Page 58 of The Wrong Ride Home
“What part?” I demanded. “Fuck out-of-towners, or work here for substandard pay?”
“Both.”
He was watching me intently, his eyes not wavering.
“I don’t fuck locals because I’m not looking for a long-term or short-term or any kind of commitment. I have an itch. I get it scratched. It ain’t hard to find a man to ride.”
He hissed.
I rolled my eyes. “I stayed here for Mama first, then because Mama wanted me to take care of Nash, and now…because I want to sell the horses to the right buyers, and then Iwillleave.”
Another silence. Not awkward, just heavy.
“You’ve changed,” he said after a while.
This time I smiled, but there wasn’t any warmth in it. “So have you.”
“Not in the same way.”
“No,” I agreed. “Not in the same way.”
He shifted, resting his forearms on his knees. “How do you think I have changed?”
“You’re not of this land anymore.”
He went still beside me. “I was never like you and Nash,” he remarked after a while.
“That’s not true. You loved this place once. You loved your father once.”
“Once,” he conceded. “I felt guilty that you weren’t at the funeral.”
I swallowed, looking back at the flames. He didn’t know where Nash was buried, and I felt guilty about that, but not enough to fuck up Nash’s last wishes. “It’s fine.”
“I don’t think so.”
I didn’t answer. What was there to say?
We sat, both of us carrying too much, neither of us willing to unpack it. A détente? Had we stopped fighting?
After a while, Duke pushed himself to his feet.
“I’ll leave you be.”
I watched as he walked away, disappearing into the dark.
When I was alone again, I stared into the fire, the crackling embers the only sound in the vast emptiness around me.
I thought again about his question.
Why was I still here? I had no damn idea—beyond the habit of being here simply because Mama had asked me to be.
Was selling the horses and cattle just an excuse? Was I really here because of Duke? The thought sank its teeth into me, and I hated it—hated the truth of it, hated how it made me feel like some pathetic, love-sick fool.
But addictions weren’t easy to break.
I knew what it was to chase a fix, to crave something even when you knew it’d wreck you. Everyone had their vices—mine was Duke Wilder.
CHAPTER 18
