Page 125 of Chasing the Wild
I’ve worked exceptionally hard to get to where I am, now being only one week out from graduation. There’s no denying that my resume speaks for itself, the difference now being that I’ve finally been able to have a reputable ranch stand behind me and give me a vote of confidence in my skills.
If I think about it too hard, I get all choked up. Each new opportunity that comes my way has Colt’s handiwork all over it, but the man himself has been a ghost since I left the mountain.
Did I expect anything different? Did I think my cowboy was going to ride in and sweep me off my feet? Of course not. We knew what our situation was right from the very beginning and I guess it was some sort of strange gift from the universe that I was given just enough time to properly fall in love with him.
There wasn’t any scenario where I drove away, and we kept in touch. He’s barely in contact with the outside world. Doesn’t have a cellphone that I know of. Doesn’t use social media. What were we going to do, become pen pals over email?
Christ. I dig the heels of my palms into my eye sockets.
I have to be fucking strong and do this for myself. I can’t be a silly girl with foolish daydreams who has no vision for her own future.
The only person I can depend on is me. I refuse to go through life reliant on someone else. As much as that fantasy—of life with Colt and the ranch—is appealing, it’s also just that.
A fantasy.
My phone pings with an incoming message. Now that I’m in civilization once more, Sage is back to texting me endlessly. Not that I particularly mind. It gives me something to take my mind off wondering what Colt is doing approximately five thousand times a day.
Sage:
Got yourself a hot af graduation outfit yet?
I’m thinking something that says professional…
But willing to suck dick to get a promotion.
God. You are a pest.
So is that a yes to the slutty but *very enthusiastic* employee look?
No.
And no, I haven’t picked a dress or outfit yet.
Excuse me, but it’s only one week ’til grad.
FFS.
You better not be in such a miserable state while I’m there.
I’m not miserable.
Oh sorry.
Just carry on, Eeyore.
Continue to persist with this charade.
That cowboy broke your heart, didn’t he?
I wish you weren’t so damn psychic.
Well, detecting how well looked after your pussy is… consider that my superpower.
Not all superheroes wear capes, you know.
No. You just parade around in devil horns and matte lipstick.
And I look FABULOUS while doing so.
