“Not much, honey, you good?” I reply back to him, trying to keep my composure.
Luke Dillard is another one of my favourite men. Him and Hope have been going strong ever since we were kids. Friend’s since forever. Married at twenty-three, those two are living the dream.
My dream…
No babies yet, although when it does happen, he or she will be incredibly spoilt alongside my Ellie. I tell ya’, that day can’t come soon enough, I am so ready to be an aunt. Ellie is so ready to fuss over a new baby.
“Yeah, all good, darlin’,” he pauses, looking at me. “How comes you’re late this time?” He teases taking a swig of his beer.
Shit, now I’ve got to find an excuse.
“Oh, Ellie wanted me to tuck her in,” I reply, waving him off the path of complete destruction that Ihave a horrible feeling is going to follow.
Nice save.
They’ll never question anything to do with Ellie.
“Fairs. How’s our favourite girl anyway? She looking forward to the annual cookout on the Fourth?” He leans against the bar, and I look up towards his tall frame, brown hair slicked back under his trucker hat.
“She’s good, keeping busy with Mama. Although, Colter’s promised her that we’re taking her out with the herd on Monday,” I say with a slight glint in my eye.
“Well, it’s about damn time, girly,” He snorts into his beer.
“Tell me about it.” I knock back yet another whiskey.
Placing my glass on the bar, I signal Mack back over. “Keep em’ coming, honey,” I purr, pointing down to my glass.
“Let’s get some tequila!” I shout, leaning over Hope’s shoulder.
Terrible idea? Definitely.
However, this mama’s on a drowning her sorrows night tonight.
Hopefully, I’ll be able to pretend that asshat didn’tjust turn up at my door and back into my life.
Eight
Maverick
Why couldn’t I have just left it alone?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I hear Mabel screaming over and over again in my head as I drive down the long dirt road that’s taking me away from the ranch.
That’s going to be my new nightmare.
As if the pull wasn’t enough, being the main source of my panic attacks.
Her scream’s worse. So much worse.
I pull over in a small layby on the dirt road, my mind running away from itself. I have no idea how long Isit here; I just keep replaying that scream.
Looking at the dashboard, the time reads seven twenty-one. If I remember correctly, Jake told me once his set usually starts around seven-thirty. I’m only minutes away from McCoy’s.
“Fuck it,” I say for the second time tonight as I put the truck in drive, lifting my foot off the brake pedal and onto the gas. I’ve already started the carnage, might as well get the rest over and done with.
Starting with my brother.
