Chapter 3
Walker
That was her. I swear to the universe and all that’s in it that Dark she took a different job. But Bree still does.
Before too long, I’m joined by Ford Greyson and Garrett Ashby, ranch employees who flank either side of me at the square table.
“Wes told us you were joining the crew,” one of them says.
“Yep,” I answer. “I’m Cam. Nice to meet you.”
We each do a quick introduction, including where we’re from.
I choose to just say Oklahoma because less is more.
One of the guys bunks in the same employee quarters as me, which makes dinner easy.
Sleeping in a room with other people doesn’t bother me these days; that’s what a tour bus is all about.
And I genuinely like being around people.
I like their stories. I like their energy.
These guys are great. Ford makes me laugh, and Garrett has some great stories about his hometown.
But while we visit, I can’t help watching Mallory.
The way she owns her quietness, and the way she owns herself are enthralling.
For all the animation her sister has, arms flailing, constant chatter, Mallory is the opposite.
She just watches and listens quietly, offering a sentence or two now and again.
I want to know what goes on inside her mind. She seems like the type who thinks a lot but shares a little.
She glances at me, then down at the fork sitting untouched on my plate, then back up like I’m a math problem she’s already solved and didn’t find very challenging.
She picks up her own fork and nudges it toward her food, slowly and deliberately, like she’s demonstrating the basic mechanics of eating dinner to someone who may have forgotten how it works.
Then she turns back to her sister without another word.
Damn.