She sits back and crosses one leg over the other. “Gray looked it up and I’m pretty sure he said about fifteen hours.”
My feet slam onto the wooden porch in front of me from their resting place on the chair as I sit up straight as a board, making a huge thud on the floorboards. It startles Sarah, and she sits at attention as I throw the blanket off my lap. “I only made enough for breakfast and lunch, he doesn’t have anything for dinner.”
Sarah holds out her hand like she wants to comfort me. “I’m sure he has plenty, honey, you shouldn’t worry.”
Panic slices through my chest even though I know dad probably gave him money to get something if they stopped. But what if? Mason eats his weight in food, he’ll be hungry. My breath lodges in my chest.
It’s all because of me.
I turn to Sarah. A part whine, part moan escapes my throat. “His life is ruined because of me.”
If he hadn’t went outside that night to see what was taking me so long, he wouldn’t have beat that boy almost to death. If he had only waited just five more minutes, I’m sure he would have found just me, alone in his truck, and the police would have taken care of the rest.
He wouldn’t have been pulled from his dream of working the ranch with Gray, raising and training horses, and having the life that he was born into. He lost everything by trying to protect me.
I’m trying to suck in a deep breath, but I can’t seem to get enough air. The ache in my chest feels like someone set a boulder across my ribs. I stand up, my hands out in front of me, but my vision is starting to tunnel and black spots are floating around in every direction.
“Opal.” Sarah yells as she stands in front of me, grabbing my hands. “Breathe, Marley. Focus on me.”
The screen door slams, and our housekeeper, Opal, takes her place in front of me. Her old, bony, rough hands cup my face and she stands directly in my line of sight. “Marley, focus, baby, what color are my eyes?”
Brown, her eyes are brown, and she has wrinkles all around them. My chest is still burning, but I’m able to suck some air in my lungs. Sweat is popping up on my forehead with a strange tingle over my skin.
Wrapping my fingers around Opal’s wrists, I focus on her eyes just inches away from my face, the wrinkles that get deeper when she smiles, and the way her curly gray hairsticks up on the sides after it pulls out of its braid.
Somewhere in the background, I hear Sarah yelling, “Gray!”
My knees give out and Opal shoves her arms under my arms to slow my fall. “Gray.” Her voice is urgent and firm, but she keeps it calm.
I know there are people around me, my brain knows that Opal is right in front of me and Sarah is to my left, and Gray is somewhere in the stable. My dad will be back soon, but I feel so alone. Even with my little brother and two little sisters in the house with us when they’re home from school, I still feel so totally alone.
Another wave of grief washes over me, and I crumple into Opal’s arms as the sobs make my whole body shake. How am I supposed to do this by myself? Why did this happen to us?
Boots running up the steps of the huge wrap-around porch are to my right, and strong arms slide behind my legs and back, and then I’m being lifted.
“It’s okay, Squeak, I gotcha. Opal, will you grab some water and her pills, please?”
I turn my face into Gray’s chest as I fist his shirt and let the sobs go, the hurt and agony in my voice is loud in each cry. He carries me to my bedroom and sits behind me on the bed, rocking me against his chest until the sobs turn to squeaky hiccups.
Opal hands him one of the pills the therapist prescribes for me and a glass of water. “Here, honey, take your meds and you’ll feel better.”
It’s not true. They take the edge off, and they help me fall asleep, but they don’t make me feel better. I take them anyway. It makes everyone else feel better.
Gray sits and rocks me until my eyelids are too heavy to hold open anymore.
CHAPTER THREE
CURRENT DAY
HARLOWSprings Ranch
Near Claremore, OK
Jax
Tossing my keys on the island that separates the kitchen from the living room in my new condo, I lean against the counter and pull up the app that has become the most used app I have installed on my phone. That little red dot is blinking exactly where it is supposed to be.
I watch it blink a few times, the deep-seated need to know where that dot is at all times is appeased. Some might call it an obsession and some could even go so far as to call me a crazy stalker, but I don’t give a fuck. Leaving things to chance hasn’t been my way since I was young, and I won’t take chances with those I care about again.
