Page 48 of Since Day One

I blankly glanced at Marissa and sighed, laying back on the bed and rolling over to face the wall. The normal annoyance that I would feel was absent; she might as well have been a fly on the wall for all I cared.

“Don’t turn your back to me when I’m talking to you,” she snarled, and I felt her hand slam down on my arm, tugging to flip me back around. But she had so little strength in comparison to me that all I did was shrug out of her grip and drop it against my side.

“I don’t get it. All these years and you still haven’t learned.” She clicked her tongue as her two companions snickered again. This time, I rolled back over to face her and sat up.

“No, Marissa. You haven’t learned,” I calmly replied, and began tying a purple wild rag around my neck. Tugging at the final knot, I grabbed a beanie from my suitcase, slipped it over my hair, that was hanging loosely after my shower, and walked toward the door. There, I stepped into my boots, my spurs clinking while I adjusted my pants over top of the square-toe boots. Then I left the bunkhouse without another word.

I had decided that, no matter what happened next with Gunnar, I didn’t have to sit around sulking. That was childish and ridiculous. I could allow myself to mourn the loss of our little escape, but that didn’t have to mean that I couldn’t find joy in the two or so weeks that I still had left here. That was all part of letting go and learning, which Marissa had reminded me of.

Despite everything that had happened, I didn’t need to act like I had been toward my family. I needed to change too. I didn’t have to accept them back into my life, but being the bigger person and no longer allowing them to affect me meant I was in control over my choices.

That sounded easier in my head than it was going to be in reality. The moment I set foot outside the bunkhouse, my father decided to walk out of the bunkhouse next door to mine. I stopped and shoved my hands in my pockets, watching as he cautiously made his way toward me.

“Willow, could we talk?” he asked, his beady eyes downcast. I raised my brows but remained silent, willing to listen, but that was it. He sighed, in likelihood guessing correctly, that was all he was going to get right now. He shifted on his feet and looked over my shoulder. “I know nothing I say will ever fix what happened to you. It seems I’ve made some terrible choices, but I was worried about you in that cabin, so I came the moment I could.” My heart barely believed the sincerity that clung to his words.

“And when that Gunnar fellow spoke to me with that much disrespect, and you defended him, it broke my heart. How could you let a stranger speak to your father that way?” he finished. Puffing out air, the particles hung stiffly in front of me as I shook my head in disbelief at how easily he’d twisted everything to make himself appear the victim.

“You’re the stranger to me, not him,” I replied, my voice empty, and any feeling of hope fleeing.

It had just become as easy as it sounded.

“Excuse me?” he asked in shock.

“Gunnar knows everything. He listened without judgment, and even more so, he believed me. You’ve never asked, and the one time I tried to tell you, you cut me off, denied it, and sent me to bed without dinner because Alex was now mad at me, and Mom said I was lying,” I continued. Disgust curdled upon my father’s face.

“You would’ve never had to worry where your next meal came from if you’d just accepted him,” he snarled, leaning toward me.

“I was seventeen, Dad! And I haven’t had to worry about that for ten years,“ I answered semi-calmly, which made him even more agitated. “And I did that on my own, with people who treat me with love and kindness. People who care about me and support me.”

“I care about you and love you!” he snapped, and I sighed, feeling sympathy for him but not returning the same feelings he was desperately seeking from me. There would be no validation from me.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I replied coolly, realizing that the father I once longed for was not the man standing in front of me. The parents I craved were two people back in Texas who were waiting for me to return safely. Oh, how freeing was this feeling, the weight of guilt lifting from my heart like a balloon. This wonderful sense that I owed not a single person whom I’d once called family a single minute more of my time. I reached down and grabbed a handful of snow. The bitter cold grounding like the wind sweeping across my heart, as I melded the snowball between my hands.

“Please, Willow. You know your mother and I will do better. We need you,” he begged, and I gave him a distant smile.

“But I don’t need you, or her. Please know that I have let go of everything that happened. It no longer has any control over my life, but that doesn’t mean I am willing to simply let you and everyone else back in. I don’t hold a grudge against you or Mom. In fact, I hold nothing at all,“ I finished sternly, laying down my boundaries and feeling a massive weight lift from my shoulders. These people were now merely people I once knew, and that was it; I owed them nothing.

A shrill whistle cut through the air, slicing over whatever my father was going to say. He spun around, and I glanced over his shoulder to see a cowboy on a beautiful blue roan loping my way. Black hat pulled over coppery brown hair, his face trimmed to a nice stubble with a groomed mustache. A pair of chaps over thick legs, spurs dancing against his heels as Luke came closer and closer, leaving beautiful sprinkles of cold snow behind him.

“We’ve got horses to take care of, Princess,” Gunnar said as he brought his horse up beside my father and I, spinning him in a circle as Luke pranced before calming down. My knight in rough leather, rescuing me from a conversation that I was handling quite well. His hazel eyes slid in disgust toward the hawklike man who stood in front of me, his fingers clenching the reins a little tighter beneath his yellow leather gloves.

The wild rag that was tied tight around his thick neck matched the blue fire blazing from his hazel eyes as he raised a strong, threatening brow at my dad. My father took a step back, and I smiled to myself, finding this stand-off a little funny, but also letting it happen. I would never shut down an instance of Gunnar trying to protect me, even when I didn’t need it.

Finally, my father conceded and slunk away toward the lodge, where smoke curled from the chimney. I looked up at Gunnar, who grinned, seemingly very pleased with himself.

“Hi,” I said with a shy smile, and he tipped his hat my way.

“Hey there, cowgirl. You didn’t think you’d get out of chores just ’cause I let you put your hands in my pants, now did you?” he teased, and I blushed.

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone,” I snapped.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Ain’t nobody else around but me and you, Princess.” He gestured around us, and I shook my head, annoyed but happy to see that maybe we would find some sense of normal. But it felt strained, like something was off. Without looking, I took the snowball I’d made, wound back my arm, turned and pitched it with all my might at the bunkhouse. The roar I sent with it was equaled by Marissa’s scream and the slam of the door as it splattered inches from her face, making it doubly rewarding. The hard grin felt frozen on my face when I turned back to Gunnar.

Gunnar furrowed his brows, watching me as I remained standing still, panting, lost in thought. “Strike one,” he said.

“Next time, it’ll be aimed at you, smart ass.” I remarked and pressed my hands tiredly over my face.

“We can pass on today if you want,” he offered. “I bet it was a lot dealing with your dad, and—“

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