27. Mollie
CHAPTER 27
Mollie
WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS
“Goodness, Mollie, you’re nearly impossible to get on the phone these days.” I hear the click , click, click of Mom’s blinker on the other end of the line. “Answer when I call, honey! Otherwise, I worry.”
Ducking into the New House’s primary bedroom, I close the door behind me. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been so freaking busy, I haven’t had a second to catch my breath.”
A pause.
“Not busy with any cowboys, I hope?”
My stomach flips as I force out a nervous laugh. “I know how you feel about cowboys.”
Looking around, my stomach flips again at the disaster before me. There are clothes everywhere. Shoes litter the carpet while stacks of paperwork sit on every available surface. The only semi-neat area is the bed itself. I made it up, gah, when? Last Thursday? Thursday before that? Whatever day was the last time I slept here before I ended up at Cash’s.
I’ve stayed at the cabin ever since, only coming back to take my birth control and grab what I need before supper every day. Which is why this room is such a mess. Between working on the ranch, then working on Bellamy Brooks at night, then working out my stress between the sheets with Cash, I don’t have time to pick up. I told the cleaning service that comes every week to just leave the room alone. Why clean it if it’s not actually being used?
On the opposite end of the spectrum, I blush when I think about how often we’re changing Cash’s sheets. Even now, bone-tired from a day working cattle alongside the cowboys, my body heats at the thought of messing up those sheets again.
“Hello? Mollie? Are you still there?”
Blinking, I put a hand on my face. My skin is hot. “Yes. Sorry. How are things in Dallas?”
“I’m happy to report that I have news.” She singsongs the last word.
Maybe that’s why my heart takes a swan dive into my stomach.
I know—I know —her lawyers have figured out a way around the stipulation in Dad’s will. Which means my mandatory stay on the ranch is about to officially end.
I can go back to Dallas. Meet Wheeler in cute coffee shops to work on the new collection’s rollout. Money hit my account at nine a.m. sharp the first of the month. It was enough to not only pay our overdue bills, but also to pay for the manufacture of the first batch of boots from our second collection.
It’s why I’ve been glued to my laptop at night. Our manufacturer has been wonderful about keeping us updated on any progress, and it’s been such a thrill to see our vision finally brought to life.
Why, then, do I have a brick in my gut?
“And?” I lick my lips and look out the window.
A deer is nosing at a patch of grass beside the gravel driveway. I like how unhurried she is. Nowhere to be but here.
“And you get to leave that hellhole! A judge ruled that the stipulation in your father’s will is essentially unenforceable. I don’t remember all the legal jargon, but now that we’re wrapping up the probate process, you’ll get your trust as soon as next week. What a win for us, huh?”
The saliva in my mouth thickens. “Yes. Totally. Wow. I…don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t sound so excited that my lawyers worked day and night on this. The bill’s going to be huge, you know.”
“Right. Of course. I really appreciate all the work you’ve done, Mom. Thank you. Sincerely. It’s only…a lot to process. This feels so sudden.”
“This feels sudden?” Her hurt is palpable through the phone. My chest clenches. “Sweetheart, this is what you wanted, right?”
“It is what I wanted,” I say on an exhale. Only when I think about leaving Lucky Ranch, I feel like dying.
I hadn’t realized how much had changed since my arrival a month ago until this very moment. Because really, everything is different. How I feel about Hartsville, and life on the ranch, and working cattle, and the heat and the animals and the cowboys and Cash.
I’m falling in love with everything about this place.
I also love my job and my friends and family back in Dallas.
I don’t want to abandon my life there. I also don’t want to leave the ranch.
My mind whirls. I could split my time between Hartsville and Dallas. Do weeks here, weekends there? But that would leave Wheeler on her own for the large majority of our working hours. And I need to be on the ground in the city when our collection launches. Do events at local boutiques, host pop-ups at friends’ homes.
I could split weeks maybe? But Cash couldn’t be away from the ranch that much. And at some point, he’s going to start work on restoring Rivers Ranch, which means his free time will be essentially zero.
Holy shit, I’m making plans for the future with Cash.
We haven’t talked about the future. At all. Our complete silence on the topic leads me to believe we’re both avoiding it.
I have no idea what Cash is thinking. He hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend. But he also won’t let me out of his sight. I catch him looking at me all day long. And the one time I tried to shower at the New House so I could save some time, he immediately put the kibosh on the idea.
“You shower with me at the cabin,” he’d said. “It’s the best part of my day.”
How could I not melt? I haven’t showered alone since.
I catch his brothers watching us. Wyatt has said a few things to me about the change in Cash. How he hasn’t been this pleasant in years and how he seems to have some extra pep in his step.
