26. Brooks
26
Brooks
I roll out of bed exhausted, and my feet hit the floor with a loud thud. I’ve given up on the idea of ever feeling rested again. I may be fairly successful at staying busy in the days since Gemma left. But the long sleepless nights when her memory sneaks in are kicking my ass. I’m just thankful for the few hours of sleep the whiskey gives me most nights. I bend down to pet Ace and then make my way to the kitchen to feed him. He gets excited and does a few spins down the hallway, nearly tripping me in the process, but damn I gotta admire his energy.
“You’re all I need in life you know that, Bud?” I pat his head as he scarfs down his kibble. “I can count on you to be by my side any day of the week.” I realize I don’t even know what day it is anymore. Everyday just blurs together.
Fuck. Who cares what day it is anymore? Ranch work doesn’t go by days. It goes by seasons, and winter is coming fast. At least Dad is finally done with the heaviest part of traveling season. As soon as he got back into town yesterday, he said he was taking over my bed and breakfast chores so that I can focus on the ranch.
At least that saves me from having to look at that fucking empty room. I had to delete her number out of my phone. Every time I walked into the empty hallway, I ended up typing out a message and barely stopping myself before I hit send. It was driving me mad. The room just looks wrong. The whole house feels wrong. It’s missing something. It’s missing her. My chest starts to tighten at the thought and the breath leaves my lungs. I really need to get a checkup. I don’t think it’s normal for your chest to feel so heavy but empty at the same time. A simple breakup should not be causing chest pains, not in a grown-ass man.
But yet, here I am gripping the counter as I slide down the wall and crumble again. A woman better than I deserve showed up on my doorstep and fell in love with me, my flaws, and even my damn dog. And what did I do? Fuck it up. Just like I fuck everything up. No, it’s worse than that because I didn’t just fuck it up for me. I fucked it up for her. I hurt her. I spat the most hurtful lies I could think of to make her leave and I watched her heart break. I stood in the barn and watched her sneak out the next morning. I let her get in that car and drive with tears blurring her eyes like a fucking worthless coward. I deserve to feel like I’m dying. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for the way I treated her. I treated her like she was disposable, just like that piece of shit ex of hers.
I was trying to save her. I wanted to save her from me. I wanted to save her from getting stuck in this dead-end town with someone who will never leave it. She was willing to give it all up for me, I could see it in her eyes. I could feel it every time she melted into my chest. I’ll never find something like that again. I don’t want to. I knew from the moment she stepped out of that car in the driveway, she was it for me. I had one chance at true happiness and I ruined it. That’s just something I’ll have to learn to live with. But not her. There’s more out there for her. She has her big town, and fancy college and the whole rest of the world at her fingertips. She will bounce back and find her happily ever after just like she was always supposed to. That has to be enough for me. I just pray to God I never have to know about it.
The thought of her happy with someone else has my body weak and shaky. Images I don’t want to invade my head and it’s more than I can take.
“Fuck this shit!” I yell into my empty house. “I’m not doing this shit. This is not who I am. I do not fall apart over a woman no matter how perfect she is or how badly I fucked it up.”
I am able to live the life I’m meant to live now. I wake up every day, take care of Ace, and head out to the field until I’m exhausted and ready to fall into bed. Nothing more nothing less. No one and nothing to distract me or keep me from taking over the ranch. I’m back to hustling and making it happen. It’s time I remember that.
With that thought fresh on my mind, I pull it together, grab a quick bite, and get ready for work. The guys and I spend the morning sorting and weighing calves and lunch hits before we know it. I send the guys off to lunch and tell them I have some errands to run. I get more protests and grunts than usual. I guess I’ve been blowing them off a lot lately. They’ve all but stopped inviting me out to The Rusty Nail but that doesn’t hurt my feelings. Just saves me from coming up with excuses to not go. I don’t have time to waste like that anymore. And I sure as hell don’t need to provide any more opportunities for them to ask me about Gemma. She left. It’s over. Nothing left to say and I’m sick of explaining that.
I’m just not much for sitting around a table and talking these days. So instead, I go home for lunch every day and have a few minutes of peace before I get back to it. It’s not like I’m hurting anything. A guy just needs a break sometimes. I walk into the house today feeling extra desperate for that break. But the thing is, it isn’t the guys I need a break from. It’s my own mind. Ever since that dam broke this morning and all that pain came rushing back in, I haven’t been able to shake it. I’ve gone from remembering her laid out on the hay bales to the look of anguish on her face before she left. What the fuck is wrong with me today? I make myself a sandwich and pour a glass of whiskey. I need to get Gemma off my mind, and I don’t know a quicker way than a nice cup of the good stuff.
I finish my sandwich and head back to the cattle shoot. I still have a good thirty minutes before the guys finish up, but I could work cattle in my sleep. Hell, I could work cattle with my arms tied behind my back. So why not get a head start? We finished weighing and vaccinating the calves before lunch so all that is left with them is to turn them out to their designated pasture. I pause for a minute and wonder if I should wait. I would kick a ranch hand’s ass for drinking on the job, much less trying to move cows alone. But I’m no ranch hand. Fuck it. I have to keep busy, or I am going to lose it.
Things are going surprisingly smooth until the last little asshole calf manages to escape. I secure the others and take off on my horse to round up the rogue calf. I must have miscalculated and took too sharp of a turn. Or maybe it was that my mare had spooked. Either way, I am no longer seated in my saddle. I fly off my mare and land on the ground, hard. I am injured. I know that much. But the pain is so blinding I am not sure I could pinpoint where the injury is. My whole body is screaming, and I get sick to my stomach. The retching makes the pain unbearable until a calming black curtain envelopes me.