Page 30 of Alive and Wells

Instead, I wait until her cabin lights go out before grabbing my last beer, and heading outside. Texting the one person I can count on to go along with my insane plan as I start down the moonlit path. Andit isa completely deranged plan.

Austin:You up? I need your help with a project.

Denny:A project at 1AM? Is quitting the family ranch an option? If so, consider this my resignation.

Austin:Yes or no? Meet me at the end of the driveway.

Denny:Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me put my pants on.

My brother shows up seven minutes later with a whisky bottle in hand. He takes a pull and passes it to me.

“What’s this for?” I take one, two, then three gulps before wiping my burning lips with the back of my hand.

“I assumed anything we were getting up to at this hour was likely illegal or dangerous—possibly both. Thought liquid courage might be good.” He takes another slow sip and nods his head toward the chainsaws sitting at my feet. “So, what are we doing?”

“Cutting down the goddamn lilac bushes.”

13

Cecily

Theusualkitchencommotionis heightened at five o’clock this morning. I can practically feel the house buzzing with energy. Raised voices, speaking over one another, slam into me before I even walk through the screen door.

I’m surprised to find everyone huddled around the kitchen island. The cowboys should be filling their travel mugs with black coffee, snagging bagged lunches from the massive industrial fridge in the pantry, and shovelling Beryl’s homemade blueberry muffins or bagels into their mouths as they head out. Beryl says we’re merely responsible for providing them with lunch, but you can always count on fresh baked goods being available. The scent of rising dough’s a constant fixture in the house.

“What’s going on?” I ask through a yawn as I saunter toward the coffee pot.

“We’ve been vandalized,” Kate says in a hushed voice. “In the middle of the night.”

“Holy crap.” My eyes widen and ears prick as I focus on what the men are saying.Shit, they’re talking about revenge.The typically unserious cowboys are deep in discussion about setting up secret watch stations, what guns to keep on hand, and asking neighbouring ranches if they’ve been hit. A voice I would expect to be prominent in any discussion about protecting Wells Ranch is surprisingly missing. Two voices, rather. I scan the faces and don’t see Austin or Denny anywhere among them.

“Where’s Austin?” I throw the question into the air, not directed at anybody in particular.

A series of shrugs and grumbles wave over the group. It would seem this is the first time anyone has noticed his absence. Normally, he’s the quiet observer in the room, so it’s not entirely surprising they haven’t noticed he’s not here. Most days, they hardly acknowledge Austin as he sips his coffee at the furthest end of the kitchen table. I’ll nevernotnotice him because he’s a magnet, and my blood may as well be filled with metal filings. When he’s in the same room, it’s impossible not to feel his pull.

A dull pang in my chest hits as I sit across from his usual spot and take a long, tired sip of coffee. I struggled to sleep last night, wanting to go back to him and explain my overreaction to his making conversation about lilacs. Of course, I noticed the blooms dying off—I’ve been checking every damn day for the last two weeks. Google was quick to assure me that living separately is enough to be considered separated from your husband. But I foolishly made a deal with myself to wait until the lilacs stopped blooming, and then I waited longer to really be sure. It’s the reason why I agreed to go to his house like a booty call last night. But I couldn’t come out and saythatwhen he mentioned the flowers.

Just as I start to worry he wasn’t as okay with being alone last night as I thought, a single sentence severs my thoughts with a sharp knife.

“They cut down all the lilac bushes by the front gate.” Kate fills in her husband, Jackson, on the morning drama as he sets Odessa down at the table.

“Wait, they did what?” I spin around so hard my chair almost tips backward. My stomach twists even harder than my body.

Kate shakes her head in disbelief. “The vandals took a chainsaw to the lilacs. What kind of person does that? We’ve dealt with protesters and trouble-making teens before, but this is weird.”

Beryl’s dark gaze meets mine. Since our initial porch swing conversation about KJ, I’ve told her little snippets here and there. I told her about the lilac bushes. About my promise to myself to let thoughts about KJ shrivel up alongside the vibrant purple blossoms. I’ve been careful not to mention the budding crush on Austin Wells, but her wink as we stare at each other from across the crowded room tells me she knows.

The screen door nearly swings off its hinges with how quickly I tear out of the house. Blood rushing through my ears drowns out the sound of gravel underfoot, and I run down the uneven path. A warm, humid breeze carries the sweet and dusty scent of freshly cut hay across the property; an aroma I’ve come to love since I stopped worrying about smelling lilac with every inhale.

Austin’s walking out his front door just as I’m bounding up the steps, out of breath and shaking. His cowboy hat shades light-brown eyes, doing a subpar job at hiding the redness from lack of sleep.

“You,” I blurt out between gasps for air. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure why I came. I have no idea what to say.

“Morning, City Girl.” If he has any notion about why I’m here, he has an excellent poker face.

“You cut them down.” I grip my ribs, trying to massage out the side-stitch. Austin gives me a quizzical look.

He’s gotta be shitting me, he has to know what I’m talking about.

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