Page 67 of Sometimes You Stay

The only thing he hadn’t been able to give him so far was a name. And the cow hadn’t been with the family long enough for them to land on one either.

“Past the trying stage?” he asked when Cretia’s responsefinally sank in. “You’ve already posted videos of our new friend?”

“Maybe. And they love him. Adore him! And they’ve suggested thousands of names.”

“Like what?”

Cretia punched some buttons on her screen, opened an app, and a video popped up. First, she was alone in the pasture, a chain of dandelions crowning her glistening hair. Her voice from the phone said, “Decided to wear our hair the same so no one can tell us apart.” The video cut to the cow wearing the same crown of yellow flowers.

He pressed his lips to her cheek. “You wore it better.”

“Careful there, Finn, or someone will think you’ve been on social media.” She gave him a peck on the lips and a saucy wink before turning back to her phone. “I asked my followers what we should name him.” She slowly scrolled through the comments, reading off a name here and there. “George. Samson. Abner. Fun-Size. Maple. Half-Pint. Snicker.”

As her finger swiped up the screen, a message sailed by. It was longer than the others, but it snagged his attention. “Wait. What did that one say?”

“Nothing.” The pink that dotted her cheeks betrayed her. So did the way she tried to drop her phone into her pocket.

“No, I’m serious. What did it say?”

“It’s nothing worth getting worked up about.”

He spun her around in his arms, hooking a finger under her chin until she met his gaze. “How do you know?”

“Because I already deleted a few dozen of them.”

“Of what?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a hard sigh. “Of people telling me I weigh more than the cow. Of people swearingat me for just existing. Of people saying I don’t deserve to be alive on the same planet as such a cutie-pie.”

Her words came out disconnected and emotionless, but they stirred in him a monster that wanted to rip those jerks apart.

“How could they?” He snorted a hot breath through his nose, not unlike a bull ready to charge. “That was a great video. And they don’t ... they don’t even know you.” His voice rose until the dogs joined in, their barking setting off Roberta and the goats. Only the little cow remained silent, though he took several quick steps into the corner of his stall.

“Finn.” Cretia ran her hand up and down his forearm, teasing the soft hair there. “They’re just trolls. They hate their own lives, and they think that saying mean things about someone else will help them feel better.” Holding up her phone, she forced a smile as she touched the profile pic of an offender. “I just block them. It’s that easy. And now they have no power.”

Sure, she’d replay their comments late at night. With only the dark as her companion, she’d wonder if what they’d written was true. She’d wonder if she had no business being on camera. She’d wonder if she really was the size of a full-grown cow.

Her smile began to flicker, and she fought to keep a brave face.

“Really. I barely think about them. It’s all part of what I do.” She brushed a hand across her shoulder. “I don’t let them in.”

Most of the time.

Finn nodded slowly, small lines appearing on either side of his mouth. “But they’re liars. You know that, right? You know what they’re saying isn’t true?”

“Of course I do.”

Cupping his palm against her cheek, he sifted his fingers into her hair, pulling her a step closer. “You have to know that if they just met you—even for a moment—they’d see how amazing you are. How you bring a smile with you wherever you go. How big and kind your heart is. They’d love you.”

Like he did?

Oh, no. It was way too soon to even think about such things. They’d barely known each other for two weeks. Absolutely ridiculous. Truly.

Which did nothing to explain why she hoped he did.

Finn’s eyes narrowed, the weight of his gaze like a warm coat on a cold night. “You know how special you are, don’t you?”

“You’re sweet.” A skeptical giggle insisted on following.

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