Page 16 of Unstable

Wishing like hell I would’ve found Gatlin.

I throw the truck into park and the door open even harder, stomping toward the fence with the angry blaze of a thousand suns pulsing through me.

Keaton Fucking Cash. In the flesh, leaning on my fence, toting a smirk I want to smack right off his face.

I knew it, the minute Donna mentioned his name and I was dumb enough to repeat it, he’d appear…like fucking Beetlejuice.

“Well, well, well, looks like the hen’s come home to roost,” he chuckles through the lame variation of his age-old taunt. Of course that’s the first thing he’d say, been using the same, worn-out “hen” plays off my name since the day I met him.

“Really? Eight years and you still think it’s funny?” I rally, locked and loaded with belittlement.

“Feisty as ever too, I see.” His eyes, an icy blue—like his soul—don’t flare with the excitement of a verbal spar…of which we’ve had plenty.

And that pisses me off even worse than if they had, because he’s holding back, and I know why. I don’t want, or deserve, pity from anyone, but when it comes to Keaton? I’ll literally jab his eyes out with a hot cattle prod if I see a hint of sympathy in them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing on my land?” I shove his arm off my fence. “You have five seconds to get across that river onto your own property before I jump in my truck and run your sorry ass over.”

“It’s good to have you back, Hen. Been waitin’ far too long.” Smug bastard reaches out and taps the end of my nose before I see it coming, and can accordingly, rip his hand off. “Hate the reason, and I’m damn sorry for it. I tried, Hen, I swear. I tried like hell to save them.” His brow folds, but he has the good sense to look at the ground. “But all the same, right or wrong, I’m happy you’re finally home.”

What? Why’s he happy I’m here? We hate each other. And what’s he mean he tried to save them?

Seems the officers left out some key elements to the story they gave me. And damn it…now that he’s said it, I have to ask.

Which means, I’m going to have to stomach my way through an actual conversation with the man who’s always been my arch nemesis.

The universe is seriously testing my abilities today, but here goes nothing. Deep breath in, shaky exhale out.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, as reasonably as my aggravated curiosity will allow.

“We can talk, probably should, but later.” He gazes past my shoulder and chuckles. “Bourbon looks like he could use some help. You did want to move the cows out of this field right?”

“No, Keaton. I was bored and thought I’d come play ‘tag’ with ‘em for a little while.”

“Then you’re doing a helluva job, ‘cause they’re fixin’ to tag ya back.”

What’s he blathering about now? I turn and look…but refuse to sigh or show any sign of defeat…that some of the cows, are in fact, wandering back into the field I just shooed them out of.

Really? I seem to remember—open the gate to where the food is—they’ll go. So why they’re not cooperating now, in what has to be the first time since Noah let two of them on the Arc, has to be some weird conspiracy just to embarrass me in front of Keaton.

“Let me help you,” he says too kindly, moving to do so before I can refuse.

He uses his hat to swipe at the few remaining anarchist cows, sending them on their way. And Lord knows why, but I take a moment to peruse him…see just exactly how he turned out, physically anyway.

Hair still as black as the Stetson in his hand, jeans still as tight as he’s always played his cards to his chest. Every movement precise and purposeful, nothing wasted, just like he’s always been: good at everything.

Except recognizing value in the most valuable.

Back in the day, he’d been the boy to watch. A football star, a rodeo champ…and watch them they did—every girl in town.

Well, every girl except me, in that way. Oh, I always kept one eye on him, but not for myself. No, my interest in Keaton had always been one of pro-active precaution. Because she thought she loved him…and I loved her.

Not to mention, I had Merrick…well, I thought I did, and there was certainly no love lost between the two of them. They hated each other. So I often had to be discreet, but anytime we were at the same place he was… Keaton stayed in my scrutinous sight.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His gloating drags my thoughts back to the present.

The field is now empty, all the cows on the other side of the closed gate and Bourbon taking a break in the bed of my truck.

Wasn’t hard for me at all, I didn’t do anything. Besides stand here like a helpless fool, thinking on days better left forgotten.

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