Page 51 of High Velocity

“I’m okay,” he claims, but I have a feeling reality is only just setting in for him.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

He turns his head on his pillow and his brown eyes look black, glowing like polished onyx in the dark.

“Just hold me.”

Sixteen

Jackson

On my way back to my cabin, I stop at the bottom of the porch steps and look at the empty chair.

Despite the impromptu celebration of life on this porch a couple of nights ago, morale on the ranch is low.

The absence of Thomas is affecting everyone. Each time I glance over or pass by and spot his empty rocking chair, my heart grows heavier. A few dark thoughts have started swirling again, and this morning I had to force myself to get out of bed.

Stephanie stayed with me that first night, but I didn’t stop her when she left the next morning after I told her things would probably be a bit hectic on the ranch until the funeral. I did ask her to take Ash, and although I feel better knowing she at least has the dog for company, I’m struggling with guilt because I haven’t been in touch with her since.

I’m raw and I’m weak. I’d needed her to hold me together that night after Thomas died, needed her to keep me grounded. I let her go home because the temptation would have been too great to keep leaning, when I should be the one supporting her. She’s dealing with enough on her own, she shouldn’t have to deal with my dark moods.

“You’re an idiot.”

I look up to see Ama standing in the front doorway. Her dark eyes are angry.

“Me? What did I do?”

“Do you know the old man spent his last days waiting for you to get your shit together? Do you think it was a coincidence the night you bring her to the ranch is the night he let go? He was hanging on from sheer will to see for himself.” She shakes her head and gestures with her right hand like she’s swatting at a fly. “And what is the first thing you do? You blow the woman off.”

Her words shake me—the thought I meant that much to Thomas deepens the ache in my chest—but that doesn’t stop me from reacting defensively.

“I didn’t blow her off.”

Ama raises a sarcastic eyebrow. “No? Then how come she’s called the house several times over the past few days to find out how you’re holding up because you won’t answer her damn calls yourself?”

Now that guilt I was already feeling sharpens even further. I wish I could punch something to block out the intensity of emotions tearing at me.

“She’s better?—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, young man,” Ama interrupts with a bark. “You’d be spitting in the face of everyone who loves you, and you should damn well know there are many of us. And don’t insult Thomas’s memory, because other than his son, there wasn’t a single person here he loved more than you.”

With that she turns on her heel and heads back inside, slamming the door behind her.

I feel like I’ve just been flattened by an eighteen-wheeler and I’m down, my insides spilling out.

“Ma’s right, you know.” JD’s hand clamps on my shoulder as he steps up beside me. “The old man couldn’t have loved you more if you were his own blood. He’d be pissed to see you blow this thing with Stephanie.”

He gives my shoulder a squeeze before heading toward his truck, where he stops to shoot me one last look.

“Not to mention your girlfriend has the skills to seriously hurt you if you don’t get your head outta your ass.”

I watch as he gets behind the wheel, backs out of his spot, and turns down the driveway, heading home to his pregnant wife.

Fuck.

Tomorrow is Thomas’s funeral. A simple graveside affair, right here where he wanted to be buried on top of the hill behind the barn. He’d wanted a spot from where he could oversee the ranch.

Jonas asked JD, Dan, and I to dig the grave, which we did this afternoon. I’m covered in the dirt and soil that will be covering him tomorrow morning, and I really fucking want Stephanie by my side when we lower him into his last resting place. I need her there.

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