Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
JANIE
My mom calls again less than twelve hours later, at six a.m. on a Friday. I bolt upright in bed, forgetting for a second I’m alone now, and reach for my phone, swiping the screen. It hits me all over again when I see the empty side of the bed, and I have to choke out a sorry sounding hello.
“Come back this weekend, honey,” she says, electric mixer humming in the background.
I stare at the empty spot, where the TV left behind loose screws.
My apartment is so much quieter without Shane, and way cleaner, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t laid here remembering every nice thing he did for me in our two years together.
I questioned my choices, wondering if I’d overreacted or fucked up by breaking it off.
Maybe it was just a trash bag after all.
“I’m busy this weekend, Mom,” I say, sinking back into the pillows.
“No, you’re lying in bed because Friday, Saturday, Sunday are your days off,” she says briskly. “You’re probably going to cry in the shower, eat ice cream for breakfast, and wonder if you made a mistake breaking it off with that loser.”
“Mom,” I grumble, annoyed at how right she is. “Stop it.”
“If you don’t drive your ass out here, I’m sending your dad.”
The phone clicks, and I roll my eyes, but inside, I have a feeling she’s right.
When the night comes around, the city is pretty damn big now that I’m alone.
Deep down, despite Shane being there or not, I’ve been a little homesick for a while.
My chest aches sometimes, especially at night, when I can’t see the sunset through all the buildings or the stars through the streetlamps.
After the disruption of Shane moving out, maybe it’d be good for me to go home, stare at the mountains for a while, and hit the reset button.
I pick up my phone and text her—I’ll pack my things and be back by noon.
My phone buzzes while I pack, and I know she’s back at the cabin on Ryder Ranch, yelling at my dad from the kitchen to throw my sheets in the wash before I get here. That puts a smile on my face and gives me the energy I need to get my things together and lock up the empty apartment.
Maybe I should get a dog, something to make it less lonely.
The streets are pretty quiet; it’s only seven.
I stop by the coffee shop down the street and get myself a dirty chai and a cranberry scone.
Then, balancing them in one hand, I drag my wheeled suitcase around the corner and through the entrance to the parking garage.
It’s enormous, always packed with cars, and I never get a space except on the very top level.
Luckily, there’s an elevator. It takes forever as usual, groaning like it’s about to freefall.
I have a sip of chai, ignoring the metallic scraping.
The doors part, and I get off with a sigh of relief.
I pull my suitcase to the far end, where my truck is parked.
My dad insisted on me getting a truck with the sturdiest frame.
I don’t trust those city drivers, always rushing this way and that, he grumbled.
So, I gave in, even though it’s ridiculous and far too big for most parking spaces around here.
I dump my suitcase in the back and get in, peeling open my scone and setting my chai down.
My shoulders sink in relief.
I’m going home, just for the weekend, and I’ve already got a smile on my face.
Luckily, the traffic isn’t terrible as I make my way out of the city and get on the highway.
I glance back in the mirror, feeling a conflicting ache.
There’s something so beautiful about the city, even though I get homesick.
I got my degree here, and I was just starting to like my job.
Then, of course, Shane had to ruin my groove by being a total loser, it turned out.
Fuck Shane.
I frown, taking another sip of chai. My dad hated Shane, and he was pretty vocal about it, but I thought all his reasons were silly at the time.
Now that I’m looking back, Dad was right—Shane shouldn’t have raised his voice at me that night we went out to the movies a few months back, and he shouldn’t have poked fun at me in front of everyone at that company dinner either.
That made me cry and call Mom, and she ratted me out to Dad in seconds, which prompted a phone call where he threatened to beat Shane’s ass.
I should’ve fucking let him. My wiry father packs a punch.
Rolling my eyes, I flick on the radio. It takes two hours to get to Knifely, the last town before Ryder Ranch.
That’s about my limit before I need another shot of caffeine and a snack, so I pull over outside the diner.
Everything is exactly the same, and I love it.
Beside the diner is the same old hair salon, owned by Izzy, the only hairstylist in town.
