Page 11 of Bad & Bossy

“How have you been?”

“Me? What about you?” I chuckled. “I still haven’t met Brody. He’s, what, seven months? How’s Hunter? The ranch? The company?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she laughed. “Brody is almost exactly seven months. Two more days until he hits that milestone.”

“And Hunter?”

“He’s good. Exhausted. He’s been an absolute dream with Brody, letting me have the last week off of nighttime duties so I’m trying to return the favor,” she sighed. “We’ve both been wildly busy with work but honestly, I’m… I’m really happy.”

“That’s good, Lots.”

“And you?”

“I… yeah. You know your friend is working for me?”

The end of the line went silent except for a quiet little coo. “Shit. She does. I didn’t even think about that.”

“That was a fun discovery,” I snorted. Pulling a shitty ready meal out of the freezer, I chucked it into the microwave. “She’s not happy about it.”

“I imagine not.” Lottie huffed as Brody’s little coos started to turn more into cries again. “For fuck’s sake. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I don’t know how long he’ll be like this.”

“That’s alright.”

“You should come out to the ranch sometime. Meet Brody. Horses can be very therapeutic, you know.” The wails grew louder, angrier.

“I will.”

“Bye, Cole.”

“Bye.”

————

A microwave meal on the balcony of my expansive home at two in the morning was certainly a new form of rock bottom.

At least I wasn’t drunk.

The wind whistled through the trees as the stars hung brilliantly above, blocked out only by the outlines of the mountains. I lifted spoonful after spoonful of macaroni and cheese and overcooked chicken with gravy into my mouth, wishing more than anything it was the lip of a bottle instead.

The house was far too large and I was far too small. I hadn’t even begun to crack into the stashes of bottles throughout the property. I’d still be finding them for months, and I knew damn well that every single one would be a test.

I felt the imprint of my medallion and let out a sigh.

There had been so many times over the years that I wished I could turn back the clock and stop time before any of it started or changed my behavior, but now more than ever, it loomed over me like a giant raincloud. I wished I could take it all back. Every person I’d hurt, every event I’d ruined, the damage I’d done to myself and others…

I glanced down at my right palm, zoning in on the little scar from the shards of glass that morning with Dana. I wished I could take that back, too.

Is there a world where we could have worked?

The more I stared at it, the more it morphed into the split-open skin and blood.

Would she give me a second chance?

Surely not.

An alert from my doorbell camera buzzed on my phone, someone had triggered it. For a short, split second, I wondered if it could be her. If she’d heard where I’d been and wanted to talk. But the face on the live video feed was someone else entirely, someone I knew far too well.

“What are you doing here?” I laughed down the phone, pushing my way into the house and through the maze of corridors toward the front door. Shoulder-length black hair, a stout frame, a shorter stature than me. My sober companion, my friend from the last six months. A chaotic man with a chip on his sleeve. A brightness in a sea of clouds. Somehow, he was exactly the person I needed.

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