I stare at my phone so long that the screen goes dark, and then I let it fall from my fingers to my chest. Everything aches. Everything. But mostly my heart.
I was close. So close. I did all the right things. Why can’t I just get up?
Just fucking get up.
I just want things to be easy. I want to sit across from Luca. I want to look him in the eye. I want this fucking weight gone. I want it so badly that it aches, but my body won’t fucking cooperate.
I glare at my arm, willing it to move. Willing it to throw the blankets off me so I can stand. Nothing happens. I’d beg if I had to. I’d plead. I’d cry and wish and want. But it won’t matter.
It doesn’t matter how hard I want things. It doesn’t matter how much I wish for them to be different; they won’t. I’m stuck in my useless fucking body. In this useless fucking prison.
My back is killing me from lying in the same position. I should at least roll over and try to get more comfortable. But I can’t even will my body to do that, so I give up instead.
Threedayslater,somethinginside me shifts. I get out of bed. I stumble to the bathroom, pissing measly drops of urine before drinking water from the faucet with my hands, gulping until I’m sure I’m about to throw up. It’s so cold that it hurts my teeth, and I realize I can’t remember the last time I brushed them. I’m not sure I should risk using any of my already waning energy on trying, though, so I don’t even bother.
Resting my forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink, I breathe in deeply. My lungs feel better. Not great, not perfect, but better. Dragging in each breath doesn’t feel like it’s taking everything I’ve got.
Ignoring my reflection the way I always do, I step back into the bedroom, ready to disappear into my bed when I trip over something. Glancing down, I stare at the suitcase still open on my floor. Just waiting for me. To close it. To walk past it. To pick it up and carry it out of this shitty apartment. To pretend it doesn’t exist while I give in to my body’s need for sleep.
Without allowing myself time to think, I drop to my knees in front of it and close it. I grab my phone and send Luca a text, ignoring all the ones he sent me after the first one I saw.
Me
I’m on my way.
Chapter 2
Hunter
Thedoorofthebarn sticks when it’s cool, and if there’s one thing true about Silverpine, it’s that early April mornings are still cool.
I grip the handle and shove the door with my shoulder, grinning when it creaks open. There’s an art to it. I guess I’m just glad I perfected it as a kid. Makes for easier mornings.
As soon as I step into the barn, Lila starts wailing. “Oh, yes. I know, you’re so hungry.”
She bleats at me, her dark eyes staring into my soul. I open the gate to her little enclosure, and when I sit down in the hay, waving the bottle in the air, she trots over to me. Baby goats are adorable, even if they are a lot of work.
“Come here, baby,” I murmur, hoisting her into my arms with practiced ease, and tease the edge of her mouth with the nipple. “That’s the good stuff, huh?”
She’s going ham on the bottle, drinking like we didn’t do this at 3:30 this morning and at 11:00 p.m. before that. It’s no bother. I enjoy it. I just wish we hadn’t lost her momma.
Lila drinks her bottle in record time. “You were a hungry girl, weren’t ya?”
When she’s done, she climbs off my lap, hopping and jumping around in the hay. She’s cute as shit. I’d probably sneak her into the house with me if Mom wouldn’t have my ass for it.
With a sigh, I stand up, brushing the dirt and hay off the back of my pants before checking on Lila’s heat lamp and her water. After I give her a pat on the head, I head back out into the crisp spring air.
It’s going to be a busy day, and I’ll need to be back in here in a few hours for another feed.
Before now, I worked as a sheriff’s deputy. But when my dad passed away unexpectedly three months ago, I quit so my mom wouldn’t have to handle the farm all on her own. It’s harder working here than I remember it being when I was a kid, but it’s worth it to help her. Especially since she’s still grieving. Hell, since we both are.
I stop at the chicken coop, pulling my hat off to use as an egg holder, before letting the girls out for the day. I’ll have to swap out their water, but it can wait until later.
For now, I’m gonna head in for breakfast.
“Morning, Mom,” I say as I walk through the side door of the house that leads into the kitchen.
“Hey, hun. You doing alright?”
