Page 32 of Unruly

Another silence—longer this time.

“Fine,” she says.

“Follow me,” I say, leading her to a pull-off about a quarter mile up. It’s a wide gravel shoulder at the top of a rise where the land falls away on one side and you can see the whole valley laid out below. I’ve been coming here since I was old enough to ride. The view is the kind that makes you remember the ranch is worth something beyond the work it takes to run it.

We pull in, kill the engines, and she takes her helmet off first. Her hair tumbles out and she shakes it loose but doesn’t look at me while she does it. I take mine off, hang it on the handlebar, and watch her, without trying to pretend otherwise.

She turns around. The evening light is doing something to her face, the valley is behind her, and I’m standing here, trying to be a reasonable person, and it’s taking a genuine effort.

“Five minutes,” she says. “Talk.”

I open my mouth.

She holds up a hand.

“Actually, let me go first.” She crosses her arms. “I need you to hear me on this, Cash. What happened at the party was a mistake. What almost happened at The Bar would also have been a mistake. I need you to stop coming in every night like you’re waiting for something because there’s nothing to wait for.”

I don’t say anything.

“There are a hundred girls in this county who would trip over themselves to be whatever you want them to be. Go find one of them. Go find someone your own age who doesn’t come with a failed marriage and more baggage than your truck can carry. I fucking mean it. Your charm won’t work on me. Leave this alone. And if you can’t do that, then you’re going to go find somewhere else to drink. I’ll talk to Aunt Aria and Uncle Matt and threaten to quit if I have to. And that’s the end of it.”

She’s bluffing; I can tell.

“Liar,” I say. “Aria would kill me if she found out I was why you quit.”

Something flickers across her face. “That’s not my problem.”

“It’s a little bit your problem. She’s low-key terrifying. C’mon, Halle.”

She almost smiles again, but she’s fighting it.

“Halle.” I take one step toward her. Just one. “I’m not asking you to blow up your life. I’m asking you to let me take you to dinner.”

“No.”

“One dinner.”

“No, Cash.”

“Not even⁠—”

“No.” She says it a third time, and it lands different the third time. “Don’t make me say it again.”

I look at her for a long second.

“Find a girl your own age,” she says quietly. “Please.”

I know she means it, and there’s something in her face when she says it that isn’t just about protecting herself, it’s about protecting me too. Like she genuinely believes she’d be bad for me and is trying to save me from finding out why.

But I’ve never needed saving from anything.

I’m not starting now.

“I hear you,” I say.

She studies me. “Do you?”

“Yeah.”