Once again, I beat my opponent, who’s probably a better fighter than me because he was looking to cause the most damage and draw more blood instead of taking the winning shot to end it.
“HAYMAKER!” Duke roars from the sidelines the dumbass nickname he keeps trying to give me every time I win with a knockout.
This time, it must stick because as I rise to a stand, wheezing with the effort to inhale with broken ribs, the crowd joins in and starts chanting the name with him.
“Haymaker! Haymaker! Haymaker!”
I look down at Matthews, who is still breathing, even as his mouth continues to bleed out. I spin toward where I think the exit gate is, but the referee has to guide me a few feet to the left. My vision swims. Every part of me hurts, and I know I’ll be in bed for days after this one. I’ll have to tell Duke that Dolly needs to go home for a few days so she doesn’t see me like this and connect the dots.
I look up to see where I’m going when a face in the back of the room grabs my attention. The man is trying to leave through the metal doors, but he glances back at me with a dark look in his eyes. I can’t see clearly due to the sweat dripping down myface and the shadows creeping into my vision, but I’d swear on everything that the face etched with rage belongs to none other than Dolly’s little boyfriend, Benny.
22
DOLLY
Ihaven’t spent much time with my father lately. My brothers have written him off since he’s been checked out of the ranch and family dynamics for years. He’s an alcoholic, the serious kind. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t fall into bed with whiskey breath and unsteady steps. He’s been that way for as long as I can remember, except for the few memories I have from before my mother died.
At this point, I doubt he could stop if he wanted to. His heart would give out.
The mornings are the only time when he’s lucid enough for me to really talk to him about anything meaningful. Since I spent the night at Holden and Rosie’s and didn’t sleep much, I get up early to drive the UTV down to the main house and see him. The sun is rising over the small lake that separates our houses. Mist is evaporating off the glassy surface. I pause to admire the beauty of my childhood home.
I’m blessed to have grown up and lived here my entire life—I know that. But there’s a restlessness inside me, something pushing me to do … something, anything to change things up.
Maybe I just need a boyfriend. Maybe I need to finally finish my cookbook and start pitching agents to see if I can get it published.
Maybe what I really need is to get out of here.
But the prospect of leaving fills me with a sinking sadness. I love living so close to my nieces. Bonnie and Birdie are the sweetest little girls in the entire universe. They’re mischievous, even as toddlers. My purpose in life has always been tied to the ranch and to the family.
I get paid to cook for the family. When Holden was in prison and Cash was running things, I was becoming an adult and looking for work in town while I figured out what I wanted to do. Cash offered to pay me just like he would a ranch hand if I became the designated cook for the ranch. I accepted, but only on the condition that he hire Rosie to be the housekeeper. We were a great team. It left me plenty of time to read and to work on my cookbook and practice as many recipes as I wanted. The ranch hands and my brothers never complained, but they’d happily rate my recipes and give me honest feedback to help me perfect the ingredients.
Now I have Sun Butter Bakery to occupy my time. My own little thriving business that I created and built. I’m proud of it.
I sigh, pushing on the gas pedal and continuing up to the ranch house. Pops is sitting on the front porch with a mug of coffee. My heart sinks when I see him pouring amber liquor into it. He smiles at me, lifting a hand to wave. I return it with my own wave as I put the UTV in park. I sling my bright blue duffel bag over my shoulder and make my way up the steps.
“Hi, Pops. How are you?”
He smiles. “Feeling good, sugar. Were you up at Holden’s place?”
I nod. I wonder if he’s even realized I’ve been gone lately, more than just last night.
“There’s coffee inside if you want some.”
I lean down to kiss him on the cheek, the whiskey smell potent in my nostrils. “I need a cup. I’ll come back out to sit with you. Is Duke here?”
Technically, I’m not supposed to be here if one of the guys isn’t around in case the person sending threatening letters shows up. But it’s early in the morning, so surely, I’m safe.
“I don’t know where anybody is. I can’t keep up with all you kids.” He takes a long drag of the coffee and whiskey.
I nod, knowing that telling him it’s because he’s always drunk won’t make a difference. Once my mother died, he stopped being a father. Holden and Cash practically raised Duke and me. Sterling was lost somewhere in the middle.
I step through the front door, shoving the sad family dynamics to the back of my mind. I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee. Pops spilled the grounds all over the counter, so I clean up the mess and look inside the fridge. The creamer is expired. I use milk instead and add a spoonful of sugar.
The place is mostly clean, thankfully. We have a biweekly housekeeper who comes to take care of it now that Rosie has the twins. It’s not nearly as much to handle since only Pops lives here right now. Duke is in the bunkhouse near the barn, where Sterling is staying, too, while he’s on leave.
My phone buzzes with a text. I walk back out to the front porch while I read it.
Rosie
