Page 137 of Stay With Me
But because the one person I want to call is the one person I just broke.
Chapter Thirty-One
Tripp
After getting a solid two hours of sleep, I’m up earlier than usual to muck stalls and get a head start on chores before meeting everyone at The Lodge. I was tempted to text Magnolia all night, but I didn’t want to suffocate her while she processed everything. She’s acting on emotion and what she thinks she should do for my sake, but I’m hoping she’ll come around. What we have is too special to walk away from.
Though I’m still trying to wrap my brain around her being pregnant with that fuckwad’s baby. Not that it matters. It changes nothing.
Actually, that’s a lie.
It has me feeling even more protective and possessive of her but not only her. The baby, too.
Even if she thinks I shouldn’t be involved, it’s too late. I’m not going anywhere, and she’d be better off accepting that sooner rather than later. But if I have to take the slow route to show her I’m in this for the long haul and keep her in my life, then I’ll do whatever it takes.
Hell, I’d birth the kid for her if it were physically possible.
Just as I’m moving the wheelbarrow out of the barn, I’m hit in the face with something hard and knocked over. The load ofhorseshit I was wheeling topples over with me and covers my bottom half.
What the actual fuck?
Before I can get up to murder this asshole, Wilder’s standing in front of me, doubled over, laughing.
“Good mornin’, dipshit. Look alive next time.”
I’m going to kill him.
Looking at the ground, I see what he threw at me.A fucking bucket. I’m about to use up all my pent-up frustrations and anger on him. “You better fuckin’ run.”
He cowers, holding up his arms and stepping back. “It’s not my fault you didn’t see that comin’ a million miles away. If you weren’t in lala land, you woulda had plenty of time to dodge it.”
Getting to my feet, I use my gloves to brush off my jeans. “I wasn’t lookin’ in your direction, asshole.”
“Goddamn. You’re in a shit mood. Figured you’d be nicer now that you’re gettin’ laid regularly.”
“My sex life is none of your concern. Go finish the stalls so I can start lungin’ the horses.”
With it being a holiday and a half-day of work, exercising times will be cut short, so I need to get as many done as I can before lunchtime.
Wilder comes over, gets the wheelbarrow upright, and then tells me he’ll take over. A flash of pity crosses his face, and I hate how easily he can read me.
Landen hasn’t stepped foot in the family barn since Sydney’s passing, so Wilder or Waylon have been helping me with morning barn chores. Usually, the twins focus on the retreat barn, but for now, they’ve swapped.
I take Rocky out first and work him for twenty minutes before I switch him out and grab Denver. He’s usually an easygoing quarter horse, but my mind’s so distracted and consumed with thoughts of Magnolia being pregnant that I don’t notice when a rabbit hops inside the corral until it’s too late.
Denver stops galloping, retreats backward toward me, and ignores my commands.
“What’re you doin’, buddy? Let’s go.”
I prompt him to get back into position, but the closer the rabbit comes, the more fidgety he gets.
Denver releases a loud whine, stomping his front foot.
I push his butt back to the center while rolling my eyes at Denver, a thousand-pound horse, being scared of a two-pound animal.
“It ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
When the rabbit inches closer again, Denver backs up into me until I’m forced into the fence.
