Chapter 7 Wednesday, December 21st
Ronan
I didn’t sleep much last night, but I did finally doze off for a few hours after I came up with the rough outline of a plan. It was just enough to ease my mind a little, to let me get some rest.
I sit up, my hands on either side of my hips, and fuck if my back isn’t pissed at me.
Between the eight-hundred-mile drive and this shitty lump of fabric stuffed with creaky springs calling itself a mattress, I’m in desperate need of a chiropractor—or one of those medieval rack devices that pull your limbs apart.
Honestly, sounds kind of amazing right now.
The few hours of shuteye I did get were piss-poor, partially because of my ruminating mind and partially because Miranda’s slightest shifts caused the bed to squeak and the mattress to ripple like we were on a raft on the open sea.
None of it was conducive to good rest. I’m actually shocked that Miranda is able to sleep as soundly as she does, but then again, she was probably wiped out from all that adrenaline coursing through her veins and the waves of powerful emotions she had to brave most of the day.
I’m glad she slept. She needed it way more than me.
I half expect my joints to creak like the damn bed frame when I finally roll out of bed at just after five.
The tightness in my back is rivaled only by the stiffness in my knee, which I suspect has more to do with the cold temperatures than the sleeping arrangements.
My knee has been getting progressively more “difficult” with the change in seasons, locking up when I don’t spend enough time warming up before a workout, or just deciding to ache for no apparent reason. Good times.
After the briefest, quietest trip to the bathroom during which I try to focus on anything but the mold-riddled grout cementing the yellowed tile to the wall, I put on my shoes and jacket, grab the room key, then slip out the door.
It’s frosty, but not nearly as cold as New York, where I’d have to scrape the ice off my windshield right now. Still, I find the contact I need in my phone, then shove my right hand into my jacket pocket while holding my phone to my ear with my left.
“Soult Ranch,” my grandma answers on the third ring, making a giant grin appear on my lips.
“Hi, Morai.”
“Baby boy? Oh my goodness, hi!” she says with such glee, one would think she just received the most incredible news of her life. But her inflection changes to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling us in the middle of the night?”
I chuckle. “Well, it’s not the middle of the night where I am.”
“True, but it’s still very, very early in the morning. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Actually, no. Morai, I need to talk to you and Athair about something important.”
“What is it, baby boy? Did something happen? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, Morai, but Randi isn’t.” I tell her about Miranda’s phone call to me the day before, what happened to her, and that I’m in Tennessee right now.
“This asshole took everything from her, Morai. I mean, everything. She literally only has the clothes on her body and her ID. No money, no phone, no car.”
“That’s terrible,” my grandmother says. “What kind of person would do that?”
“I mean, I think we can agree there are a lot of not-so-great people in this world,” I say dryly.
“Morai, I know I’m asking a lot, but do you think Randi could come back to the ranch for a while?
Maybe she could help you and Athair for a few months, get her bearings while she tries to figure out what’s next?
She’ll need a place to stay and a way to earn some money so she can start over. ”
I shut my eyes tightly. Miranda always had it tough with my grandma, though she did warm up to her a little while Miranda worked on the ranch for a few months earlier this year before she just up and left overnight. I hope my grandma has thawed enough to agree to take in Miranda for a while.
“Yes, of course,” she says, and my eyes snap open.
“She can stay in the same cabin she stayed in last time. This is actually great timing. We’re approaching calving season and we’re expecting a few guests over the holidays.
As you know, there’s never a work shortage on the ranch, so we can certainly keep her busy. ”
My lungs expand with a cleansing inhale of the crisp morning air. “God, thank you, Morai. You’re the best.”
I continue to talk to my grandmother for another ten minutes as we figure out the details of Miranda’s arrival on the ranch.
“Okay, I’ll talk with Randi and let you know how it goes.
Hopefully she won’t fight me too much on this idea.
” I sigh, knowing how damn stubborn Miranda can be.
“Hyper-independent” is probably the word Dr. Seivert would use; that’s how she’s described me and my total inability to ask for help from… well, anyone.
“She won’t,” my grandmother says with conviction and a smile in her voice. “She’s strong-willed, but she knows when to accept help, especially from you.”
“I hope you’re right. I love you, Morai. So much.”
