“I know, but I think this is one of those things you’ve got to figure out on your own,” she says.
“Thanks for nothing,” I mutter, though my lips twitch faintly.
She chuckles. “Use your head, Quinn. But don’t be afraid to follow your heart. Love you.”
I sigh. “Love you too.”
When I hang up, the silence rushes back in, heavy and unforgiving. My head whispers logic, but my chest aches with something deeper, something reckless. As I drift off, I’m still not sure which voice I should listen to—my head or my heart.
Give Her What She Wants
Tripp
The sun warms my skin, but I still feel cold. I haven’t been warm all the way through for the last week. This bleak chill settled into my bones the second she reminded me she’s leaving—that there’s nothing to tell Wes, because she and I aren’t anything.
I grit my teeth as I cut toward a cow that’s drifting wide, pushing her back toward the flow of the herd. Grass tramples under hooves as we move them closer to the new pasture. I try to keep my mind on the here and now and not back at the house where Quinn is probably curled on the couch with Pops watchingLaw & Order,or out in the garden with her hands in the dirt, or maybe helping Dr. Dillard at the clinic again. She’s been doing that more and more as Pops improves.
I feel empty without knowing where she is, what she’s doing. Everything is dull and faded. Working on the ranch has never held as little appeal as it does right now.
All I want to do is find Quinn and make her talk to me. Even a gorgeous spring day spent with my best friend driving the herd does nothing to keep the dark cloud from hanging over my head.
I’ve tried to talk to her, but every time I get close, she finds somewhere else to be. And I’ve let her go every time, convincing myself the space might clear the air. But it’s been days, and she’s still avoiding me. And I’m unraveling.
I’m totally at a loss for what to do. How to fix what I broke by insisting we tell Wes. I found a way to ruin a good thing. Just like everyone knew I would.
I hate that Quinn’s here and we’re wasting time dancing around each other like a couple of stupid teenagers again. We pinky swore not to make it weird. To stay friends. To keep it casual. But I lost track of all of that. I let it all get tangled up in the overwhelming feelings I have for her.
I’ll never get to keep Quinn Dawson. I knew that. I’m ill-equipped to keep a woman like her. But that was never what this thing with Quinn was supposed to be about anyway.
Wes gives a sharp whistle from the other side of the herd, a signal for me to close the gap. I shift June, and the cows bunch tighter, moving like a tide toward the gate.
Maybe Quinn’s right, and there isn’t anything to tell. At least this way, Wes doesn’t have to look at me differently. He doesn’t have to wonder how long I’ve been wanting something I shouldn’t. I can swallow my feelings, and then I won’t have to worry about losing Wes’ trust and friendship.
She wanted casual, and I can give her what she wants. I can smile. I can tease. I can fuck her like it’s only about the list. I can pretend my chest doesn’t ache every time I think about losing her. She’ll never have to know.
And when it’s all said and done, I’ll walk away knowing I gave her what she needed before letting her go off to the bigger and better things she was always meant for.
This was always supposed to be about giving her whatsheneeds—about being someone safe she can explore with. I haven’t finished giving her everything she asked me for on that list. But God help me, I don’t want to cross anything else off because it will mean I’m one step closer to losing her. And damn it, I’m not ready for that.
But I can’t last another day without trying to mend things with Quinn, so when I see her alone in the barn after we’re done driving cattle, I decide to corner her.
If she wants to fight fixing this, then fine. She can fight it all she wants. But I’m done giving her space.
She’s crouched beside one of the bottle calves, stethoscope in her ears, completely focused. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, wisps coming loose and framing her face. She looks so damn sure of herself when she’s working. I love getting to see this version of her.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I say, leaning against the stall door.
She jumps, stethoscope nearly flying out of her ears. “Shit. You scared me.”
I can’t help the smirk tugging at my mouth as she drapes the stethoscope around her neck. “I’ve been busy with Pops,” she says quickly, eyes darting away.
“Bullshit,” I say, pushing off the wall. “He’s doing fine getting around on his own, and I know he only has his therapy twice a week.”
She folds her arms, defensive. “I still need to help him do his exercises at home. And Dr. Dillard’s been calling me to consult on some things too.”
I lift a brow at the weak excuse. “And that takes all day?”
“Tripp…” she starts, voice soft gentle, like she’s about to let me down easy. But I’m not about to let her push me away. The distance between us is already unbearable, like a chasm yawning wide before me.
