Don’t look back.
Ignore the heat on your back.
Keep walking.
Almost there.
I rounded the back of my car, clicked the locks, and yanked the door open. I tossing my bag and keys into the passenger seat as I folded in. With a shaking head, I pressed the start button, and when the familiar purr of the engine filled my ears, I wasted no time hightailing it out of there, leaving Hallow Ranch on the cowboy who’d had my heart for the last decade in the dust.
Forty-five minutes later, I was back in my the sanctuary of my office. The building was quiet and empty as the sun began its descent, the town of Hayden slowing down for the evening as everyone drifted back into their homes for the evening. A pitiful sigh left me as I dropped by bag in the plush purple chair in the corner of my office and plucked the Weatherford file from my desk. I opened it with a sense of urgency, walking around to my chair, my eyes scanning over the words on the first page, not retaining a single detail.
I couldn’t focus.
All I saw was him—all I felt was him.
My butt landed in the cushion of my sage green office chair as a rush of air left my lungs. I looked up from the file, staring at everything in my office yet nothing at the same time. The lump in my throat had grown since leaving Hallow Ranch, and my heart, well, she had no intentions of slowing down anytime soon. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if I went into cardiac arrest right here and now.
The blaring sound of my office phone ringing cut through the air, causing me to jolt.
“Crap!” I breathed out, my eyes darting for the ugly, clunky black device perched on the corner of my marble desk. It rang two more times before I managed to answer it.
“Harper Law. This is Diana,” I answered.
The line was silent for a few seconds, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. “This is Harper Law Office. How may I help you?” I asked, steadying my voice, the Weatherford file forgotten.
The person on the other end started breathing heavy, and I opened my mouth again, but they beat me to the punch. “Diana.”
Goosebumps scattered across my skin like frost in the night, covering every inch of me in coldness, seeping into my soul. “What do you want?” I asked through clenched teeth.
The man scoffed. “That’s no way to talk to your father.”
“You stopped being my father years ago when I cut you off. What do you want?”
“Blood is blood, Diana,” he said, growling at the end. “I’ve about had it with your games.”
None of this had ever been a game. However, both my parents seem to think that my decision to cut them off was a cry for attention. Then again, apparently everything I did that didn’t suit them was.
“Is anyone dying?” I asked calmly, taking this time to focus on my breathing and calculate my responses. My father didn’t deserve to hear or witness my emotions.
“What? No, of course not. That’s—”
“If no one is terminally ill or dead, then there is no reason for you to be calling me,” I replied, crossing my legs and leaning back in my chair. All thoughts and desires for the cowboy had vanished the second I heard my father’s voice.
“It’s time for this little act to end, Diana. What’s it going to take for us to be a family again?”
“There’s nothing on this Earth that would make that possible. Have a good day.” I leaned forward and calmly put the phone back into the receiver. Then, silently and swiftly, I packed up my things I needed to work from home for the next few days, locked up the office, and headed home for the night.
Once there, I sent a text to Thomas.
Me: My father called the office this evening. When you get there in the morning, please block that number. I’m going to be working from home for the rest of the week.
His reply was almost instant.
Thomas: Yes, ma’am. Whatever you need.
Chapter Three
Mags