Page 88 of His Eighth Ride

Maybe we should go out before then, Mission sent. Restaurants around here aren’t The Margarita, but they keep a man alive from time to time.

I’d love to, Rachelle said, and a glow started in Mission’s chest.

Great, he said. Are you available this weekend? It was only Tuesday, and Mission could go earlier, as he didn’t work in the evenings, usually. The farm had been planted, and now they were dealing with fence repair, machinery issues, and rebuilding the decks on a few of the cabins in the community where Mission lived.

I sure am, Rachelle said. Friday or Saturday.

Let’s do Friday, he said. Tell me what you like, and I’ll get a reservation.

About the only thing I don’t like is sushi, she said. Mission half-scoffed and half-laughed.

“Good,” he typed as he spoke. “Sushi shouldn’t be consumed this far inland, and I’d be worried if you loved it.”

He continued flirting with Rachelle until he had to get back to work, and then he returned his attention to the porch at the homestead. Opal and Molly had vacated it at some point, and Mission lamented the fact that he hadn’t been able to see Opal leave. Why, he wasn’t sure. He had zero chance with her, and he needed to get past this crush. Quickly.

“And you’ve got a date with someone else,” he told himself. “And you’re excited about it.” And he was. So he pushed away from the fence post, turned over to the stables, and went to get the horses ready for their walking and riding lessons.

twenty-eight

Tag entered the barn and found Steele taking Rooster out of the stall. “Gonna take him today?”

“He’s been good out in the fields,” Steele said. “So yeah.” He flashed a smile at Tag and added, “Oh, and Gerty’s having a welcome-home dinner for Opal tonight.”

Tag, who’d started to move toward the tack room so he could get out the other horses who needed to be worked today, stopped completely. “What? It’s Tuesday, and Opal’s not back until Thursday.”

“She’s coming in early,” Steele said. “I guess. I don’t know. That’s just what Gerty said this morning when I was at the farmhouse.” He took Rooster down the aisle and out the door, all while Tag stood stock-still, trying to understand what he’d heard.

And who he’d heard it from. “Steele,” he scoffed. “I have to hear about my girlfriend’s early return to town from Steele.” Jealousy and anger combined inside him in a way he didn’t enjoy and didn’t want. He pulled out his notebook and flipped to his spot in it.

Opal came home early without telling me. This upsets me, and I’m not sure why.

I know she doesn’t like Steele, and it’s not like she told him.

But it still hurts to find out from him, as if he’s more important than me.

He looked up from his scribbling, glad he had this outlet to bleed out the negative emotions when he felt them.

Does she think I won’t find out?

Does she think I’m going to appreciate being the last to know?

What does she have planned?

The last question in black pen and Tag’s handwriting stared back at him, demanding an answer. Opal was smart and savvy, rich and powerful. She could have almost anything she wanted, and almost anything planned too. Simply being in another state wouldn’t stop her.

“You spoke your mind with her last week,” he reminded himself. “You can do the same thing when you see her.” He didn’t need to be the one in charge all the time, but he wanted his feelings to matter too. He wanted to be her equal in every way, and while that might never happen, he wanted her to know that he had merit too.

He flipped back several pages and started reading through some of his lists, his thoughts, his demons. Yes, he’d talked about Opal in here, and he didn’t feel bad about it. He wasn’t a robot, and his feelings were valid.

For a moment, he flashed back to his relationship with Talina, and how he’d bent over backward and done everything she’d told him, everything she wanted, every single thing in his life had been dictated by her. He didn’t want a relationship like that.

He went back to his empty pages and started writing again. My feelings matter too. I want a relationship of give and take.

Compromise is fine, as long as I have a voice.

As long as I don’t disappear.

Tag paused, then flipped the notebook closed. “I don’t want to disappear again,” he said. He’d done that once, and it wasn’t the life or type of relationship he wanted to have. It had taken him months to come back to himself, to realize his worth, and to remember he was a valued human being, a son of the Almighty God, and worthy of being recognized as such.

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