Page 83 of Then You Happened
Losing the baby was the first piece of hope I lost. A stillbirth at six months when the nursery had already been painted and would remind me of her every time I walked by was more than enough of a reason to lose some.
Then Fletcher bought Ruby, and I thought maybe we could do this. Live this life and make the best of it because . . . what choice did we really have? I mean a Thoroughbred with a Kentucky Derby winner in her blood was just what we needed. At least, that’s what Fletcher told me. We could breed her and sell her foals and make a fortune. I was so ignorant to all the pitfalls in his plan when we bought her, I never considered just how much it would cost in stud fees to make that happen.
Then there was Fletcher’s mass purchase of quarter horses, which unbeknownst to us, had been exposed to the neurological strain of the EVH-1 virus. We lost a third of them to it and the vet bills to keep the remainder alive drained a huge portion of our savings.
Another piece of my hope died with each of them.
The pressure mounted, and from what I know now, the bills did too. Fletcher’s temperament changed and he had violent mood swings more and more often. The excuses. The secrecy.
Each and every one chipped at my hope until I was left with none at all.
Then he died. Died and left me to deal with a non-existent bank account, a mountain of debt, and my name on everything because his credit was ruined from what he said were mistakes with credit cards he made right after he graduated high school.
“Hey,” Jack says. “You okay?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur and take another look at the ranch. The setting sun is lighting up the sky in oranges and pinks and casting a glow over the land I own, over the chaos I’m trying to manage.
“Tate?”
I shake my head and look his way, a soft smile on my lips, the wine making me sleepy and sentimental. “I’m good.”
He gets out of the truck and opens the door for me, and for the briefest of moments, we stand there staring at each other. There’s a neigh of a horse in the distance. A chirp of a bird. A rustle of trees.
But we just stand there, not making a sound.
“I have stuff I need to take care of,” Jack says and hooks a thumb over his shoulder but doesn’t move.
Come inside.
“Yeah. Sure. Me too.”
Please, come inside.
“’Kay,” he murmurs, taking a step in retreat without dropping his attention from my eyes.
I don’t want to be alone right now.
“Good night, Jack.”
“’Night.”
We both stand there, though, facing each other, trying to navigate this newfound situation we’ve put ourselves in.
One I don’t have the slightest clue how to handle.
When all you’ve ever known is relationships and the sex that results from those emotions, how exactly are you supposed to know how to handle the physicality without the rest of it?
Turn and walk, Tate.
One foot in front of the other.
I give Jack one last long look, taking in the sky at his back and the sincerity in his eyes, and then turn on my heel and start heading to my front door.
“Hey, Knox?”
“Yeah?” My pulse races as I turn to look at him, my stomach somersaulting.
“We did well today.” His smile is wide, his eyes quiet.
