I glance in the mirror and watch him – his shirt damp, forearms flexed, eyes scanning the line of cattle as if they’re chess pieces.
How in the hell does one man run this place alone?
By the time we finish the loop, the grain’s gone and so is most of my energy.I shift into neutral and kill the engine.
Luke jumps down from the tray, dusts off his jeans and grins at me through the window.
‘Didn’t stall,’ he says.
‘Didn’t die,’ I say back.
We both smile.
TWENTY-EIGHT
By the time we make it back to the house, the sky is one giant oil painting made up of smears of pink and orange and soft blue that stretch across the horizon.Everything smells of dust and cattle as the sun lowers.
Luke heads towards the stables to feed the horses and dogs while I make a beeline for the shower then pull on the comfiest clothes I can find – loose track shorts and my last clean t-shirt that says ‘Mediocre at Best’ across the chest.
When I shuffle into the kitchen, I find a tray of pre-made lasagne in the freezer and slide it into the oven.While it starts to heat, I toss together a salad with the enthusiasm of someone who would rather be making cocktails but who is trying to be a functioning adult.
Outside, I hear Luke whistling while the dogs bark and the world turns amber and quiet.
I glance at my phone.
Big mistake.
Twelve missed calls.
Three from my sister.Six from Abbey.One from my hairdresser, weirdly.And the rest?Probably an unpaid phone bill, or the universereminding me that city life is still sitting there, pouting, waiting for me to come back.
Then come the texts.
Abbey:
Bitch, wtf?
Ella told me everything.You better give me all the juicy
details when you get back
Are you coming back?
Alright, if you don’t answer me then I’m breaking into your
apartment and taking back that retinol serum I gave you
I huff a laugh and text back:
Joke’s on you, I brought the retinol with me
I’ll call you later x
Then one from Ella, sweet and cautious.
Hope everything’s ok?
I reply with a simple:
