Chapter Six
I wakeup Tuesday morning on Maryanne’s floor to a text from Dad.
I shouldn’t be too late tonight. Can we have supper together?
After wiping the drool off my cheek, I check the time. It’s past 8:00. Maryanne leaving for her spin class before work is a fuzzy memory. She said I could stay as long as I wanted, but I don’t think she meant all morning. I promised my friends Morgan and Summer that I’d help out at the horse rescue today, something I’ve been looking forward to.
So why is it so hard to get out of bed?
If I was still in the field, I’d be halfway up Signal Ridge already.
I reply to Dad, offering to cook for us. If nothing else than to give me something to look forward to because I like cooking, especially in our kitchen, and especially when it’s for Dad.
I set my phone facedown on the floor and curl into Maryanne’s spare comforter, the air mattress squeaking beneath me. Maryanne didn’t even question my decision to take the floor instead of hercouch. Not that it helped me sleep. It was too hot in her bedroom but she screeched when I opened the window at 2:00 am to let in some cool air.
When I wake again, it’s to my phone ringing. It’s my sister, Sofie.
“Hey,” I answer, doing my best to sound bright-eyed because she’s hypervigilant when it comes to my mental health. Maybe because she’s a child psychiatrist, or maybe because she stepped into a parenting role after Mom left. Either way, it can be a lot.
“Hey yourself,” she replies in a cheerful tone. “My ten o’clock cancelled. Can I take you to coffee?”
Now I feel guilty, because my sister is my rock, and though we’ve texted since I returned home, we have yet to meet up, and I could really use one of her hugs. “I’d love that.”
We agree on Love Buzz in thirty. I don’t have time for a full shower but jump in for a rinse, then braid my hair and brush my teeth.
Back in Maryanne’s room, I sort through my piles of discarded clothes for something clean. When I give my favorite jeans a sniff, I’m taken back to Sunday night at the Sweetwater and riding that cowboy’s thigh with his callused palm cupping my ass, then swallowing his massive dick like it was dessert.
I almost came again when he slid his hand into my hair.Like a fucking dream, sweetheart.Something inside me came alive that night.Ifelt alive.
I always thought dirty talk was a silly thing to wish for. Guys don’t really talk like that. And they certainly don’t talk like that andmean it.
Though maybe I was wrong?
Sucking a guy off in public isn’t like me but doing it was a rush. I can’t help wondering if the news about Nathan getting married is acting like some kind of fuel. I’m still angry, even though it makes no sense. I’m still confused. How did I not see what was happening? How did I let him isolate me from my family, my friends, all whileoblivious to his slow drip of toxic manipulation? I should have been the one to break things off, to walk away, because it’s becoming clear to me that the longer I stayed with Nathan, the further he pulled me from myself.
Tugging on the jeans feels like a step in the right direction for this day, though I can’t say why.I’m strong and smart and capable and—I swallow past an uneasy lump in my throat—lovable too, damn it.
Maryanne’s place isn’t far from downtown, so I bundle up and step into the brisk morning. Dark-bellied cumulus clouds are stacked against the Bitterroots, but an occasional sunbeam breaks through. The icy northwest wind means more snow is on the way, though.
Maryanne calls just as I reach the end of her neighborhood. “Oh good, you’re alive.” In the background hums the copy machine and the faint murmur of conversation like she’s in the school’s office. It’s probably her planning period.
I snort. “Thanks for letting me crash again.”
“Anytime. You feeling okay?”
“Coffee will help.” It’s evasive but not a lie. Coffee makes everything better. Hangovers. Motivation. Even a fragile self-esteem can feel less daunting fully caffeinated.
“Are you walking?” Disbelief edges her tone.
“It’s not that far.”
“Linn, it’s like twenty five degrees outside.”
I kick a chunk of ice. Explaining my reasoning for not burning fossil fuels when I am perfectly capable of walking twists something awkward inside me. Even with my best friend.
Will I ever feel like I belong?
“So I got a text from Bear a little bit ago,” she rattles off, excited.