This is either really bad…or really fucking good, and my wildly beating heart hopes it’s the latter.
16
XANDER DAWSON
I’m slowly becoming obsessed with my mornings here in Copper Lake. Sitting on the back porch, watching the sun rise in the sky. The calm quietness that comes with the air of each fresh day. Aggie joining me when she wakes up and wanders over to this part of the yard. Even the roosters crowing.
This type of early morning relaxation isn’t something I get back home.
Sure, I have a porch I enjoy sitting on while I drink my coffee, but instead of crisp, fresh morning air and the sound of the farm animals waking up, I get polluted air and the sound of morning traffic. Don’t get me wrong, I love my little house back home. It has never done me wrong, but it’s never crossed my mind that maybe I’d enjoy country living.
Growing up, it always seemed boring; living in a town so small, you can drive through it in under twenty minutes, having so much land that you can’t even see your neighbors from your porch, and not having several fast-food joints at your disposal every other block. Having been in Copper Lake for about a month so far, I can wholeheartedly say that I don’t miss thoselittle conveniences as much as I thought I would. Not when the alternative is all ofthis.
I’m in my head, watching Aggie chase the chickens around the yard, when the backdoor opens. Glancing over, I watch my aunt step outside, a maroon robe tied around her waist and a pair of black, ankle-high rubber boots on her feet. Her hair is wrapped up on the top of her head in a towel, like she just got out of the shower. A steaming cup of coffee in hand, she sits down in the rocking chair next to me.
“Morning, dear.” Aunt Colette’s voice is soft and warm.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“I slept fine, honey. How about yourself?”
In the yard, one of the chickens turns on Aggie, chasing her around. Aggie moos loudly as the chicken squawks. Aunt Colette and I both chuckle at the sight.
“I slept fine, too,” I tell her. My stomach twists as I consider what I say to her next. It’s been on my mind since I got his text, and while I know I can’t go, it still makes me giddy, and I need to tell someone. “Cope texted me when he got home last night, and invited me to Vegas.”
Her grin grows as her eyes slowly shift over to mine. “Did he?”
“Wait, did you tell him to ask me?” She looks way too evil genius right now.
Chuckling, she shakes her head. “No, I didn’t ask him to invite you to Las Vegas, Xander.” Taking a slow sip from her coffee mug, she looks at me over the lip of the cup and adds, “But I think you should go.”
My brows clash together tightly as I look at her like she’s lost her mind. “I can’t do that, Auntie.”
Her face screws up. “And why the hell not?”
“Uh…” I motion between us with my hand. “Maybe because the whole reason I’m here is to help you?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she mutters. “I’m not a damn child, you know?”
“No, just stubborn as hell,” I toss back, rolling my eyes.
“You’re one to talk.”
Scoffing, I narrow my eyes on her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that it wouldn’t kill you to take some time for yourself. Do something foryoufor once. I’m not going to wither away and die if you’re gone for a few days.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond because she gets up from the rocking chair, grabs her coffee mug, and goes inside without another word. She’s ridiculous.
After I finish my coffee, I get moving on with morning chores. As usual, Aggie follows me around for every task, even when I take the horses out to the pasture. Tootsie glares at her from her side and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d assume there was some cow animosity going on between the two of them. I make my way back toward the main part of the yard, coming to an abrupt stop at the sight.
Elvis, one of my aunt’s two mini donkeys, is chasing Pepper, one of the goats, around the front of the barn. PepperhatesElvis and Bogart, the other donkey, because they love terrorizing the goats. Elvis is hot on Pepper’s tail, while Pepper screams for his damn life.
“Elvis! Knock it off.” I step closer to them, clapping my hands loudly to deter Elvis. “Pepper doesn’t like you, you fool. Leave him alone!”
He doesn’t listen. Chasing Pepper around and around, weaving through the flowers, around the trough. I can’t help but laugh at the sight—and the sound—of it all. Elvis is braying as he chases a yelling Pepper. Finally, Pepper runs past me, and I put myself in between Elvis and him, cutting Elvis off.
It’s never a dull moment here.