She’s standing in the door with a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Her face lights up when I wave.
“Janie, you get yourself over here,” she hollers.
I scramble over the curb and climb up the two steps to the shop, giving her a hug. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Can’t complain. What are you doing out here?”
She’s a tall woman with dyed black hair piled on her head, a red stripe running up from her temple. Today, she’s in jeans with rhinestones on the pockets, cowboy boots, and a t-shirt that says Daddy is a Cowboy across the front. I don’t know what that means, but it’s very Izzy.
“I’m just visiting for the weekend,” I say. “Grabbing some coffee before I get to the ranch.”
She reaches out and starts fluffing my blonde hair with her fingers. It’s summer, so the highlights are bright, the tips fading into pale blonde. I know she’s cringing inside, wondering why I’m always forgetting my heat protectant.
“Damn, you have a lot of length,” she says.
I shrug, remembering how much Shane liked my hair long. Maybe I’m in the mood for a chop soon. A little thrill of rebelliousness runs through me.
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to do a summer cut,” I say without thinking. “Just haven’t had the time.”
She glances at the clock, already pulling out the chair. “Let me do it. I can fit in a cut real quick.”
Without hesitating, I sink down into the chair. Izzy has been cutting my hair since kindergarten, and she knows how to work with it. Plus, I know I’m about to get the best therapy session of my life and hear all the good gossip before she’s done. She shakes out a cape, wrapping it over my clothes.
“Let me call the diner, have Tim run some coffees over,” she says.
“And pie. Do they have apple pie?” I ask.
“They did yesterday. Let me check.”
She steps into the back room for a second and returns with her scissors and a comb. “Tim’s gonna walk everything over. And they had that pie.”
“You’re amazing, thank you,” I say, settling back.
She starts wetting down my hair. “Did you hear Deacon Ryder’s getting hitched?”
“Yeah, I’ve been back since he met Freya,” I say. “She’s sweet. I hope she’s down for anything, if he’s still as wild as I remember him being.”
“She is real sweet. Works down at the cafe,” she says, running the comb through my hair. “Now, how short do we want?”
“Give me…almost to my shoulder, but not quite,” I say confidently.
She tilts her head, studying me in the mirror. “You could do that, with how light your hair is. We just add a few layers on the bottom, give it some dimension.”
“I’m ready for it.”
She starts pinning and clipping. “You broke up with your boyfriend, didn’t you?”
I sigh. “Yeah, and here I am, doing a breakup cut. But it’s fine. I need a fresh start.”
“I never liked him.”
“Nobody did, it turns out.”
She laughs, turning me to face the window.
I can see Tim, the owner of the diner, walking over through the wavy glass.
The second he walks in, the familiar, slightly burnt scent of their coffee and the sweet cinnamon of apple pie fills the building.
He stops with an exaggerated gasp when he sees me, his brows shooting up over bright blue eyes.
“Gotdamn, it’s little Janie,” he rasps, years of cigarettes echoing in his voice.
“I’m back,” I say, smiling. “Just for your apple pie.”
“Oh please,” he says, setting the food and drinks down. “You just down for a visit?”
“Just for the weekend,” I say.
“She broke up with the boyfriend,” Izzy volunteers.
Great, that’s about to be all over town. Tim puts his hands on his hips, grizzled head nodding approval.
“Yeah, I didn't like that one,” he says.
“Tim, you never met him,” I say.
“Well, Andy don’t like him, and that’s enough for me,” he says, shrugging. “Listen, I gotta get back, but you come down for breakfast before you head home, alright?”
I nod, smiling as he leaves. The coffee is good—a little burnt, but it tastes like home.
Izzy gets back to chattering and snipping at my hair, but I’m a million miles away right now.
There’s a tiny hollow beneath my ribs, right below my heart.
There’s nothing I love more than this place.
When I left, it was the most violent homesickness I’ve ever experienced.
But I didn’t know what else to do; there wasn’t a clear place for me on Ryder Ranch. I had an obvious future elsewhere.
I thought I knew what I wanted, but every time I go home, there’s this little ache inside I can’t fix.