I haven’t told Wyatt about what Cash and I do after hours. It’s not my news to share. But Wyatt knows.
Everyone knows. And go figure, Cash was right—people seem to be quietly happy for us. There’s no ribbing. No sideways glances.
I just keep showing up to work, and everyone keeps respecting me for it. Simple as that.
The alarm goes off on my phone, yanking me back to the present. I drop my phone from my ear to turn it off.
“That your alarm for your birth control?” Mom asks. “You’re still taking birth control, right?”
Furrowing my brow, I head for the bathroom. “Of course I’m still taking birth control. What kind of question is that?”
“Just making sure some idiot cowboy isn’t putting idiot thoughts in your head.”
No, that’s not what my cowboy’s been doing.
What would Mom think of Cash? She’s clearly biased against cowboys. I understand why she feels the way she does. But Cash is different. He’s not an idiot, and he’s definitely not full of shit.
He’s kinder and more capable and more intelligent than any guy I’ve dated. Ever.
But he is still a cowboy. And being with him means being in Hartsville, something Mom doesn’t understand and wouldn’t approve of. She believes there’s no opportunity here, especially when it comes to a career outside of ranching.
Would she hate me if I stayed? Resent me, even, for making a different choice than she did? I’m right around the age Mom was when she packed up our things and drove off the ranch for the last time.
How do I make her see that Cash is different? I’m different? Mom and I are alike, sure. But we’re also opposites in so many ways. Ranch life wasn’t for her, and that’s fine. For so long, I assumed it wouldn’t be for me either. Her story was the only one I knew.
But now that I’ve started my own story, I’m questioning everything.
My stomach starts to hurt. It’s the first time it’s done that in weeks.
“Not all cowboys are shitheads, you know.” I dig my birth control packet out of the vanity’s top drawer. “The people out here are different, yes. But in a good way.”
Mom is silent for a full beat. “You’re coming back to Dallas, Mollie.”
The way she says it is matter-of-fact. A statement. But I hear the question in her tone. The hint of vulnerability.
She’s scared. Join the club .
“Don’t I have to sign some paperwork for the will? I’ll be back.”
“My lawyers are ready to meet as early as tomorrow.”
“Um, well, I’m not sure I can get there so quickly. But I’ll try.”
“Good. And then you’ll sell the ranch. ”
I press my thumb against one of the pills on the bottom row of the blister packet. I’m going to get my period any day now, which is a bummer. I have a feeling it won’t keep Cash away, but it will definitely make things messy. I don’t exactly feel sexy while I’m on my period either.
“Listen, Mom, I haven’t made any decisions yet?—”
“What the hell are you going to do with a ranch, Mollie? This isn’t like you. I haven’t had a real conversation with you in two weeks. More than that.”
Has it really been that long? Looking down at my birth control, it hits me that, yes, it has been more than two weeks.
Also, I’m on day three of the last row of pills. I usually get my period on day one. Day two at the latest.
An icy blast of panic bolts through me as I blink. Count. Blink and count again.
“I miss you, sweetheart,” Mom is saying. “We all do. I ran into Wheeler the other day, and she said the same thing.”
Oh, God. My period is late.
It is never ever late.
Memories flash through my mind: Cash coming inside me in bed. In the shower. In the tub. In the kitchen.
Yes, I’m religious about taking my birth control every day, usually at the same time. But since I’ve been on the ranch, my schedule’s less predictable. I’ll take my pill an hour early here, a couple of hours late there. Is that enough of a change to make it less effective?
Holy God, did Cash get me pregnant?
I’m shaking. But weirdly enough, the panic I felt a second ago is fading. I don’t know what rises in its place, but the emotion isn’t nearly as icy. In fact, it feels kinda warm. Nice.
Which is wild . And wrong. I’ve known Cash for all of a month. I’m not ready for a baby, and neither is he. I have no idea where we stand in terms of our relationship. We’re exclusive, but we’re also really busy. It’s not like either of us has time to pick up other people .
That’s not why y’all aren’t sleeping with anyone else, and you know it.
“You and Wheeler have to give Bellamy Brooks another shot,” Mom continues. “It’s important you have boots on the ground here in Dallas. I mean that literally. Wheeler said these boutiques have tens of thousands of followers online.”
My chest crumples. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the ranch or Bellamy Brooks or the will.
I just know I need Cash. Now.
“Mom, I have to run.”
“Wait, Mollie. We have a lot to discuss?—”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Promise.”
“Sweetheart—”
“ Mom . I need to go.”
“Are you all right?”
No. Yes. I don’t know.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I repeat.
Then I say goodbye, hang up, and run out the door.