Page 38 of Alive and Wells

Kate shakes her head at me, clearly confused and worried about why her husband was called out of bed before daybreak on his day off. Especially seeing Austin isn’t gone with the crew like he should be.

“Kate, I have some shit to tell you.” My head tips toward the wicker chairs next to the front door.

I run through a stripped-down version of everything, pausing to answer her million questions about my life before Wells Ranch. All the shit KJ put me through over the last three years. In my periphery, I catch Austin slipping through the door and taking a seat on the front steps with a fresh coffee. A quiet observer. He’s only heard a little about the night I left and my current situation, so this other information is new to him, too. Thanks to her pregnancy hormones, Kate cries…a lot. Austin sits with his head buried in his hands. His leg bouncing anxiously on the step. All the while, I remain surprisingly apathetic. Numb. Cold. As if I’m rehashing a book I read, rather than telling my own story.

When we get to the present situation, I follow Austin’s advice about omitting the involvement of a gun. Kate’s sobbing so intensely you’d think this was her trauma, not mine. I don’t need to make it any harder for her pregnant emotions to handle, so the omission doesn’t make me feel too guilty.

Once her tears have adequately dried, the three of us head inside. The day continues almost as normal, except that Austin does his paperwork at the kitchen table and Kate grills me with question after question. By the time I’m done with my tasks for the day, I’m mentally and emotionally drained. When Austin suggests heading back to his place, I can’t even find it in me to respond with words. A simple nod and slow walk to the front door suffice.

For at least twenty minutes, he and I sit in blissful silence before working up the nerve to talk.

“Should we have dinner here?” Austin’s eyes are pleading from the opposite end of his couch.

I exhale loudly. “Please. I don’t think I can handle any more crying. Does pregnancy make your tear production a hundred times more efficient than normal? I was starting to worry she might become dehydrated.”

All day, Kate welled up every time she looked at me.Every single time.If I accidentally made eye contact for too long—full-blown tears. I told her I was happy to answer any other questions she thought of, and I regretted that instantly. Not because I was uncomfortable answering them, but because it made her weep. To the point where Austin had to go play with Odessa outside to stop her from worrying. Despite my concern that her being stressed all day wasn’t healthy, Kate insisted she hear all the details. I’ll admit it felt good to have open, raw conversations, and no longer need to carry the weight of keeping such a burdening secret. After three years with nobody in my corner, dealing with every situation alone, I wasn’t even sure I was still capable of letting people know the real me until I came to Wells Ranch.

“Great. Kraft Dinner okay?” he asks. “I don’t have much for groceries here.”

KJ never would’ve allowed boxed macaroni and cheese into his house. Only expensive, fancy meals for him—which is nothing like the Lunchables, Kraft Dinner, and Sugar Crisp I grew up on and love. Even if I insisted on having some, he’dnevercook it for me. Or cook anything, period.

“God, yes,please. I haven’t had that in years.“ I sink deeper into the couch cushion with a moan that makes his eyebrows raise. “Ooooh, do you have hot dogs too?”

“You’re easy to please. I like it.” He smacks his thighs and stands up. “Hot dogs and KD, coming up.”

“I can help.” I follow behind him, fully aware the kitchen is too small for us to work side-by-side without bumping into one another. My skin warms with nervousness like I’m a preteen girl hoping the cute boy’s pinky might brush mine during our chaperoned date. “You get the water boiling and I’ll grab the hot dogs.”

Watching the pot come to a boil won’t fill my grumbling stomach any faster, so I look at him. He’s leaning against the oak cupboards, arms crossed over his chest. Veins on his forearm lead an enticing path up to his biceps, under his shirtsleeve, and my mind wanders to how good he looked last night. Chest hair still wet from the shower, the dip in his clavicles, the stretched muscles covering his shoulders. Full-on, rugged eye-candy, and he doesn’t even seem to realize it. He’s so handsome it’s not fair to the other cowboys—and some of them aredefinitelyconsidered conventionally attractive.

Catching me staring, he smirks. “What are you thinking about?”

How badly I want to tear your clothes off.I’m not bold enough to say what I’m thinking. Not when his eyes are ripping me apart like they are.

“Kate asked me approximately one billion personal questions today, and you didn’t ask any. Now’s your chance.”

Austin’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes darting to the floor. After a few silent heartbeats, his low voice asks, “Do you still love him?”

“God, no,” I impulsively say, caught off guard. It’s the truth. “For a long time, when it first started, I did. I thought loving him enough would make him change. Then, even as I started to understand that I didn’t still love him, I fought it. Hard. I mean… I feel sad sometimes about the way things turned out. But, to answer your question, no. I haven’t loved him in a long, long time. I meant it when I told you I’m filing for divorce as soon as I can.”

In typical Austin fashion, he grunts a single time and stares at me.

“Any other questions?”

“Oh, I have questions, but none of them are for you.”

“Okay, can I ask you a question?”

He raises an eyebrow, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

“Do you see me differently now?” I swallow hard, awaiting his response. Looking everywhere except at him, for once. The black cupboard knobs, the striped towel hanging from the oven door handle, the singular tree-shaped magnet on his fridge—which looks like it was probably painted by Odessa. I’m unsure whether I want him to say yes or no. Neither feels like therightanswer.

“I do.” Thankfully, he takes a deep enough breath for the both of us because my lungs have seized. “You’ve had so many things happen to you—things the most resilient people I know wouldn’t come back from. Yet somehow, you’re still the sunshine of this damn ranch. I would’ve never guessed you had this much crap going on. Shit, I have no idea how you’re as strong as you are.”

His words settle over me like a soothing balm. “I don’t think I’m half as strong as you give me credit for. I didn’t cry about it today because I’ve run the well dry more times than I can count. I’m not strong so much as numb to it all, and I’m not sure that’s something to be admired.”

“Trust me, I’ve been there…” A troubled look flashes across his eyes, here and then gone as he sharply turns away. His messy dark hair tousled the tiniest bit out of place by the movement.

The uncooked macaroni splashes into the pot and Austin circles back to me. “I knew something was up on my mom’s birthday when I grabbed your arm and you flinched, but I didn’t expect everything you told us. I want you to know I would never have done that—grabbed you—if I’d known. I’m sorry.”

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