Page 4 of Crossroads
They cut me off, and they’re kicking me out.
It finally happened.
My biggest fantasy and my greatest fear.
Now, what the hell am I going to do?
TWO
“Well, did she say anything to you?” I ask, hating that my voice is shaky and uncertain. But my entire world has been wrecked this past week.
Amelia—or Millie as most of us have called her since kindergarten—looks over at me, shovel in hand as she works to clean out the barn. Her face tells me she is not in the mood for my chattiness. But whatever. I need to talk, and she’s the best friend I’ve ever had.
She shovels shit into the wagon, then leans her chin on the handle of the shovel, with her small, gloved hands wrapped around it. “She just needs some space, Jasper. It’s not a big deal.”
I start shoveling again, trying not to be too offended by her words. Millie is a no-nonsense human. She doesn’t get emotional often. She cares, but she’s one to give it to you straight. Most of the time, I love that about her, but not really today. Today, I’m a guy who got dumped by his girlfriend of three years the day after we graduated from high school.
Without much of an explanation at all. All Lucy said was, “It’s over, Jasper. I need some space.”
Fucking space. Are you kidding me?We live in a tiny, small town in Western Kansas. We have all the open spaces out here a person could need.
“Really? Not a big deal?” I grunt, pushing my shovel through the muck of the barn floor and lift it, disposing of it in the wagon. “We dated for three years. And then she just throws me away like I’m nothing. Why? Because she’s going to college in three months?”
“What’s the matter, Jasper? Pissed off she dumped you now instead of at the end of the summer? Mourning all that summer nookie?” She waggles her auburn eyebrows at me in a ridiculous fashion.
And yeah, it makes me grin a little. “Who the hell even says nookie? And you know it was more than that for me.” I finish with my shovel and take hers too, putting them both up but unable to really feel any satisfaction from being done.
I actually love working on the Wright farm. I have since I was fifteen and pretty much knew this is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I mean, not necessarily working for the Wrights—though I do like them a whole lot—but I want to save enough to buy my own land and run my own ranch someday.
But today and this past week, I just feel like shit. And Lucy did that to me. It’s not like I thought we’d get married right away. I knew she wanted to leave Kensley for a bit—go to college and shit—which was fine with me. But I still thought I was part of her long-term plans.
Guess not.
“You have to stop sulking. You’re eighteen. Chances were you guys weren’t going to work out anyway,” Millie says as she grabs the feed for the cattle, and I resist the urge to take it instead to help her out.
That would piss Millie off quicker than anything. She’s a tiny girl—barely over five feet and can’t weigh more than a hundredpounds—but you don’t fuck with Millie Wright. She can keep up with guys twice her size and does daily.
We hop on the John Deer Gator that’s not a toy, by the way. Kelly has had to remind us of that on occasion, but man, is it fun to drive through the muddy trails on the property. Not that it’s muddy at the moment though. Dust flies from beneath the tires as we roll through the path.
We bring the food down to the cattle, both of us fairly quiet on the drive down. Some people think of Millie as cold and distant, but I know she’s not trying to hurt my feelings. She’s just being logical.
I know the world would think the odds of Lucy and me being together forever were slim, but hell, Millie’s parents have been married for thirty-five years. My own parents just celebrated their twentieth wedding anniversary. And Lucy’s parents will also next winter.
They all married young and are happy as hell. Is it so wrong to think I’d have that too someday? I thought we wanted the same things.
“I just can’t believe she needs space from me,” I say, pouring the food into the troughs. “I’m her best friend.”
“Actually, I’m her best friend,” she counters.
“Ouch, Mills.”
She just grins, shaking her head at me like I’m an adorable little puppy that got in the way of someone’s foot and got kicked. Millie looks at me like that a lot, if I’m honest.
“We’ve always been friends,” I say as I put the empty container back in the Gator, then pat one of my favorite cows on the head. She’s awfully soft and dips her head to let me get in a good scratch around her ears. I look over at Millie, who’s busy giving some of the other cattle some love, her feet on the bottom rung of the fence so she can reach over. “We were friends long before we ever dated.”
“Exactly,” she says, hopping down and climbing into the Gator, expecting me to ride shotgun, which I do after giving Millie the cow—my Millie hates that I named her that, but whatever—a quick pat on her head and hop into the Gator just in time for her to take off toward the house and main barn again. “That’s the point, dumbass. All Lucy knows is Kensley and you.”
I hold onto the handle above my head as Millie gives the Gator hell, tearing through the path up to the house. “What’s that supposed to mean? That’s all any of us know.”
