Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I don’t want to be alone.
I don’t want her to be dead.
When I climb back into my truck Saturday evening, I tell myself I just need to tell Sully what happened, that Mom is gone and won’t be at work on Monday, but deep down, in the place I try to ignore, I know that’s not the truth. I just want to talk to him, to be close to someone who makes me feel things I’m not supposed to feel.
We found a spot where I can park my truck so it stays hidden from the road. You have to pull down this old, abandoned driveway to find it, but if I follow a trail through the property, I can sneak in around the back of the Sullivan Ranch, toward Sully’s private entrance to the house he shares with his folks.
Just as I’m about to break through the trees, I hear a laugh—a female laugh. I let myself get as close as I can without being seen, hide behind a tree and look toward Sully’s place, to where he sits, the sun setting and a bonfire in front of him, in front of them.
In the chair beside him is Aimee.
She reaches over and sets a hand on his arm, the expression in her eyes too close to how I try not to make mine appear when I’m watching him.
My gut clenches, breathing speeds up, head feeling fuzzy. It shouldn’t matter. Sully and I are nothing. We like to fuck. Hell, I don’t even let him know I like him, but seeing him with her, in this moment, feels like a betrayal.
Logically, I know it’s not, but it’s the wake-up call I need. If it bothers me now, what’s going to happen if I keep this going? If I keep fucking him and laughing with him, then hating myself for it afterward.
Sully will always come out on top, and just like everyone else in my family, I’ll always be alone.
I might as well cut my losses before it’s too late.
Sunday morning I call Sully’s dad, tell him about my mom and quit my job. Sully tries to call me, but I don’t answer, and when he comes to my house, I don’t open the door.
Mom is being cremated. It’s cheaper, and it’s what she wanted anyway. I spend the time between that and when I get her ashes, packing up the rental we’ve lived in for years, keeping what I want and getting rid of the rest. As soon as everything is done, I’m in my truck and leaving Laurel Springs for good, knowing I’ll never see this place again, and pretending I don’t feel the weight in my gut as I go.
Chapter 1
Bishop
Eleven years later
“You ready?” I ask Midnight as I saddle him. His snort sounds like a smirk, and I pat the white stripe on his neck affectionately. He’s getting up there for a horse, but just like the rest of us, enjoys feeling useful. He’s been with me through thick and thin, works as hard as the rest of us, sometimes riding for long hours with scarcely a rest or water break.
The ranch hands accompanying me are waiting near the paddock, seemingly ready for the next grueling forty-eight hours. We’ve been through this before—the outbreak of a cattle virus, this time Q fever, which was detected after two calves were stillborn. To slow the spread, we’re leaving the pregnant cows behind and moving the rest of the herd to greener pastures just beyond the gorge. We’ll need to pass through the valley, which will take the better part of the day, but they’ll like their new surroundings because the brush is greener.
“Bishop,” Dad calls to me just as I’m about to mount Midnight outside the barn. “You be careful out there.”
And he doesn’t just mean from the elements. It’s possible Q fever can spread to humans too if we don’t take precautions while handling the herd. Just part of ranch life.
“Always.” I adjust the scabbard holding my rifle near Midnight’s flank. The ranch hands also carry shotguns for protection, especially on longer journeys. You never know if you’ll run into trouble with snakes, wolves, or thieves. The cattle industry is lucrative, our family has certainly done well for generations, and a handful of smaller ranches covet what we have, no two ways about it. Stealing our main source of income is not out of the question, despite our cattle being branded and the entire county knowing full well most of the black angus livestock belongs to us.
Dad will be staying to meet the vet who will check the pregnant cows to be sure the fetuses are still thriving. I can see the worry lines around his eyes. He’s always concerned about the cattle and horses, but in a time like this, his stress level is through the roof. The cost of any more stillborn calves will no doubt be keenly felt.