Page 21 of Alive and Wells

“Wrong or not, I’m not interested.”

I’m a pathetic liar. I’m so interested it’s pissing me off, to be honest. A smile deepens the wrinkles around her eyes as she clearly sees through my bullshit.

“How many times have you fallen off a horse?” Beryl asks.

I scoff. I know where this is going.Get back on the horse.I decide to humour her because she’s never turned off by my silent glares. If anything, a lack of response makes her think she’s onto something, so she continues to pester.

“I don’t know. A lot,” I say.

“And the pain of falling is worth it because riding makes you feel alive.”

“Or because it’s my livelihood and I have no choice.”

Beryl smacks my hand. “Don’t be facetious. I’m sure you were falling off horses, cows, sheep, and whatever other critters you boys could try to ride as kids. Long before you were putting any thought into it being your job. Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

“Love can give you the same rush, Austin. You fell in love with somebody who didn’t stick around, but it doesn’t mean that’ll happen again. You’re too young to be jaded and unwilling to try because a little pain scares you.”

“I’m thirty-seven. Not that young.”

“Oh, honey. If you truly believe that, you’re definitely a fool.”

A fool for noticing a pattern and making a conscious choice not to let it continue? I don’t think so. Everyone I’ve loved has either left or died—my brothers being the exception by obligation. I know they stayed because they didn’t think there was another option. They’re here for the ranch. Not me. Never me.

“And when she leaves?”

“From what I gather, she’s taking things one day at a time. Figuring out what she wants. Maybe she can be persuaded to stay. Won’t know unless you try, though.”

She rubs her hand across my arm with a melancholic smile. This is awfully reminiscent of my mom comforting me when my high school girlfriend dumped me. I was heartbroken for a couple weeks and then eager to get back into the dating game. Not a single concern about potential future breakups. Funny how twenty years worth of adult heartache can screw you up, and make the idea of being alone by choice so much easier to stomach than the alternative of trying to develop a relationship with somebody.

I must have come down with heat stroke. It’s the only logical reason why I agreed to have a beer at the river. Denny asked while I was hosing down my mare, Jubilee, after a long morning checking heifers, and I was simply too hot and tired to argue. The rare times I say yes—like today—are enough to keep Denny always inviting me. You’d think I agreed to give him $1,000 by the smile on his face. Almost makes me wish I said yes more often.

Following behind the pack, I listen to talk about the past weekend’s rodeo. Sundial, appropriately nicknamed because he’s basically useless—always standing around casting a damn shadow—is bouncing with excitement as he rambles on about Denny’s winning saddle bronc ride. His voice is so chipper and annoying, I consider turning around. Then we crest the bank down to the swimming hole, and I spot her.

Tan line questions answered.

Goddamn, now I’m really regretting all the invites I’ve turned down. I’m aware she’s been down here with the guys a few times. Honestly, it hasn’t bothered me. At least, it didn’t before now. My brain hadn’t considered the fact she’d be wearing a tiny bikini around them.

But she is. On top of a flat boulder, Cecily’s lying stomach-down, reading a book. She doesn’t even look up at the guys stampeding toward the river like water buffalo. A thin string tied in a dainty bow on her upper back and bottoms that are nearly a thong, exposing most of her ass. Her white bikini leaves little to the imagination, but I’m definitely fucking imagining. She looks up from the book to accept a beer from Denny, and her feet giddily kick behind her.

Fuck. Why haven’t I been coming here?

I can’t keep staring without looking like a pervert, so I walk down the hill and sit next to the water. There’s not much cleared space down here, and she’s in the middle of everything. I’m left with no choice but to be within ten feet of her, regardless of where I sit.

“Hey, Aus—beer,” Denny calls out before tossing me a cold can.

It’s a miracle I catch it because, once again, I’m looking at Cecily. Except this time, she’s looking right back.

“Finally a hot enough day for you to come down and socialize?” she asks.

Say something, dipshit.I take a sip and nod.

“Except not socialize, because it might ruin your grumpy act, wouldn’t it?” She closes her book and takes to reading me instead, sitting up and bringing her knees to her chest. “How was your day cowboying, Not-A-Cowboy?”

“Fine.” I clear my throat. “Whatcha reading?”

She excitedly holds the book in the air, twisting it to show off the dark blue cover. “Oh, it’s non-fiction. About the Essex whaling ship… Um, it’s a pretty wild story. Sperm whales, sinking ships, cannibalism. It was part of the inspiration forMoby Dick.”

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