Chapter 18 Abigail
Chapter eighteen
Abigail
two weeks later
The ranch is already alive outside my front door as I rush to get ready. Somehow, I slept through my alarm, and now I’m late for work. I’m hurrying to slide one of my boots on when my foot slips. “Oh. Shit. No, no, no—”
My knees slam into the floor with a thud.”
“Owwww.”
As I contemplate lying on the ground to die, a soft knock sounds at the front door.
Groaning, I slowly stand, slide my traitorous boot on, and throw open the front door. Lucy races around Lincoln as he stands there, lips curled in with two coffees in hand.
I brush my hair out of my face and heave an exaggerated breath. “I’m so sorry. I slept straight through my alarm, and I was trying to get out the door and—”
“Abigail.” He holds up one of the mugs. “It’s alright. I noticed you were running late and figured you wouldn’t have time to stop for coffee.”
He offers it to me, and I grab it, letting the sweet aroma of the gods fill my nose. “You’re a lifesaver.”
He takes a slow sip from his own mug, watching me over the rim. “And for the record, I totally saw you eat shit just now.”
“I—you—shut up.”
He huffs a laugh that is becoming less and less rare. “Mornin’, Sweetheart,” he says. His voice is warm and easy.
My heart does a weird flip. Still not used to the casual way he throws that nickname out, like it’s meant for me and me alone.
“Good morning.”
I step through the door frame, and Lincoln reaches around me to close the door. “You doin’ okay?”
“Yeah,” I say honestly. “I just must have really needed the rest.”
“We’re not working you too hard, are we?” A crease forms between his brows.
“No. Not at all. I’m loving it. I promise.”
“Good. That’s all we wanted.”
The two of us walk the rest of the way to the barn in silence, sipping coffee and kicking gravel as we go. Lincoln hesitates like he wants to say something else, but a shout from the other side of the barn breaks the moment. A second later, Lawson calls his name through the cold morning air.
He tips his head toward the door. “Duty calls. I’ll see you later today, I’m sure.”
And as he leaves, I feel it, the same thing I do when any of them walk away from me—a quiet tug in my chest.
Something growing harder and harder to ignore with every day that passes.