This morning, however, feels similar to the last time this happened; the only real difference is that I made it upstairs. He didn’t stay, he didn’t wait to see me the next morning, and just like that, we’re back to square one.
It’s frustrating, and at this point, I hate to say it, but I’m feeling used. For him to act as he did, seeing me dance with someone else at the party made me think that behind that broody exterior was a guy who actually had feelings.
I guess I was wrong.
Or maybe I just wanted to believe there was more to him than there actually is.
As soon as I get dressed, I head out for a walk to clear my head before I spiral. Gage is out of sight, which right now is a good thing. I think being away from him will allow me to figure out what to do next.
Neither one of us anticipated this thing happening between us because, for all we knew, we didn’t even like each other.
Well, I didn’t have a reason not to like him when we first met, but he made it easy not to with the way he treated me.
Now, things are different.
I still can’t stand him, but not for the same reasons I had before. Now, I can’t stand him for how confusing he has made things. He keeps taking two steps forward and ten steps back.
It’s like the moment he drops his walls, he realizes what he’s done and quickly builds them up before I can get through them. I just wish I knew why.
As I walk along the property line of the newly placed fence, the sun slowly rises beyond the horizon. I think this is what I will miss the most when I go back to Austin: the quiet stillness of the sunrise out here.
Back home, I know it’s morning when horns are honking down below my apartment building downtown.
I turn to walk along the line, then stop short when I see it. I step closer and sure enough, the newly placed wiring around the posts Gage and I laid out earlier this week is cut completely down the middle.
But how?
We haven’t had any storms since that last one, and no one has been around the property aside from the ranch hands, Gage, and me.
Sure, Gage’s aunt showed up the other day, but from what I know, she didn’t come out this far on the property. And I highly doubt she’d do anything to the fence.
I take a closer look and gently tug the pieces of wire closer, careful not to cut my fingers on it as it scrapes against my skin. It’s a clear break, which can only mean one thing: someone intentionally cut it clean through.
The question is, why?
I need to tell Gage about this immediately. If he or the ranch hands send the cattle out on the pasture, they will get out within minutes. The only reason they haven’t yet is that they’re in the barn getting assessed for their health and milk production.
It’s smart, and honestly if they weren’t already doing it, I would have suggested it myself.
I’ve been on a few assignments to ranches in the past while getting my degree in environmental science, and Hollis Ranch is certainly the most organized and clean ranch I’ve ever seen at this scale.
I know Gage is all about just doing the work and worrying less about the paperwork, but I think that may be why he can stand by all the products they produce without hesitation.
He leans on his strengths, and I can appreciate that, but I also lean on mine, and if I weren’t so observant, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed this cut.
I walk up the hill quickly and peek into the large barn where the cattle are. Gage and Hank are huddled over a clipboard, talking and scanning the cows. I walk over to them nervously.
How will Gage react when I tell him? We’ve been on shaky ground since the very beginning, but after yesterday, I’m starting to see things shift. I know he doesn’t fully trust me yet, but surely he can’t mistrust me enough to ignore this.
Hank looks up. “Well, good morning, Miss Carter,” he says, tipping his hat to me. I smile softly at him as Gage glances up carefully, then away just as fast.
He looks back down at the clipboard like it’s safer there. “Check Maple, June, and Winter, and see if their productionis up to date. They were looking a little low last week. We’ve got to make sure they’re doing alright,” Gage tells Hank, who nods as he’s handed the clipboard.
Hank looks back at me. “Ranching doesn’t stop when this guy’s around. I’ll be seeing you,” he says, chuckling as he points to Gage with his thumb. He walks away, and I stand by Gage silently, rooted in place.
This is awkward. —so awkward.
Why is this so awkward? No, I know why immediately. Because we’ve had sex twice and we haven’t talked about what it means.
