Page 114 of Don't Leave Me Behind
The restof the week slips by with little to nothing going on. I’m so fucking bored I decide to have my mom show me Annie’s office. It’s in a little cottage style building that’s set off from the main house. This is where guests register and meet the staff before getting their room and chore assignments. That’s right. The big city corporate types come in and pay to muck our stalls or groom the horses. It’s a trip.
Annie was meticulous and well organized, two traits I don’t possess but can absolutely appreciate as I set up to take over everything she’d been working on. At mom’s request, she’s left all the logins and passwords for the business accounts. There’s a smartphone left on the desk, too. It must have been a work phone. When I turn it on, the notifications go off for a straight minute before the buzzing settles down.
As far as I know, Annie didn’t manage the inquiries about the retreats. From the looks of it, these notifications are all from social media and comments on the website. I sort through the comments, replying when appropriate, and making sure to like them all. We haven’t posted anything sinceAnnie left, so I scroll through the photos on the phone, looking for something fun to post.
I’ve been following the Ranch Retreats profiles since they started, so I know exactly what vibe I’m going for. I find a photo of a tall woman, with red curly hair, and brand new fancy clothes, beaming at the camera as she bottle feeds a lamb. Selecting the photo, I go with a couple of heart eye emoji and the company’s slogan. “Rest your heart, feed your soul.”
The likes come almost immediately. A few comments about being excited for their upcoming retreats, and I can’t help but smile. This is what being a Kane has always been about. Helping people, far and wide. Dad used to tell us all the time, “We’ve been blessed with what we have, and our goal should be to bless as many people as we can.”
I like that philosophy.
I find several more photos and a few notes from the red-haired woman’s retreat. Pulling open the web developer app, I start a blog post. I get so wrapped up in the story I’m weaving that I don’t even realize Clay is standing in the doorway. He clears his throat to get my attention, and I squeal.
“How long have you been there?”
“A minute.” He grins, stalking toward me like a predator on a mission. He leans down to take my mouth in a hot, messy kiss that leaves me breathless and wanting more. “So, are you taking the job then?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Swiveling back to the desktop, I double-check my article and hit post, hoping it’s not too late for the SEO to do its thing. Clay wheels my chair away from the desk, heading for the door.
“It’s well past quittin’ time, Leni girl, and I’ve got plans for you.”
A little shiver works its way down my spine as I smile at him. “Oh, do you now?”
“I do. So, get your fine ass out of this chair and let’s go for a drive.”
He tucks me into his pickup. Heaviness fills my chest at the thought of all I lost in that wreck. Everything I still had in my Jeep from moving out of my apartment in Benson is gone. My clothes, laptop, and phone. Everything but what I left in the cabin. I was planning for a fresh start, but I never planned to start with nothing.
Clay drives us toward the sevens, turning off the highway onto a prairie trail. This little parcel of land is one of the only sections that’s not connected to the rest of the ranch. We don’t use it for cattle, but do occasionally keep the broodmares out here.
He drives around the pasture until we’re sitting in front of an open plot of land. It’s gorgeous out here. I can’t remember the last time I was here. There’s a little lean-to just outside of the pasture, a paddock attached to it, and two horses grazing within the gates.
“Is that?—”
“Calypso? Yeah, he’s been waiting for you.”
I wait for Clay to get me out of the truck, my fingers itching to pet my old horse. He’s got to be at least twenty years old now, and it’s been far too long since I’ve seen him. He nickers a greeting when I call his name, prancing over toward me. He nudges my shoulder, then lowers his head, sniffing my lap, looking for treats.
He’s a palomino gelding that Brooks trained for me. Well, originally, Brooks had purchased him to train and work cattle on, but Calypso preferred easier trail rides. To Brooks’ horror, some light barrel racing, too. I love him. Every chance I got, I was riding Calypso. Next to him, a blue roan stands swishing his tail, nickering his greeting to Clay.
Clay croons at him, reaching over to give him rubs on hismuzzle. “Hey Mako.” Clay fishes a sugar cube from his pocket, and Calypso ditches me without hesitation to go sniff around Clay. “Here you go, Cal.”
“Clay.” I look out at the land before us. It’s flat, open, and perfect. “Where are we?”
“The broodmare pasture.” He grins, knowing that I already know that. He sighs, scratching Mako under his chin. “This is my spot. Haven’t really needed to build yet, but this is where I chose when Pa asked me what I wanted. It’s part of the land but…”
“Separate,” I whisper. Just like Clay always seems to feel, part of the family, yet somehow outside it. An outlier we never saw as one.
“I thought maybe you’d want to help me figure out the best spot for a house?”
I turn slowly, eyes wide. “A house? You’re going to build a house?”
He shakes his head, leaning down to press a kiss on my lips. “We are going to build a house.”
A tear slips down my cheek, heart in my throat, because hearing him say that is everything. “I’d like that.”
“Good, and I just have one more question,” he says. I pull away, and my heart starts to bang against my chest. I swear to God, if he gets down on one knee while I’m stuck in this goddamn wheelchair, I am going to smack him. “When we do get married, because we will, can I take your last name?”
My heart soars as I launch myself into his arms, knocking him onto his ass as I spill out of the wheelchair. “Yes,” I whisper, smothering him in kisses. “I love you, Clayton ‘Someday’ Kane.”
