Page 12 of Rope Me In

I grab my pitchfork again and go back to mucking just as Blake’s chocolate-brown curls come into view outside of Willy’s stall.

“Kade, you’re here!” She smiles, her warm eyes making contact with mine.

“I’m here,” I say.

She chuckles, Gavin standing at her side with his arms crossed over his chest. I try not to roll my eyes, but it’s damn hard not to when he looks at me like that, as if he’s so much better than me. Like he’s my dad or some shit.

Blake, her gaze flitting warily between us, says, “Heard it was busy at Night Hawk and Jake had to use one of the Corbin boys as a bouncer.”

“Yeah, it was a packed house. I guess people were excited I was back for line dancing.”

“As they should be. You’re the best of the best.”

I tilt the corner of my mouth up. “Thanks. It was fun.”

“I’m glad. Well, I just wanted to check in and make sure you had breakfast. Gavin and I decided to splurge and grab something from The Diner for all of us. He went to ask you if you wanted anything, but you weren’t in your room and your phone was off.”

“Thanks, but I got up early and ate. No need to worry about me.”

Blake’s forehead creases, and I can tell she wants to comment, probably say something about how she’ll always worry about me because she cares about how I feel, especially after saving me that night at Devil’s Rock. But she doesn’t, because Blake understands me in a way my brother doesn’t.

We’ve both experienced grief and extreme trauma, her more so than me after witnessing her younger brother’s tragic death five years ago. More than anyone, except maybe Jake, she doesn’t judge me.

She nods. “Good. I don’t want you to go hungry.” Her phone timer goes off then, and she takes it out of her pocket. “I’ve got a phone call with a potential new hire to help us with some ranch chores in five minutes. But before I go, is everything good with you? I didn’t get a chance to check in after your appointment on Friday. Gavin gave me the bullet points, but I want to hear it from your mouth.”

I pat my chest and give her the best smile I can muster. “All clear.”

She moves so fast, I hardly have time to react. She steps into the stall, throws her arms around me, and squeezes. I’m still holding the pitchfork awkwardly to the side, but she doesn’t seem to care. “I’m so glad, Kade.”

After a few seconds, my body relaxes. I can’t help but let my guard down a bit with Blake—she cares about me too damn much for her own good. It has my heart squeezing in my chest. That familiar pain in my sternum smarts to the point I want to rub it again like I did at the doctor’s office.

Fuck. I don’t deserve someone like her in my life, someone who cares so much about a screw-up like me. I pull back, my sinuses stinging with unwanted emotion. Her own eyes shine with tears as she shoots me a knowing look.

After clearing her throat, she says, “I’ll leave you boys to it.” She kisses Gavin on the cheek then walks down the barn aisle toward an old tack room we set up as an office for us to use. My brother watches her leave like the fool in love that he is, and I use the moment to collect myself.

I fork a pile of Willy’s shit into the muck bucket and turn my back to Gavin, my attempt at telling him to fuck off. I’m hoping it sends a clear message that I don’t want to talk about what happened last night. But I know my brother, and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It only takes the sound of the office door clicking closed for him to step into the stall with me, shavings crunching beneath his boots.

When he stops directly in front of where I’m working, I have no choice but to look up at him. His arms are still crossed over his chest, biceps bulging. With Blake gone, he has his “big brother mode” turned all the way on, and I know we’re about to get in a fight.

I lock my jaw, hands flexing around my pitchfork. I’ve been avoiding this confrontation since our conversation on the phone after my appointment, but I guess it’s time to face it.

“Can I help you with something, Gav?” I ask after a minute of his staring. He hasn’t said anything—he’s just stood there with that critical gaze he loves so much. And honestly, I’m sick of it. I throw the last of Willy’s shit into the muck bucket then lean on my pitchfork.

“You smell like tequila and one of those perfume stands in the mall,” he finally says.

I chuckle darkly. I expected a comment like this from him. Ever since Dad died, he’s been on my case about being a “playboy,” acting like he didn’t sow his wild oats when he was my age. Like he never came home smelling like tequila and perfume from all the women he two-stepped with and probably fucked.

But what makes his comment even funnier to me is that he believes the reason I wasn’t in my room this morning was because I went home with someone. What he doesn’t know is I slept in the barn loft, not wanting to risk seeing him.

I wipe more sweat off my brow and look him straight in the eye with a half grin on my face, one that says morefuck youthan anything else. “You go to malls often, Gav? I thought your boots looked new.”

Gavin grinds his molars then exhales. “Are you okay?”

The question surprises me. I expected him to give me a lecture right out of the gate. That’s been our relationship for the last year. I do something, he lectures. I get pissed, we don’t talk. We make up. Then the process starts again.

Right before and after my accident, our communication was slightly better. We’d come to a sort of understanding that we’d both been working through our grief in different ways. But then, over the last few months, my lack of ability to do anything—to work, to get my anger out, to have anymeaningful conversations—has faded. Now, my spiraling dark thoughts gnaw at me like a rat on a scrap of food.

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