My chest does this weird squeezing thing. I walk back to the bedroom, wondering what the hell that’s about.
These aren’t my kids. They’re hers, but for some reason, I’m finding myself worrying about them.
It’s disconcerting, especially when we’ve both said we want to be friends.
I slide into bed beside her, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her up against me. She’s asleep now, her even breaths coming in short little puffs.
I close my eyes, trying to find rest, but I’m wide awake. I want to fix this. I want to make it go away for her.
But there’s really only one way I could make that happen, and if I did that, I don’t know if her or the boys would ever forgive me.
The next day, we repeat the same pattern. I do ranch work close to the house, Dallas plays with the boys outside, and at night, we have rough sex. She needs a short break, but insists I keep going after a few minutes. I feel like shit about it, but she insists it’s helping her overcome the trauma. She falls asleep immediately after, and again, I don’t ask about what happened in her marital bed to make her have a panic attack every time we have sex.
When her parents get into town the following day, she starts staying in the bunkhouse with Eden. I don’t question why, but I’m disappointed she’s not with me.
I know she’s meeting with her lawyer and trying to figure out what her next steps should be. I don’t want to hover, but I’ve tried to make it clear that I’m here for her if she needs me.
I try to keep myself busy. One of our cows gets stuck during birth, and I have to pull the calf out of her. I was too late, and the calf is already dead. The mama might die, too, but I bring her food and water to see if she can survive, lying where she is in the field.
Holden texts me to let me know he’s taking care of a clogged watering hole and overseeing a group of the ranch hands moving some cattle to a new field where the grass has grown long enough to eat. I don’t talk to anyone.
After three days, I finally work up the courage to go knock on the door of the bunkhouse after work. I’m still dirtyfrom moving some hay bales out in the field, but I can’t wait any longer.
Eden answers the door. She smiles warmly at me, her baby belly sticking out as she stands there, the wind blowing her wispy golden hair around her face.
“Hey, Duke.”
“Hey, Eden. Is Dallas here?”
“She’s getting ready.”
“Oh. Ready for what?”
She frowns. “She said she had a date.”
My throat suddenly feels tight. I step back when I see Dallas walking toward the door. She’s dressed in a pretty purple sundress and sandals. Her curly blond hair is loose around her shoulders. She’s gorgeous, as always, her pink lips shimmery with lip gloss.
When her eyes meet mine, she stops, blinking. “Hey. What’s up?”
Eden steps aside, moving into the kitchen. Dallas walks out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. Her jasmine-and-vanilla scent reaches me, and I try not to inhale.
“I just came to check on you. See what’s happening, if the boys are good.”
She nods, but her eyes grow sad. “They’re with my parents.”
“Cool.”
“I’m, uh … my ex hired a lawyer.”
I grit my teeth. “Did he?”
“Yeah, it’s looking like we’ll be going to court to fight this out. He’s not agreeing to anything Iwant, so …”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Dallas.”
