Page 88 of Cattle Stop

“There’s a cabin we rent out to staff sometimes.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Cheryl says.

“I won’t.”

“Then I’ll look forward to having you here.”

Finally, Cooper thinks. He smiles against the pang in his chest as he looks around the barnyard. “Yeah, me too.”

* * *

Drew holds the chain for the fence just out of reach. “No.”

Cooper says, “Drew—”

“I can finish your room. I know I’ve been making a ton of cheese, but you won’t have to share with Whit anymore so—”

“The account with the market is all set. Elaina might have some contacts for other places, too, so call and check in with her, okay? And I’m leaving you the number for the shop down in the city.”

“But Cooper—”

“Don’t let Whit tear down all the fences I just put up. You know he wants to.”

“Or you’ll come back and fix them?”

“Or you’ll have cows running all over the damn place.”

“Fuck you, Cooper, you can’t just up and leave,” Drew says.

“I’ll remind you I swung by to say hi—what was it?—oh, months ago now.” Cooper grabs the chain and slings it around the fence post to close the gate. “Listen, the next couple days, toss some grain out into the lane here, okay? The cows’ll get used to the different routine, but they might need some encouragement in the beginning.”

“I’m going to let all the air out of your tires.”

“I hate to break the bad news to you, but there’s an air compressor in the shop.” Cooper steps closer. “Look, pay Whit more, okay? This is crazy for me to be here and you trying to split wages between us.”

Drew’s cheeks flush red. “I can pay you both. I’ll make it work, I—”

“Stop. You’d be running the farm with one hand tied behind your back if I tried to stay, and I don’t need you to do that. Get this place into a good spot, okay? And pay Whit what he’s worth. I’ll deny it to my grave if you tell him I said this, but he’s not half-bad.” Cooper taps his finger against Drew’s forehead. “Now remember, never, ever repeat that. I gotta go pack.”

Inside, Cooper grabs a pair of work gloves off the shelf above the woodstove, but no, they must be Whit’s, since they’re a size too big for his hands. Gently, he sets them back down as neatly as he can.

“Tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” Penny says, her hands on her hips. “You’ve just been suddenly struck by the urge to finally tidy up your shit?”

“Gotta get while the getting’s good.”

“Farm reg thirteen point four—”

“States I never hang around that long and it’s been ages, agreed?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Cooper says.

And hell if that isn’t the truth. Exactly, utterly nothing happened. It’s his own goddamn fault for wishing it would, like he could just hope a future into existence.

Packing takes all of five minutes. Toothbrush, his handful of clothes, his phone charger. He strips the sheets off his bed, leaves the quilt folded and the pillow set against the headboard. Go, go, go, he chants in his head as he bundles the sheets into a ball and tosses his towel on top of them, like any hesitation will break this spell, have him sitting on the edge of his mattress, listless and uncertain.