Page 117 of Then You Happened
I end the call without saying goodbye.
My sister’s already said enough.
And fuck if ninety percent of it wasn’t true.
44
TATE
The days trudge on.
Hours upon hours of our normal duties but then the added responsibility of keeping four men occupied and out of trouble as the boredom of a small town hits the Steely crew here at Knox Ranch.
Last night, tires crunched down the driveway and headlights were flicked off as not to light up my house at well past two in the morning.
With a five in the morning start time, that isn’t a whole hell of a lot of sleep.
Maybe it’s a good thing that Jack was occupied last night. Maybe the distance will help me to detach myself some from him and the inevitable that is starting to weigh heavier and heavier every time I see him. Sadness has started to creep in with every slash across the calendar day as it passes because each new mark marches us closer to him leaving.
The thoughts and emotions that follow soon after are all-consuming, and I hate it. Hate them.
At the same time, I almost feel as if he’s avoiding me. He has gone from finding ways to pull me into the tack room and steal a kiss to going out of his way not to find the two of us in those situations.
Then again, maybe I’m just overthinking it.
But what he said and the picture he took of me have made more than an impression. I forced myself to print the portrait and frame it. It’s the reminder of where I’ve been, what I’ve been through, and how I survived.
I force myself to focus on the grain I’m mixing instead of the inevitability of him leaving, and I manage to get two batches done before Jack’s shadow crosses in front of the open doors.
“Hey, you got a minute?” I call out.
“Not really.” His feet hesitate for a moment before he starts to walk again.
“Jack!” If my voice makes me sound desperate, it’s because I am.
This time, he stops. His head is hung down for the briefest of seconds before he nods ever so slightly and turns to face me. “What did you need, Tate?” His voice is clipped with impatience as he looks at me from behind his sunglasses, and it bugs me that I can’t see his eyes.
“Nothing . . . I just—we haven’t talked much, and I . . . never mind.”
“I’ve been busy.” Impatience rings in his voice. “What did you need?”
“Nothing. I guess I wanted to make sure we were okay, is all.”
“Perfectly fine. Anything else?”
I stare at him, tears burning in my eyes.
Blame it on PMS or on exhaustion, it doesn’t really matter. “Nope. Not a thing.” I retreat a step before turning on my heel and heading back into the stable to finish what I was doing, hating how stupid and insecure I feel.
“Christ.” I hear him hiss the word and then the crunch of his boots on the gravel as he follows me inside. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s just been a rough couple of days.”
“What happened?” My mind fires to everything on the ranch that could go wrong, which is a long, long list.
“Just shit back home.” He glances my way, and of course, now I feel like a complete ass. I’ve leaned on him, but I don’t know that I’ve ever really let him lean on me. I don’t think I’m a selfish person, but assuming that his distance was because of me sure as hell makes me feel like I’m the most self-centered person on the face of the earth.
“You want to talk about it?”
He looks anywhere but at me. “No. It’s fine.”
