Chapter 9
Dom
For someone who complained about not being able to sleep because of a certain girl, I sure as hell look like a fool right now, eyes wide open at three in the morning.
I’m restless, and there’s nothing I can do, as quiet as it may be.
There’s no light shining through her window, so she must be asleep. At least one of us is sleeping.
I might as well get a head start on my day.
Coffee, jeans, belt, hat, and ready to go.
The wrap around porch on this cabin is my favorite.
Three rocking chairs sit next to each other, overlooking the valley.
In another life, the one I had before I moved here, I never took the time to sit and take anything in.
I never took the time to just breathe; it’s something I’ve been practicing more and more.
The serenity and inner peace I’ve felt since moving back here is not something I’ll take for granted.
Arnold said he won’t be coming today—nor will Gertrude, for that matter.
My first day at attempting to handle this ranch on my own.
I’m almost done with the fence, so instead of sitting here aimlessly, I'll go work on it.
I don’t make it to my truck before I hear a door shut. I look back to find Riley tip-toeing out of her house. It’s not even four yet. Does that girl ever sleep?
“I thought you were going to try to sleep today,” I mutter.
She jolts, her cheeks darkening before her eyebrows scrunch. “I know for a fact I didn’t wake you up today. I got dressed in the dark and everything, so what the fuck are you doing awake?”
I chuckle.
“Did you just laugh?”
Yes. “No.”
“You did.”
“No.”
She narrows her eyes. “Well, why are you awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” More like I couldn’t stop thinking about the light this one girl shines everywhere she goes. There’s something about her, and I can’t put my finger on it—not that I have the right to either.
“Something on your mind, cowboy?” She gets closer, and today, she’s actually wearing a jacket for once. Thank fuck. I was stressing over seeing the clothes she’s been wearing for her early morning runs. My grandma would be worried about sickness and send her inside to cover her head.
“No.”
Your wellbeing, for one. The fact that you don’t sleep, for another. Lilly falling apart, Arnold needing a break, the weight of doing what I’m supposed to do as a third.
“It’s too early to go for a run, no?”
“What else am I gonna do? I promised my grumpy neighbor I wouldn’t wake him up, and I’m a little restless.”
Lilly asked me to keep an eye on her, so it wouldn’t be too bad if I asked her to come with me, right? “What if I can offer an alternative?” She’s running plenty and sleeping very little. I don’t want her to crash. One Banks sister near burnout is enough for this ranch.
“Are you proposing we hang out?”
“I’m proposing you give your body a break and come with me.” I will kick myself for this later. I like my peace and quiet, and Riley is neither.
“What do you have in mind?”
I offer her a crooked smile and my hand as I help her climb into the truck. Riley sits back in the front seat, her feet out the window as she taps them to the song playing on the radio.
“Do you like it here?”
“Yes.”
“What do you like about it?” she asks, not missing a beat.
“How peaceful it is.” She flinches. Asshole.
I didn’t mean it as a jab, but it’s the truth.
It’s what I like the most about working here.
I don’t think I saw the sunlight for more than a few minutes at a time when I worked in finance, and now, I’m terrified of going back to those patterns if I ever have to be inside for long.
“I like how peaceful it is too,” she says.
“Oh yeah? You don’t strike me as a girl who enjoys quiet.”
She turns her body, facing me directly this time. “I love quiet spaces as long as there are things to do. It’s when everything is the same that I have issues. “
I nod, noting her little outburst and filing it away for later.
“And I’m a woman, thank you very much.”
Note that too.
The road is as it always is—narrow and bumpy, reminding us all to slow down and drive carefully through the misty night.
I slow down, entering the gravel road and out into the open sky.
The space is draped in a thick, cool darkness, with the scent of damp earth and pine needles hanging heavy in the air as I park the truck.
Everything is still in a deep, peaceful slumber—even the cicadas are silent, leaving only the sound of the tires crunching on the gravel and the distant, mournful call of a lone whippoorwill.
My youngest brother, Lucas, is obsessed with birds, and for a long time, he couldn’t sleep.
I’m nocturnal like them, he would say. Now, I’m a nocturnal avian expert, and I recognize that sound wherever I go.
This is my favorite time of the day. There is a profound, uninterrupted peace, a rare moment when the ranch feels like it belongs entirely to me.
It’s the time to get the real work done, accomplishing more in this hazy pre-dawn hour than in the hustle of the mid-morning.
I don’t do it often, but when I do, I enjoy it.
