No idea how I know this, but I just do.
I try calling her. Texting her too.
No response.
I’m probably overreacting—definitely overreacting—but better to be safe than sorry. Covering dinner with tinfoil, I grab my keys and head out to my car.
I drive way too fast to the ranch’s offices. Wondering all the while what the hell is going down to keep Billie there so long. She did mention waiting until the end of the day to make her proposal. Apparently her mom’s mood improves the closer it gets to dinnertime.
I really, really hope everything’s okay.
I pull up to the limestone building, my headlights slicing across the steel windows.
My heart trips to a stop when I see Billie in the window.
She’s crying, holding her face in her hands.
Shit.
CHAPTER 27
Lessons Learned the Hard Way
BILLIE
“Just so I understand.”Dad furrows his brow, pressing his fingertips into the pristine surface of his desk. “Are you going to build this program in your spare time? Because I’m not sure how you’ll be directorthereand bookkeeperhere.”
Mom is frowning as she stands beside Dad, who sits in his chair. “That sounds like an awful lot to put on your plate right now, Billie.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep, steadying breath. I thought that presenting my idea at the end of the workday, when Mom and Dad are usually their jolliest because their favorite time—dinner together—is imminent, I’d have a better chance of winning them over.
Judging by their confused, skeptical expressions, that is not the case.
Fuck.
“I don’t think it’s any secret I’ve been unhappy in my position for a while.” I choose my words carefully. “It’s time for a change. I’m resigning as bookkeeper so I can be director of the therapy program.”
Dad’s eyebrows pop up. He glances at Mom, whose frown deepens.
I feel seasick all of a sudden.
“I can’t say that I’m surprised to hear this,” Dad says after an excruciating pause. “Of course I know you’ve been in a funk. But I thought that was solved now that you and Ryder are together.”
“My love life and my career are two separate things. I don’t love being an accountant, Dad. In fact, I kind of hate it.”
“But you’re so good at it, honey!” Mom clasps her hands. The knuckles are white. “It’d be a waste to let you quit now. The experience you’ve gained?—”
“We need a bookkeeper, Billie. The idea of a therapy program is neat, but that’s not an immediate concern of ours. Paying our taxes is. Running payroll for our employees is.”
My eyes prick. Damn it, I didn’t want to get emotional, but I can already tell I’m fighting a losing battle.
Or more succinctly: My parents don’t understand what I’m trying to say.
They don’t understandme. And that hurts.
“I’ll help y’all find another accountant,” I manage around the tightness in my throat. “Just because I’m good at something doesn’t mean Ishoulddo it. I miss being outside. I miss—God, I miss everything about being with the horses. I’m meant to work with people and animals. Not numbers. I’m dying a slow death being trapped inside this office all day.”
Mom’s frown deepens. “Well, honey, sometimes that’s just life.”
