“Hate is a real fucking heavy thing to carry around,” I say finally.
Her head shifts, nestling into my chest. I run my palm up between her shoulder blades. Maybe she feels a little bit of guilt, coming from an uncomplicated home, but I like that about her. As for me, I’ve had all the complications I need in this lifetime. I’m ready to live out something simple, more than ready to have control over my own place, my own family. It’s what Freya has, and I see what it’s done for her.
“I think…it’s alright to decide something just ain’t for you,” I say finally.
She sighs. “I guess so. I just hate it.”
We sway for a while. Then, the wranglers start settling down, and the only sound left is the lowing of cattle. I take her hand, and we walk down the road, heading in a big, slow circle back to the employee housing. The sky overhead is real clear, stars brighter than daylight. Now that I’m looking at them, they kindof seem like the same stars that hung low over the porch back home.
We end up at the barn, circling around back. I sink down on the bench and pull her toward me.
“What’re you doing?” she whispers.
A tiny part of me sweats bullets when she looks at me like that. Big eyes, hoping for something…hoping for what? For me to make the first big move and tell her I need her to stay? How can I do that when she just spilled her heart out to me over leaving?
I don’t say a word. I just pull her into my lap. She straddles me and slides her arms around my neck. Our mouths meet, and I forget all about the heavy stuff. We don’t go further than making out. I like that, the innocence of kissing behind the barn. I never got to have innocence. I like that she’s still got hers.
My mind drifts back to the birds lined up on the bench by the pond. All kinds, all shapes and sizes. I might be a bittern, quiet and unassuming, but she’s a gentle bird too. A bright little sparrow, never hurting nobody.
Slowly, we untangle. She pulls back, her eyes glassy.
“I’m heading home tomorrow,” she blurts out.
“I hoped not,” I say. “But I thought you might.”
She bites at her lip. “I need to make an appearance in the office and check on my apartment. I’ll be back, I promise.”
Sliding my hand around the nape of her neck, I lean in to kiss her again. “I hope you do.”
We stay like this for a long time, leaning on each other. In the silent space between our bodies, we both know this isn’t a fling. The axis of the world shifted and ground to a halt, spinning out in a new direction when we laid eyes on each other.
Nothing’s ever gonna be the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JANIE
Driving back to the city is the worst feeling I’ve had in a while. I only pack half my things, because then, I’ll have an excuse to come back. But I’m still all torn up over leaving.
It’s about Bittern, of course, but it’s also not about Bittern at all.
I climb the stairs to the second floor, turning the key. The door swings in, and a gust of cool, stale air hits my face. Everything is so pale, insipid even. We’re not allowed to paint the walls, so they’re millennial beige with clumps where the landlord didn’t bother to sand the wallboard down. The couch, the one that Shane helped pick out, doesn’t seem so homey anymore. Not even the western style patterned blanket draped over it brings any color to the room.
Mechanically, I start on laundry. Everything echoes—my footsteps, my suppressed sniffles.
It’s a long night in an empty bed.
The next morning, I drag myself up and get into the shower. The spigot sputters angrily when I turn it, and a stream of rusty water shoots out, hitting the wall. Ew. I guess that’s what I getfor having been gone a week. While I wait for it to run hot, I go to my half-empty closet and pick out a nice outfit—a pencil skirt, heels, and a white sweater. Then, I wash up and spend a while doing my hair.
I don’t want to go to work.
Bolstering myself, putting on a brave face, I grab my handbag and head down to get my chai latte at the corner. The streets are pretty subdued; it’s not yet seven, and only the early risers are out and about. The line at the cafe is short, but I do run into a girl I know from my gym. She asks where I’ve been, and I say home.
She says where’s that?
My throat closes as I describe Ryder Ranch. It’s a relief when my order comes up and we can exchange pleasantries and part ways.
I’m not handling this well.
