Page 56 of Ace of Spades
Lines were already getting blurred, and my head was a mess of tangled emotions, I didn’t need to add any more to the mix. Weston Langford was messing with my head, and I needed to pull myself together before I let whatever feelings I had get the best of me.
I can see the moment his walls rise alongside mine, hurt flashing in his eyes for the briefest of moments before his face turns back to his typical indifference.
“Right,” he mutters, turning to grab a clean t-shirt from the top drawer of his dresser and tossing it to me. “Here—as much as I’m sure the wildlife would appreciate a good show, I don’t want you freezing on the walk back to your trailer.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, throwing the shirt on along with my shoes, pretending to look around the room in order to avoid looking at him. A cold silence engulfs us, as if everything that had passed between us just moments earlier was nothing more than a dream, and we were back to being… I didn’t know what we were anymore. Enemies? Friends that just had mind-shattering sex? Or maybe something in between.
“Well,” I say, turning to the bedroom door. “I’d better get going.”
Gypsy jumps up off of the couch as soon as I walk into the living room, following me to the front door. Hand on the handle, I pause for only a moment, looking over my shoulder to find Weston standing in the doorway of his bedroom.
“Goodnight, Weston,” I tell him.
“Night, Sorrels,” he returns, just as I slip through the door.
It’s just after seven in the morning when I walk up the steps of the Lodge’s back deck and through the double doors into the space, Gypsy running past me to get inside. I’d woken up late,throwing my hair into a hap-hazard messy braid and pulling on a pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of running shoes on my feet.
Weston had texted me early this morning offering to give me a ride to the lodge, but I had told him that I preferred to walk. It wasn’t a lie—the fresh early morning air as the sun began its ascent, coupled with the waning songs of the crickets that faded as the birds began their day—all of it was the perfect opportunity to clear my mind from last night. Besides, Gypsy loved getting to run around the ranch.
It wasn’t a long walk, only about ten or fifteen minutes on foot, and I needed the exercise anyway since there wasn’t a gym here for me to workout. I supposed everybody at the ranch must stay in shape through daily ranch duties.
Along with Weston’s text, I’d awoken to some from each of my parents—my mom asking me to come home, and my dad asking me if I had finally calmed down enough to sit down and have a talk with him. Just as I had done since moving out, I ignored their messages. Truth be told, I wasn’t ready to see either of them again just yet.
I needed space, not only to figure out what I wanted to do, but to figure out what exactly it was that I wanted. I needed clarity, and this was the perfect place for me to get that.
“Well look who finally showed up,” Rhonda calls as I step into the kitchen, a cutting board in front of her where she stands chopping vegetables at the counter.
“Alright, who had fifteen minutes? I had ten, my hopes for Hailey being on time were a little too high this morning,” Chelsea laughs as Dakota playfully smacks her on the shoulder.
“Oh, leave her alone—you know she’s not a functional human being until she gets her coffee. At least she showed up!”
Dakota walks over to the coffee maker, a mug already set on the counter as she pours me a fresh cup and hands it over with a cheery smile on her face.
“Have I ever told you that I freaking love you,” I tell her, throwing my arm around her in greeting.
“You have, but I definitely don’t mind hearing it again.”
“Morning, honey,” Rhonda chuckles, throwing a warm grin my way.
“Morning, Hails,” Chelsea greets. “I’m just messing with you about being late, we know you’re not a morning person. I will, however, judge you for drinking your coffee black.”
“What’s wrong with black coffee?” I ask. “It wakes you up like ten times faster than that sweet stuff you guys drink.”
“Whatever, enjoy your hot bean water,” she laughs.
“What can I help with this morning?” I ask, noticing that the table has
already been set, which was typically my job.
“Let’s see,” Rhonda asks, looking around. “Oh, why don’t you make the pancakes dear?”
“Ye—yeah,” I stammer. “Sure.”
The three of them glance over at me.
“Is that okay?” Rhonda asks.
“Of course, not a problem.”
