Chapter 29 Magnolia
The ranch looks all but empty when I pull up, and I’m secretly glad that there’s no welcome party. Twenty-four hours have gone by, and I let myself melt down until I was nothing but a shell of myself. I cried, I panicked, I screamed. I yelled at Bode.
But I didn’t have time for much else. So, I picked myself up off the floor, showered, and drove to Whiskey River.
Ford was hesitant at first, letting me work instead of being at home with Dot, but when I told him the lawyers for Mama’s estate were already calling me, he understood my need to shut the rest of the world out.
Whiskey River did that. The ranch had a way of quieting down the noise in your head so long as you didn’t mind the occasional grumpy cowboy or fistfight. The land, the cattle, it all distracts from reality. I’m not ready to face a reality without Mama in it.
My chest rattles with a shaky breath as I put the truck into park outside the barn and grip the steering wheel until my knuckles ache.
I can’t force my usual smile today. I even practiced in the mirror before leaving the house, and each time I just looked…
hollow. I’ve barely slept, and the bags under my eyes carry far more than just a lack of rest. There’s no hiding it. Especially from him.
Bode freezes with a bale of hay in his hands, his cheeks are rosy from moving so early in the cold, and where his cowboy hat usually sits atop his head is replaced by a thick, Dot-knitted beanie.
I see him trying to work out how he’s going to get me back home, the constant flicker of sadness and worry that are at war behind his blue eyes.
I decide the moment he moves to set the hay down to leave the truck.
I’m not ready to face him after how poorly I treated him yesterday.
How he took every single blow I gave him and instead of lashing back, he just…
stood there taking fire like he was made to be cannon fodder.
Bode Walker doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve the mood I’m in or to feel like he has to fix me constantly.
I brace myself long enough to slip my gloves on and move around the front of the truck. Ignoring the need clawing at my throat to bury my face in his chest. He meets me halfway, but I don’t stop. I can’t. If I stop moving, every ounce of courage to be here will crumble.
“Maggie.” He reaches for me, only to hesitate halfway and then drops his hand to his side. “What are you doing here?”
I push open the other barn door and start gathering the pile of buckets for feeding. “Working.”
“I see that,” he mutters softly and just watches me move through the barn, pretending like nothing happened. Or trying to at least. Bode’s silent for another moment before letting out a breath. “Wanda and Buck still need feeding.”
I hesitate for a moment without looking at him, I don’t turn. I can’t because if Bode doesn’t deserve my sadness, then neither do Wanda or Buck. A soft nod to his response, and a moment later, I hear his boots crunch up towards the house, leaving me and my grief alone, again.