Once the door is closed behind me, I call my dad. The line rings four times before he picks up, voice gruff and angry.
“What the fuck did you do over there, Rowe?”
My eye twitches. “I didn’t do anything. Walt’s a fucking abuser who’s lucky I wasn’t alone when I found his horses.”
“What do you mean?” he barks.
“What did he tell you when he called to rat me out?”
“That you took off without a word and didn’t do a damn thing we agreed on.”
“His horses are half-dead. I’ve got enough photos of their neglect to ruin his life and make sure another animal doesn’ttake one step onto that pathetic ranch of his. I’m taking them with us when we head out in the morning. They’re Painted Sky horses now.”
“Slow down. You can’t take his horses without reporting him first. Neglect or not, they belong to him.”
“You can’t be serious. Filing a report and getting the peace officers out there will take days. If not longer.”
“That’s how it works. You want to take his horses, fine. But you do it legally,” he demands, voice as hard as granite.
I want to send my fist through the wall. “I’m not coming home without them.”
“You are unless you want to see the inside of a jail cell again.”
“If you believe that I don’t think that’s worth the risk, you’ve gotten too goddamn old to think clearly.”
His words are nearly growled when they hit my ear. “Get home right now.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow.”
I hang up before he can respond and walk down the long concrete balcony that’s connected to every room on the second floor. With every step I take, my desire to throw my phone hard enough to shatter it grows. The parking lot below me is too full for a place this rundown. I stare at the black diesel branded with my family ranch’s logo and grit my jaw.
The horses we left behind are mine now. They’re coming with us regardless of what my dad wants, but that doesn’t settle me. I wrap my fingers around the rusty railing and lean my weight against it, daring it to break.
“I ordered food.”
Her voice makes me tense. I don’t respond.
“I took a guess that you still like burgers, so that’s what I got. The restaurant I ordered from looks like it could be a front for something else, so just know you’re risking food poisoning if you choose to eat. It was the only option in this town.”
“Tilly,” I warn gruffly. “Stop talking.”
“So you can self-destruct? Not a chance.” She joins me at the railing, choosing to drape her arms over it. “Come back in the room.”
“You should be happy that I’m leaving you alone. Isn’t that what you prefer?”
I don’t know why I say it, only that when I do, I regret it.
“We can argue if that helps you feel better. But don’t make assumptions like that when you were the one who abandoned me,” she says, sounding far too strong for how messed up I feel right now.
Turning my head, I stare at her, wishing she’d do the same. Her eyes stay looking forward, fixed on a random car in the parking lot. The bridge of her nose is perfectly straight, regal almost. It broke when she was twelve and face planted into the dock at the campground, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at it.
Mine’s the opposite. I’ve broken it more times than I’ll ever admit, and it looks like it.
“I tried to make up for it. You’re the one who didn’t reply to my last letter.”
A muscle in her jaw moves. “Your last letter? The one where you told me that we couldn’t talk anymore? You used my— You turned against me. I knew for years that I shouldn’t tell you how I felt, and all you did was make sure that I’d regret my clouded judgment every day for the rest of my life.”
That wasn’t what my last letter said. Yes, I sent the one she’s referencing, but two months later, I wrote another. She sounds so confident in her claim, though. And I’m not interested in rehashing our past right now. Not when I’m subconsciously leaning toward her, too weakened from today to keep my distance.
