Page 3 of Cowboy Crush
“That’s not the point, Jameson.” Kaden crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the barn door and watches me move toward the stall.
“What’s the point then? I’m kind of busy here.” I’ve been working here for about a year now, so he’s used to me being blunt and to the point. He doesn’t expect pleasantries out of me.
“The point is that you’re young. You need to have a life. Quit killing yourself for this job. Go out, have fun, meet some pretty girl who falls head over heels in love with you. Enjoy life again, kid.”
I roll my eyes. It’s the same speech I’ve had from everyone in my life. “I’ll take that into consideration,” I tell him, giving him the same answer I give them all when they try telling me how to live my life.
“You’re too damn stubborn for your own good, kid,” he says, shaking his head and walking off, finally leaving me alone to get to work.
I muck one of the stalls and have to take a break. This is why I really get here early. It takes me twice as long to get a job done than it used to. Thanks to breaking my neck, I get horrible headaches. My neck, shoulders, and back cramp up and fill with blinding pain. Sometimes, I even lose the ability to feel my hands after the tingles start racing up and down my spine. The doctor told me I’d be lucky if I ever walked again after my accident. I was never supposed to be working like this, and they even started the paperwork to declare me disabled. At first, I thought it would be awesome to get paid to do nothing all day. Then that settled in. I’d do nothing all day. I need work in order to get my mind off the shitty turn of events. If I had no work, I’d do nothing but relive my accident over and over, and eventually, I’d probably drive myself crazy. I tore up the paperwork and refused to file it, knowing that it would, in many ways, be the end for me.
I pull off my gloves, grab the thermos, and have a seat on a bale of hay. I uncap the container and pour a little into the lid. I sit back and enjoy the heat of the coffee. Somehow, it helps to relieve the pain in my head a little. I’ll take anything I can get at this point.
It takes me most of the day, but I finish my work and climb behind the wheel of my truck. I follow the gravel drive around the house and to the gate, where the security guard lets me out. Most people around here aren’t this big on security, especially way up here on the mountain, but Kaden’s wife is a famous actress who came here to settle down and retire, and she’s had problems in the past with stalkers and people making their way onto her property to get a look at her. It’s downright bullshit if you ask me, but I don’t blame her one bit for leaving that place behind and coming here to live the life she wanted. And if she hadn’t, she never would have met Kaden, who was hired to be her bodyguard. I’m happy when I see things work out for other people, but I’m also slightly jealous that it didn’t work out for me.
I make it through the gate and follow the winding gravel road that takes me down the mountain. The road is narrow, with only enough room for one car to drive on at a time. It’s winding, the sides grown up with weeds and wildflowers, making it hard to see what’s coming round the corner so you have to drive slow. A break in the weeds up ahead lets me know that it’s another driveway, but I’ve never seen anyone at the cabin hardly—only in the summer months, so I think it must be a vacation home or maybe even a rental. Out of habit, I turn and look at the cabin as I slowly drive by the place. To my surprise, there’s a beat-up Toyota parked in the drive. I hope they stay on their own property and don’t try venturing to the next. I’d hate to have to run them off.
I make it into town and go straight home. I park my truck in the drive, and I walk into the trailer I’m renting. I kick off my boots at the door and head for the shower. I rip my shirt over my head on the way, tossing it into the laundry basket as I enter the bathroom. I reach into the shower and start the water, letting it warm while I finish undressing. I lean over the sink and inspect my face. My blue eyes seem dull and slightly bloodshot—probably from the current headache and the pain I’ve been in all day. I have dark circles under them. I’m pretty sure I haven’t slept a full night in years. Laying still too long makes my body stiff, and it puts me in too much pain. The best I can do is sleep for a few hours at random times throughout my day and night. I push my jeans down my legs and toss them into the basket. As I’m turning around to step into the shower, I catch a glimpse of the long scar on the back of my neck. It’s several shades lighter than the rest of my skin. It’s at least four inches long, and there are tiny scars on either side of the line from the staples and stitches. I look like some kind of fucked-up Frankenstein with all my scars. I close my eyes to ignore it as I close the shower curtain and step beneath the hot flow of water.
I put my face in the water, letting it run over my eyes. I dip my head forward, and it pours over my short, dark hair. When I can no longer breathe, I pull back and grab my soap, pouring some into my hand and bringing it to a lather before washing off. I take more time than I need in the shower, but I’ve learned not to get into any kind of hurry. I have nothing to do and nothing going on, so what’s the point in rushing?
