My swallow is harsh. “Stop packing my shit, Lawson.”
“No.”
He goes to my dresser, tugging a drawer open and tossing a handful of my underwear onto the shirts in my bag. Socks follow. When he realizes the bag is full, he grunts and heads for the hall.
“Where are you going?” I ask, following after him.
His eyes sweep the living room before he heads for the kitchen. “Where’s Bell?”
“Lawson Darling. I amnotleaving.”
“Like hell you aren’t. Bell?”
Lawson goes for the back door as he calls again for Bell, but I block his exit, my hand on the wood. “Are you listening to me? You can’t just…show up here and pack up my things and expect me to follow.”
My friend spins, toe to toe with me as he sets his jaw. We’re the same height, so his eyes meet mine easily, a hurt there I’m not expecting.
“You followed them.”
He doesn’t need to clarify who. “Stevie was my partner.”
“And who am I?” he asks, waiting for me to answer.
I let out a quiet breath. “My best friend.”
“That’s right, Oakley Beaumont. I am. And I would never leave you like they did.”
Lawson tugs open the back door as I stare after him, my chest painfully tight at the unspoken words.Not like I left him, either.
“Bell!” he calls, stepping outside.
“Law,” I say, tired beyond measure, despite the fact that I just woke up. “What are you expecting to happen here? Bell’s not gonna fit in either of our trucks, and I can’t leave her behind.”
“I brought my trailer.”
He…
I backpedal, heading for the front door and tugging it open. There’s a goddamn trailer attached to Lawson’s truck.Jesus Christ.
I hear a soft rhythmic chiming as I recross my house, Bell the Miniature Galloway cow trotting up to Lawson. The man is all smiles as the cow reaches him, looking as happy as a cow can look. Her body is entirely white, her nose, ears, and hooves a stark black in contrast. She reaches Lawson’s hip at her adult age of six, small for a cow but notsmallby anymeans. The bell around her neck jingles as Lawson gives her the pets she’s demanding.
“You brought your trailer,” I say flatly.
“Like I said,” Lawson drawls, “you’re coming home.”
“Did you ever stop to think this is my home now?”
Lawson looks over at me, his hair, darker than my own, styled back neatly. His facial hair is trimmed neatly, too, and he’s wearing a lightweight shirt that wouldn’t be out of place if he were teaching instead of here, trying to bodily move me from my house.
“Oakley. You know exactly where your home is, and this isn’t it.”
“I have a job here,” I point out.
“And you’ll always have a job waiting for you at the ranch.”
He’s talking about Darling Ranch, the beef and dairy cattle operation at his childhood home. But whether or not his brother Jackson is willing to hire me back isn’t the point.
Lawson steps through the door, Bell at his heels. She meanders into the kitchen as he returns to my bedroom.
