Page 3 of Every Promise Broken

It’s exhausting. All of it. Which is why, most of the time, I prefer to stay home. There’s no great performance inside the four walls of my own home. No mask that needs to be in place.

Setting my bean dip down on one of the long card tables holding food near the barn, I unwrap the tin foil, folding it up nicely and placing it underneath the casserole dish so I can use it again later when it’s time to go home. Scanning the table, I take in all the delicious food already here, deciding to load up a plate since I haven’t eaten since lunch.

“About time you get here.”

When I glance up, I’m met with a crooked grin and gleaming eyes as they take me in. “You act like I’m late, Shooter.”

“No, but I’ve been craving this dip, and you took your sweet-ass time getting here. I could’ve scarfed this entire tray down by now.” Furthering his point, Shooter grabs a tortilla chip from the bag, swiping it through the dip, and grabbing an absurd amount before shoving it into his mouth like a caveman.

“So sorry to have inconvenienced you,” I drawl, placing croissant-wrapped smokies on my plate, followed by cheese, deli meats, and crackers. The scent of barbecued hamburgers is heavy in the air, and a quick glance to my left shows Conrad working the grill, a Bud Light bottle in hand. I look away before he spots me watching him, bringing my attention back to Shooter.

“Fuck, this is good,” he hisses, reaching for another tortilla chip. Glancing over at me, he arches a brow before asking, “You okay, man?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

Shooter shrugs. “I don’t know, you just seem more gloomy than usual. Rough day?”

“Something like that,” I murmur, then shove a smokie in my mouth, desperately wanting the conversation to get off of me. “Where’s the birthday boy?”

“Playing corn hole with Cope,” he answers with a mouthful of bean dip. “Want a beer? I’m going to grab another, and it looks like you could use a little alcohol to cheer you up.”

Maybe he’s right.Maybe a little alcohol in my system will help me forget all the stress plaguing my mind. My money issues, my boyfriend issues, my ex-husband issue that isn’t even a true issue, but every time I’m at this ranch, it becomes one, even though I’m certain it’s one-sided. Conrad is never anything other than cool, calm, and collected around me. My presence clearly doesn’t affect him the same way his affects me.

Good for him,I bitterly think as my eyes flit over to where he’s at one more time without my permission. He’s now chatting with Will, one of Copper Lake’s doctors and one of Conrad’s best friends.

“Yeah, I’ll take one,” I finally mutter.

I’m going to do everything in my power to cheer myself up tonight. Every issue I’m stressed about can be tomorrow’s problem.

2

Conrad Strauss

The chatter surrounding me is nothing more than an annoying buzz in my ears. It’s impossible to focus on anything whenhejust arrived. And by himself. I can’t help but wonder where his annoying boyfriend is. Even the thought of that little twit grates my nerves. I have never been able to understand what Whit sees in that man.

What’s his name? Rufus? A dweeb name for a fucking dweeb man. I’m glad he’s not here.

“Conrad.”

The sound of my name pulls me back to the here and now, and when I turn my head and meet my friend’s gaze, the look he’s giving me lets me know that probably isn’t the first time he’s tried to get my attention. “What?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Will asks, exasperated.

“No,” I reply honestly, flipping the burgers on the grill.

Sighing, Will dives into a story about somebody he saw at the grocery store earlier, and without meaning to, I tune him out again as my focus returns to Whit across the yard. He’snear the barn with Shooter, eating. There’s something off about him tonight. I can’t quite place what it is, but there’s something weighing on him. I’ve always been able to tell when something is not quite right with Whit, even when other people can’t. He can be hard to read, but not to me.

I can’t help but wonder what it is. The urge to march over there and ask him is strong, but I remain rooted in place. I can’t ask him that; it’s not how we are. It’s been years since we got a divorce, and sure, we get along alright, all things considered, but our relationship these days is mostly that of a professional manner. He’s Copper Lake’s only veterinarian and I’m the local rancher. We have to see each other semi-frequently for work, but that doesn’t mean we’refriendly, and it doesn’t mean I have the right to pry into his life and find out the reason for the frown on his face. It’s been years, but the desire to destroy any and everything that causes him hurt or harm is still raging inside of me, as strong as ever. Except now, I don’t get to act on it.

No matter how much I’d like to.

After I finish grilling up the burgers and dogs, I make myself a plate, taking a seat around the fire while I eat for the first time nearly all day. It’s been a busy one, getting ready for everyone to come over. Scanning the yard, a sense of pride swells in my chest, taking in everybody here. The family we’ve all built over the years.

Growing up, I distinctly remember the way so many of my friends hated it here, in Copper Lake. They wanted more. Wanted to see the world. Live in the city. I never understood it, the desire to leave. There’s something so comforting about living in a town so small that everybody knows your name. Knowing, with absolute certainty, that if you needed something, be it a cup of sugar or help when tragedy strikes, people would be there to help. In a heartbeat. No questions asked.

You don’t get that type of hospitality in the city.

I’ll never forget when my folks died, the wayeverybodyin town rallied together to help around the ranch while I found my footing. Pre-made meals were brought to the house, ranch chores were done day in and day out, groceries were delivered. All out of the goodness of their hearts. That moment really cemented my love for this town.

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