“Oh, baby boy, I love you more. Call when you’ve had a chance to talk to Miranda and we’ll get everything ready,” she says. “And then get home to Cat as soon as you can.”
I chuckle. “I’m planning on it.” I say my goodbyes before ending the conversation.
Instead of heading back into the room, I decide to find a place to grab some breakfast for Miranda.
I stop first at a gas station, fill up my tank, then grab a toothbrush and a touristy Tennessee—the Volunteer State hoodie for Miranda.
That girl needs some clothes, but I’m not comfortable picking out anything but a sweater.
It takes me a few minutes to find a decent-looking coffee shop where I stop and order some breakfast for takeout along with some coffee for Miranda.
I’m still not a coffee drinker, and I don’t think I ever will be.
It’s fucking disgusting to me, though Cat swears by it.
I just make a face whenever she offers me her cup, which makes her giggle every time.
Man, it’s only been forty hours since I’ve seen her, but already my entire being yearns for her.
It’s weird how fast I can flip between feeling responsible for someone else’s survival and craving the touch of the one girl who makes me feel like being in her orbit is the only thing that keeps my bullshit from swallowing me whole. As always, I send her a quick text.
Me:
Morning, baby. I have a plan on how to help Randi. I just hope she agrees to go for it. Fingers crossed that she does, and I should be home by tomorrow night. I love you so damn much. Miss your perfect face. And body…
***
When I get back to the motel, Miranda’s up and the bathroom door is closed—clearly, she’s in there. So I walk to the round brown table and set the coffee cup down, then take the food out of the plastic bag.
A moment later, the bathroom door unlocks.
“Holy shit,” Miranda squeals. I turn my head in her direction just as she quickly whirls around, turning her back to me.
She’s completely naked and I catch a glimpse of the familiar, dainty tattoo of scripture that stretches the length of her spine from her neck down to her tailbone before my head is turned resolutely in the other direction.
“Fuck, I didn’t hear you come back,” Miranda grumbles and hastily grabs her clothes from the bed.
“Sorry Randi, but didn’t you expect me to come back at all? Why the fuck would you walk out of the bathroom naked?” I ask her through gritted teeth.
“I figured I’d hear you. I forget how fucking quiet you always are,” she mutters. I hear her slip into her clothes.
The flash of her tattoo—the same one I used to trace with my fingertips—burns behind my eyes, even after I slam them shut.
I turn my back to her like it might erase the image.
But it doesn’t. I hate how easily memory slips past defenses.
“Yeah, well, it’s a habit I formed when I realized being noisy around my mother would result in pain,” I growl.
“I’ll try to make more of a fucking ruckus next time. ”
“Okay, you’re safe now,” she says with a laugh. “No more sexy naked babes.”
I open my eyes and turn to her. “Maybe next time just take your damn clothes into the bathroom with you. Just a suggestion,” I say, the crease still deep on my brow. “I brought you breakfast.” I nod toward the food on the table. “And a toothbrush and a hoodie.”
“Aww, thank you Rony,” she says, her voice much less tired-sounding than yesterday. “Is that where you went? To get me breakfast, a toothbrush, and a sweater?” She opens the small paper bag, pulls out the croissant, and inspects it briefly before taking a large bite.
“Partially.” I sit down on the creaky bed. “I came up with a plan.”
She stops chewing. “Oh, yeah?” she asks, her mouth full. “Care to share it with me?”
“So, I spoke to my grandmother earlier,” I start.
Miranda’s eyes widen. “I told her what happened, and she said she’d be happy to have you.
” At this, Miranda’s brow furrows, but I don’t give her the chance to argue.
“It’s not a handout, Randi. You’d be working on the ranch, just like last time.
You’d stay in the same cabin. You’d earn your keep.
I think it’s the best option to give you the chance to start over, get your feet back underneath you, save up some money and figure out your next steps.
You’ll have my truck available to drive around while you’re there.
You’d have a place to stay, you’d have work, you could even check in on your dad from time to—”
Miranda throws herself into my arms, holding on to me for dear life.
“Rony, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you…” she sobs.
I blink at her. I honestly thought she’d fight me, would protest, would argue about going back to Montana to live on my grandparents’ ranch. This was way easier than I expected. But I’m not complaining.