Chapter 18
Riley
“Jesus!” I shout as I open my front door and find Dom standing there, two coffees in hand.
"Good morning, sunshine,” he says.
“I could say the same about you. Look at you, vertical and chirpy this early.”
“This is my new routine, remember?”
“Mm-hmm.” He hands me one of the cups. “What is this?”
“An apology,” he says.
“For?”
“For being a jerk yesterday when you were just worried about me.”
“I wasn’t worried about you.”
Liar.
The smirk he shows me makes it obvious he knows I’m lying too.
“And I don’t drink coffee before my run, but thanks, I guess.”
“I thought you’d want to come with me instead of your run.”
“I already watched the sunrise with you once, and I have no need or want to watch you fix a fence, so no thanks.”
He shakes his head. “So you wouldn’t want to go check on a calf with me?”
What? “Excuse me?” I perk up. Who wouldn’t want to go look at a baby cow?
“That’s what I thought.” He walks down my porch steps. “Come on, I have to do rounds, and I need to check on her. I might let you name her.”
“We’re not supposed to name them,” I add. I got yelled at a lot over this, because if we did name them, it made them pets, and they’re not pets, they’re business, Mom used to say.
“It’ll be our secret,” he adds, walking to his truck and not waiting for me. I rush to catch up with him; I don’t want to miss this opportunity.
I slept great last night. Since I spent the whole day painting, my brain was tired, and my body was too, even after my whole encounter with Dom that left me reeling and buzzing.
That man sends my body into a spiral every time I’m near him.
I had to take matters into my own hands, with whispers of his name as I unraveled before falling asleep.
Then, I had the best sleep of my life. With him in it. Between my legs. Which made me wake up again to take care of business.
And now, here we are, quietly sitting next to each other, and I’m getting worked up again just thinking about it.
The truck tires crunch on the gravel road before slowing to a crawl as we pull into the quiet pasture, only the low hum of the engine breaking the silence.
When he shuts the ignition off, it’s just our breathing in this space.
“Come on,” he says, jumping out of the truck as I do the same.
We get closer but leave space as the sturdy mama stands over a tiny, light-brown calf.
The baby is still wobbling slightly on new legs, its coat looking soft and velvety and perfect.
The mother is gently nudging her baby, encouraging it toward her, her movements deliberate. Protective.
“It’s breathtaking to see,” I murmur. This is not my first time watching this interaction. I grew up here, and I was Dad’s sidekick. Arnie’s too. But it’s been years since I took a second to take something like this in.
I watch as the calf nudges back, finally finding its place to nurse. The mother cow closes her eyes briefly, her tail flicking lazily.
It’s in times like these that I’m reminded how magical nature is and how insignificantly small we all are.
Like when I stand next to a giant mountain or a deep cliff.
Or when I swim against the current and watch fish.
There are awe-inspiring moments everywhere.
I just have to stop for a minute and listen.
"It's just...so peaceful," I say, feeling tears prick my eyes. The intensity of this moment is almost too much. The instinctive bond radiating from them is a simple, sacred kind of love. The one I used to have, until she was taken from me.
Until they were taken from me.
The mother cow continues to nudge the calf, her movements steady and calm as the little one settles into the grass beside her. A soft breeze stirs the field, carrying the scent of the cooling earth and drops of dew everywhere.
I don’t even feel the tear leaving my eyes until Dom’s thumb brushes it off my cheek. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to explain why I was fine and dandy just a few seconds ago, and now, I’m on the verge of a meltdown.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes are steady as he tangles his fingers in my hair, holding my face and keeping the tears from dropping to my lips.
“Nothing,” I reply, looking away.
“Then why are you crying?”
“I miss my mom. That’s all.” I pull away from his hold. Or try to, at least, but his hold is steady.
“That’s not nothing.” His tone is so opposite of what I’ve come to expect—not gravel deep, but whiskey smooth instead. Softer. Gentler.
I lean into his touch, trying to blink away the tears and the pain that comes with it. I can’t let them free, because once I do, there’s no holding it back. I clear my throat and take a step back, because as much as I’m enjoying Dom’s calloused hand on my cheek, I can’t fall apart.
I force a smile on my face. “I’m good. It was just a moment.
” My eyes dart to the mama giving silent strength to her wobbly, wet baby, and I feel the same urge to lose it all right now.
I’ll never get experiences like this again.
I’ll never feel my mom’s hug or arms around me, or her silent, unwavering push to always do better, to be better.
Dom’s body presses against me, his hand finding mine, our fingers slightly brushing before intertwining.
He gently pulls us back towards the truck, allowing our backs to rest gently against it as we take it all in.
This is the steadiness I needed, so I didn’t fall to my knees with the waves of overwhelming feeling invading me.
“I didn’t mean to cry. Sorry.” I can’t be moping around. If the one thing about me that's constant is being a happy-go-lucky, this is certainly not on brand for me. And I hate it.
“You can cry. No need to apologize.”
I don’t like it. At all. And this is getting too hard to handle.
I want to go.
I need to go.
I push off the truck. “I’m ready to go back.” I don’t give him time to answer. I get in the truck and let him take us back, which he does, in silence.
As soon as the truck is parked, I throw the door open and shout, “Thanks!” before disappearing into a run. We were doing good, becoming friends and all, and then I had to blow it with my feelings and my tears.
So, I run.
Faster than I ever have before, letting the pain consume my body but not come out. Not in the way of tears, not in the way of anything else. Pain demands to be felt impatiently, and I let it burn each inch of my body, so by the time I go back, it’s gone, and I can breathe again.
Not entirely, though, considering I just fucked up whatever was going on with Dom, all because I couldn’t act like an adult. No, I don’t have time for this.
If I stop running, smiling, cheering, living, I will simply give in to all the things I’ve lost and broken.
Even before I had them.
Like I just did with him.
Now that’s on brand.