When I get out, I dry off and get dressed before going to the kitchen to find something for dinner. I settle on a can of chili. I empty it into a pot and warm it on the stove. It doesn’t take long for it to get hot, and I pour it into a bowl. I grab some crackers and a beer, then go to the living room, where I sit in my favorite recliner. I kick the footstool up and push the back of the chair into a reclining position. I set the bowl of chili on my chest as I turn on the TV and flip through the channels, settling on an old Western. Watching these shows always takes me back to being a kid and lying on the living room floor as my dad watched his shows while eating dinner and drinking beer.
When I watch these shows and I feel like a kid again, it allows me to forget the last several years of my life. I’m able to dream again, dream about being a real cowboy, riding the range, falling in love, and chasing the sun on horseback. When I watch these shows, I’m not a broken man who lost his dream. I’m just a boy who has the world at his fingertips, a life that’s wide open and full of promise. Only when the credits roll on the screen, I’m left feeling twice as broken as I did before. It’s like waking up from that coma all over again and finding out my whole world has changed.
I end up falling asleep, but like I always do, I wake a few hours later. My back and neck are stiff, my head hurts, my arms feel heavy, tired, and partially numb. I have to use every bit of strength I have to stand. Slowly, I stretch out before walking to the kitchen when I pick up my pain medication from the counter. I open the bottle, pop one into my mouth, and swallow it dry. I grab a glass, fill it with water, and take a long drink as I look out my kitchen window. I never thought I’d be here, living in a shitty trailer all alone. I’m such a dick that nobody can stand to be around me for long. I guess I better get used to it. I’m never going to have the life I dreamed of, and I’m never going to have a life like anyone else. This is it for me.
3
HANNAH
Iwake up on the couch the following morning. My head is bent over at an awkward angle, resting on the arm of the couch. I have a kink in my neck and let out a whimper as I lift my head and massage the soreness from my muscles. “Ouch,” I mumble.
Summer lifts her head from the other side of the couch. “Whose idea was it to get drunk and pass out in the living room?” she asks, rubbing her neck the same way I am.
“I don’t think it was an actual plan,” I reply. “Hey, where’s Chloe?”
Out of nowhere, I see her hand fly into the air. She’s lying on the floor in front of the fireplace on the other side of the coffee table. “I’m here. Whose day is it to cook? I need breakfast.”
We giggle and force ourselves to stand. I bend and stretch and finally head to the kitchen to start breakfast. As it turns out, we overlooked a lot of things yesterday. There’s no oil to fry eggs so with no other option, I stick with scrambling them. There’s no salt, pepper, or any other seasonings, so they turn out pretty bland. We didn’t think about getting any bacon or sausage, but we did get some ham to make sandwiches with, so I brown a few slices of that and then make some toast. I make a pot of coffee and call the girls into the kitchen. “Breakfast is done!”
They both make it into the room, showered and dressed, looking fresh for the day. Chloe has her sleek black hair pulled into a ponytail while she’s dressed in athletic shorts and a tank top. She plops down on the barstool in front of a plate. “This smells amazing.” She picks up her fork and digs in.
Summer brushes a strand of brown hair behind her ear as she goes for the coffee first. “Mmm,” she mumbles into her cup, refusing to remove it from her mouth.
I stand across from them, picking at my eggs. “So we have to get some seasonings from the store today, or all of our food is going to be tasteless. We don’t even have salt and pepper,” I tell them, not happy with the eggs.
Chloe nods. “Yeah, I didn’t even think of it, but some cleaning supplies wouldn’t hurt either. You know, like disinfecting wipes to wipe things down, laundry detergent, toilet cleaner. I can’t believe this place doesn’t have any of that.”
I shrug. “Well, the owners probably got tired of always stocking it and never using it. Whatever we don’t use this summer, we’ll leave behind for the next person.”
“Dishwashing liquid,” Summer says, finally putting her cup down. “This kitchen is going to get messy fast if we can’t wash dishes.”
I point in her direction, then grab a small tablet of paper and a pen to start our list.
“Don’t forget pool floats,” Chloe adds.
“You know what we should do?” Summer says, causing the two of us to look over at her. “Throw a party. Invite some people from town so we can meet some of the locals. We’re going to be sick of one another by the end of the summer if it’s just us all the time.”