Riley is quiet, her eyes trained on the stable, but she doesn’t utter a word.
As I arrive at the far fence line, the eastern sky is just beginning to show a faint hint of deep indigo. The cedar posts I need to reset are sturdy, but the wire has sagged, requiring a firm hand to mend. It’s back-breaking, sweat-inducing labor, yet nothing has ever made me feel more alive.
“What are we doing here?”
“I am working on that fence. You are waiting for the sunrise with that blanket wrapped around you.” I point to the blanket draped over the backseat, the first thing I bought when I took this job. I don’t know what I thought the blanket was going to do, but it felt right.
I open the door, grab the fencing pliers, and head forward with Riley on my heels.
“You can sit over there.” I point at a clearing away from the fence.
“What? So I can’t help and I can’t run? Why would you bring me out here then?” She looks frustrated, and I think this is the first time I’ve seen the not-so-happy side of her.
“You’re running yourself ragged. Just take a break.” I sound like my father.
“You’re not my dad, you know?” She sees it too. I could almost be. Just a few more years, and I definitely could be. “And you don’t tell me what to do. You want to start working on your fence. Have at it. I’m gonna go for a run. I’ll be back in thirty, yeah?”
“Riley.” This is worse. So much worse. On the other side of the ranch, at least it’s just cabins and the lake, but out here, so much could go wrong, and I wouldn’t know.
“Why do I have to keep reminding people I grew up here? I know this place like the back of my hand. I’ll be fine; actually, I love that I get a different view today.”
“Riley,” I bite again.
“Byeeee.” She takes off, running away and leaving me behind. I don’t know how we made it here, where I thought I was keeping her calm. Instead, she’s the one leaving me more unsettled than I was before. There’s no taming her wild heart, that’s for sure.
I get working on the fence, tightening the wire against the morning dew.
Where I usually feel a sense of pride when I get things done, today, I’m unraveled.
Jittery. I don’t even have her number to call if something happens.
And if she calls her sister, she could cause me trouble for putting her in this position.
Time passes, and with it, my erratic feelings increase. It’s not until I hear the gravel crunching under steps that I breathe easier again, when thick strong legs and a tiny top flash in front of me. She took her jacket off. Why? It’s cold as fuck out here.
“I’m back!”
“Where’s your jacket?”
“Do you boss Arnie around like that, or is it just me because I’m a woman?” Her hands rest on her hips.
“Arnie’s not out here running in under sixty degrees in practically underwear.”
She gasps. “Sixty is warm. Where did you come from? The Caribbean?”
“Almost. Florida.”
She tsks. “Ah. That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“The lack of southern hospitality.”
“I’m plenty hospitable. I made you a sandwich.”
“And you’ve grunted and puffed every minute of every day just because I’m sharing the same air as you.”
That's exactly what’s bothering me more than I’d like to admit. Her existence is rattling me, the urge to get to know her better and find out what makes her this happy, find out how she’s this light and airy and positive before the sun even comes up. She’s like a happiness windmill.
“It’s not you.”
She narrows her eyes, calling my bluff. “Really? You’re giving me the whole it’s-not-you-it’s-me talk? Listen, I don’t need you to be nice to me, but I do need you to be cordial, and maybe if you’re going to kidnap me, at least don’t be a jerk about it.”
“I didn’t kidnap you.”
She smacks her hands on her thighs, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You. Did. You know what? Never mind. I’m gonna run back.”
“Don’t.”
I rush to catch up with her as she tries to walk away from me, grabbing her hand. “I’ll take you back. But first, I want you to see it.”
“See what?” she asks, turning to catch the vibrant sky. “Fine!” She playfully rolls her eyes and pulls her hand away, striding to the forgotten blanket in the pasture.
I continue working on the fence, the sounds of nature playing in the background as the sun paints the sky a myriad of pastel colors. I don’t turn to look at Riley. I don’t ask her any questions either. I just work, letting her bask in the moment.
Only when time has passed, with the sun beating hot above me, do I dare to look back. I’m expecting a wide-eyed Riley taking it all in, like that night I met her on the top of her Jeep, but what I find is the complete opposite, and it warms my heart in ways that are difficult to describe.
She fell asleep.
I fight the urge to wake her—partially because I don’t know if she’s going to be snappy, but mostly because she needs rest. She’s always on the go, but there comes a time when our bodies can’t take it anymore, and we snap.
I would hate for that to happen to her, so I let her be.
It’s not like I don’t have things to do either way.