Time is a thief here. Each sunset comes faster, and I’m more lost than the day I arrived. I don’t just feel unsure about my future; I feel like a fraud, living a secret life in this house. And at the center of it all is Cyrus. A man I shouldn’t be feeling the things I currently am.
Verybadthings.
The truth is staring me right in the face, impossible to deny.
I don’t want to leave. I want to stay on this ranch, in this rhythm of work and quiet, by his side. I want him to want me to stay. Forever. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? Not to call myself a hopeless romantic here, but that’s exactly how I feel. Like my feelings are out of my control.
He has no idea he’s stolen my heart, and the terror of him finding out is only matched by the terror of him never knowing.
He’d probably be gentle if he knew. That’s the worst part. He wouldn’t put up a wall; he’d just look at me with that quiet intensity and ask me what I thought I was doing.
To him, this could be nothing but fun. A way to escape from the stresses of his world. It’s an escape from mine, but not like some kind of vacation. Cyrus makes me want to pack everything up and stick around permanently.
Because this morning, when he cornered me by the sink, he didn’t think twice about kissing me. We’d already crossed an important line, and doing something as simple as sharing a peck or two feltnatural.
Of course, those pecks turned into something much deeper pretty quickly. Instead of giving me any time to cook him breakfast, he’d fed on my lips until he was satisfied.
I think he’d purposely left me wanting, leaving me in a state I’ve never been in before. The worst part? I knew the only way I’d find real relief was if he were the one to put me out of my misery. If I’d asked, I’m not sure we would’ve gotten anything done today.
Despite finishing my tasks a little early, he’s still out there taking care of things. Far away from me physically, it feels like he’s found a cozy spot to tuck himself away in my head.
A ragged groan escapes me before a cold, wet nose immediately boops my hand. I lift my arm from my eyes to see Meatball’s wide, pale blues, full of a devotion I don’t deserve.
“Shouldn’t you be terrorizing the chickens?” As soon as I speak, she’s a fifty-pound heap of joy in my diaphragm, knocking the air from my lungs. “Your dad is going to see you on the couch and blame me.”
A traitorous, thrilling thought fills my head of him doing something. Maybe he’ll press me into the cushions and punish me for it. Maybe his hands will slip under my shirt again, calloused and sure, until I’m writhing and breathless.
It’s only been days since he’d touched me where I’m the most sensitive, but the need isn’t fading. Working me up without any effort, he hadn’t tried to touch me again since.
If it weren’t for all of those hungry kisses, I’d think I did something wrong. Instead, he’s playing some kind of waiting game that is doing nothing but driving me crazy.
Meatball cocks her head, panting in my face, as my phone erupts into a violent buzz on the side table.
My stomach plummets without even looking at the screen.Dad.
I’ve become a professional at letting it vibrate into voicemail, a coward with a full inbox. I’m terrified of the sound of his voice. The second he asks, “How’s it going, kiddo?”, he’ll know what’s going on because I could never lie to him.
If he even suspects I’m dreaming of dropping this whole career thing, of staying here for a man… he’ll blame Cyrus. He’ll be in his truck before I can explain, coming to rescue me from a disaster of my own making.
He loves me too much. That’s the problem.
The buzzing stops. I exhale, shaky. I need to text him, an excuse to buy time. First, I need a little time to pass to make it even more believable.
I’m a terrible daughter…
At the sound of the front door opening and shutting, she kicks my stomach to launch off, giving a whole new reason to ache.Ouch.
When Cyrus makes his appearance, he’s smelling like hard work and sweat. Instead of heading straight for the bathroom to get cleaned up, he stops short and notices me stretched out so casually. “How do you feel about eating out?”
I’m sitting up without thinking twice; my troublesome thoughts grow quiet in the face of this new distraction. I’ve got no issue with eating the same thing all the time, or being trappedin here with him, but my social skills have been absorbed by farm animals for the last two weeks. I could use some fresh air.
His mouth tilts up slightly at my excitement, and he takes it as a yes. “We’ll just hit the diner, nothing special.”
He says that, but can’t he tell just how special it really is?
With that, he leaves me with my lopsided smile to get cleaned up.
Grabbing my phone, I shoot Dad an apology message. As soon as I hit send, it’s vibrating in my hand.Shoot. My heart starts beating harder immediately, my nerves lighting up. Without thinking, I reject the call. It vibrates again. Clutching the device hard, I’m on the move.
