Page 62 of Cattle Stop

“Soon, yeah.” Fuck. He shoves his hair back. “No, yeah, I—actually, speaking of commitment, I’m working at a dairy in New York right now, and so—”

He can hear his own breathing, interrupted finally by Cheryl asking, “So?”

“I think I’d have to let you know about when I could start.”

She sighs in a rush of static. “Then I’m not entirely sure I can hold a position for you.”

“Yeah. No, of course. But, uh, commitment-wise, well, it’s really the exact opposite of just cutting and running from a job—the, well he’s sort of the manager here, Whit just got hurt, and it’d be pretty awful to split right now. He can’t really work. I wouldn’t want to leave them in a tough spot, you know?”

“Well, why don’t you give me a call back when you’re the one who knows. Bye, Cooper.”

“Bye,” he murmurs and his phone beeps as she ends the call.

Well, fuck. That was less than ideal. Commitment, he hears in Cheryl’s voice. He’ll…figure something out. Try to hammer out a timeline for the work he wants to get done. Maybe talk to Drew. Though, as soon as he thinks it, he knows he won’t.

So there goes his Oregon plan, in all probability. He’ll find something else. He always does. Lots of experience, he thinks and tries to grin.

“That the boss?” Whit asks when Cooper pushes their door open.

“What the hell are you doing to your bandage?”

“It’s annoying.”

“Then stop picking at it.”

“Thank you for the reference, you mean.”

Call her back and tell her I can commit to things, Cooper wants to ask of Whit, but it’d just earn him a cool look. Whit would only too happily call Cheryl back and tell her what he really thinks, thinly veiled hints at Cooper who “knows how to be on time.” Fuck. He tosses his phone onto the nightstand.

“She’s indescribably happy to have me,” he says instead.

“You leaving?”

Yes, he could so easily say. Dial Cheryl’s number, apologize, and promise to be out there as quick as could be. “Nah, she gave me a while. I think the universe wants me to enact my grand plans around here.” I think I just lost a job, more like. He puts on a smile.

“Is that what’s going on?”

“Obviously.”

Whit lifts his eyes to the ceiling, still adjusting his bandage, and says, “Yeah, obviously.”

“What’re you doing to that? Stop it.”

“It’s sore.”

“Yeah, ’cause you sliced it open,” Cooper says. “That’s what happens. Stop messing with it.”

“It’s nice that you’re staying.” Whit edges the bandage down a half an inch and flexes his hand. “I mean, for Drew.”

“Well, I said I would.” Cooper winces as Whit works a finger at the gauze. Fucking commitment. “If you’re going to pick at it—Jesus, Whit, stop, or I’ll send you back to the hospital to get them to do your good hand, too.”

“Rewrap it?” Whit grabs a roll of bandage from the top of the dresser. “Not as tight.”

“The doctor didn’t do it to your specifications? I’m shocked. Absolutely shocked, I tell you.”

“Tell it to the cows.”

“Sit,” Cooper says. “Or I really am going to send you back to the hospital for stitches for your mouth.”