“And he was…good?”
“Clint Murphy was the greatest.” Pride radiates off of him. “Until I came along,” he adds with a haughty little smirk and a shimmy of his shoulders.
My eyes widen at that. “So, you’re a… I mean, you ride broncs too?”
His grin is blinding, more pride rolling off of him, except now it’s an inward type that seems to make him glow. It makes me want to know so much more. “Sure do.”
“Wow, that’s so interesting. I’ve never met someone who does anything like that before. What’s that like?”
“Wild, crazy, and fun as hell.”
So many questions swarm my mind; I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t get a chance to ask any of them, though, because as we approach the house, I notice my aunt sitting in one ofthe rocking chairs. She’s wearing a warm smile as she glances between me and Cope.
“Hey, you just get back?”
“A few minutes go, yeah.” Looking over at Cope, she asks, “You help my nephew with his chores?”
Holding up his thumb and index finger about an inch apart, he laughs and says, “A little bit.”
“Alright, I did a lot by myself before you came over, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, a lot of something.” He chuckles. “Xander was ass over tea kettle when I got to him, bathing in the mud like a hog on a sunny day.”
Aunt Colette cackles, throwing her head back. Mouth hanging open, I drag my gaze from her over to him, where he’s looking mighty proud of himself. “Did you just call me ahog?”
“Oh, relax, city boy. I’m just giving you shit.” He waves as he steps back. “It was nice to see you, Ms. Dawson. Xander, I’ll catch you later. I gotta hit the gym for a while.”
After he leaves, I grab my phone off the table and head inside, wanting to take a shower. I still feel all gross from the mud earlier. Probably stink too. Checking my notifications, I’m disappointed but not surprised to find none from Henry. I roll my eyes, pulling up his contact and send him a text, even though I told myself I wouldn’t be the first to reach out.
I’m always the first to reach out. What’s new?
Me: Hey. Let’s FaceTime tonight. I miss you. Xo.
Hitting send, I lock the screen and set it on the counter, jumping in the shower, all while wondering if he’ll respond.
3
COPE MURPHY
Something I love about being from a small town is how everybody knows everyone. You drive around the lake and see Mr. and Mrs. Flatcher from down the road walking their dog. You wave, they wave back. You pass by Ms. Shephard, your old third-grade teacher, in the produce section at the grocery store, so you stop and say hi, catch up a little.
We’re a tight-knit community, and we always have each other’s backs.
Yeah, everybody may always know your business, but they’ll be the first ones to show up at your door, ready to roll up their sleeves and get to work if something happens and you need anything. I remember a few years back when Henrik and Catherine Strauss passed away unexpectedly, the entire town rallied together to help Conrad with the ranch and all the responsibilities that came with it while he took the time he needed to grieve the loss of his parents. It was such a beautiful thing in the midst of something so tragic.
Almost everybody I’m friends with now are people I’ve known since elementary school. Sure, I have friends who I haven’t known my entire life, like Sterling, my best friend’sboyfriend, but for the most part, they’re people I played hide and go seek with, or who saw me go through puberty and my horrible acne stage. And honestly, I love it that way.
The friendships you can make in small towns are some of the best you can find. At least, in my experience. Those are the thoughts flitting through my mind as I sit around the roaring fire with an ice-cold beer in my hand and a handful of my closest friends surrounding me. It’s my buddy, Colt’s, birthday tonight, so we’re all at Grazing Acres—Conrad’s ranch, and where most of our get-togethers take place—celebrating him the only way we know how; with liquor, loud music, and large bonfires.
Shooter is to my right, the birthday boy to the left, and some Koe Wetzel song is blaring from the speakers of someone’s truck over near the barn. The sun set hours ago, nothing but moonlight and the fire keeping the area lit.
When I left Ms. Dawson’s place earlier today after helping Xander with the animals, I went to the gym for a few hours, took a piping hot shower there, then went home and wasted away the rest of the day lying on the couch fucking around on my phone and half-watching re-runs of reality TV. Don’t ask why I took a shower at the gym when I have a perfectly good one at my house. They hit different after a hard, sweaty workout. I don’t make the rules.
At the reminder of Xander and the mess I walked into earlier, I lean over and bump Shooter’s arm with my elbow. “Hey, I forgot to tell you. You know my neighbor to the left, Ms. Dawson?”
His brow arches as he asks, “The one with the mule named Moscow?”
“Yup, that’s the one.” I laugh. “She’s apparently having surgery soon. Her nephew is visiting from out of state to help her take care of all the animals. I met him the other day when his car broke down on the side of the road.”
