree for miles. Pushing the hair that had fallen onto my forehead from my brow, I settled the hat onto my head.
Up ahead, I spotted a gaping hole in the fence, so I nudged the horse into a canter. I hopped off and turned for the tools, only to stop when I caught sight of a heifer down.
“Shit!” I cursed. We were a few weeks out from the start of the calving season, and all the mamas had been moved to the maternity barn. Or so we thought.
I hitched the horse to one of the fence posts and dropped to the ground to watch the cow. She’d been at this for a while from the looks of things, but I didn’t want to intervene.
I sat picking at the grass, waiting for her to get on with things. Leaning back on my elbows, I stared up at the sky. I loved it out here. Away from the crowds, the expectations, and the pitying looks of worry. I sighed, dropping my hat onto my knee and scrubbing my hands over my face and head.
My head throbbed dully with the remnants of the bottle of whiskey I’d put away the night before. That was always the worst part of the day. That and mornings. Hell, it all fucking sucked.
I missed Hayden to the marrow. I felt his loss at my side like a visceral thing. I closed my eyes and laid back on the ground, clutching my head with both hands, emotions swirling through my body, churning up all the shit I drank so much to forget.
The color of his eyes.
The way they sparkled when he laughed.
The gorgeous color of his skin.
The dark, throaty sound of his voice when he fucked me.
Dear God, his dick and hands and mouth.
The way he called me vato and carinõ.
How I responded to him when he demanded submission.
How it felt as I fucked him.
How he made me feel about myself and him and just everything.
I missed it all.
And I wanted it back.
I wanted to go back in time and unfuck the mess I made.
The cow thrashed around, mooing and moaning. Sighing, I got to my feet and approached her, stopping when my phone rang. I didn’t bother checking it before silencing the call.
My family were going to make me take a very long vacation to the pouting shack Papaw had up north. It was so fucking far from anything there wasn’t cell service, and until recently, there hadn’t even been electricity. My dad and his brothers finally convinced the old guy to let them install solar panels.
When the phone rang a second time, I groaned.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Mr. Holt?”
What the fuck? I pulled the phone down to check the number. BLOCKED showed on the screen.
“Mr. Holt?” The woman called again.
