Chapter 7
Weston
“I’ve gotta go,” I call over my shoulder as I pocket my phone and make my way to my truck.
Rhett’s voice hollers out from behind me, “Where are you going?”
“Willow called, she needs help.” I leave it at that because none of them need an explanation. If she calls, I come running. This time, literally.
We had just finished checking out the east pasture, and I’ve been debating on moving the cows to some newer land to give some of the old grass time to grow back.
My heart about stopped when I saw her name with the contact picture come up.
We were eighteen, with our hoodies on and her in my lap at a bonfire in high school. The best days of my life.
I hop into my truck and get the key in the ignition.
I haven’t had enough time alone with her, and maybe this can be my shot to show her I’m not an ass.
We’ve talked about work a lot but I’ve been terrified to ask about her life now.
Terrified to learn more about the man who put a ring on her finger.
I need to know if she’s happy. If she’s going to be here, I want to get to know her again.
Really, I want things how they were then, but if I can’t have that then being her friend will be better than being her enemy.
I’ve made it to town in record speed many a time, but this might be my new record. I pull in front of her grandpa’s house in exactly fifteen minutes from when she called. The ranch is just a little more than twenty minutes away.
She sees my truck and hops off the front porch step.
Today she looks like the Willow I know and love.
A T-shirt, pair of jeans and some sneakers.
While I will admit, her ass looks phenomenal when she wears heels, to the point where I’ve had to recite the alphabet and think about anything else when she’s walking by me to distract my wandering thoughts.
Her in blue jeans will always be my favorite.
Getting out of the truck, I swing to her side and open the door as she walks up, ready to hop in.
“I can get my own door.” She says it as if she’s trying to educate me.
“Not if you’re riding in my truck.” I nod my head, indicating for her to climb in. “You look good today.”
Her head whips toward me and a rush of color spreads across her cheeks. “Oh, uhm, thanks. It’s laundry day.”
“The work wardrobe is great, but you’ve always looked good in a simple pair of jeans.”
She nervously bows her head, something she did when she was feeling shy or at a loss for words when we were kids and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. I close the door and walk around the truck, getting back in.
“Thank you for coming to get me,” she says quietly from the passenger seat.
“Like I said, it’s no problem,” I respond before putting the keys in the ignition and starting the truck.
“How’s your grandpa doing?”
“Judging by his fridge I’d guess he’s got some high cholesterol and high blood sugar, but he’s good.” Her lips tilt up in an unintentional smile as she looks out the window. There’s probably not a person in this world she loves more than her grandpa.
“I’m sure he’s doing just fine. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s still sharp as a tack.
” We pull out on the road. All the houses on this block are brick.
The lawns are all manicured, and aspen trees fill the rest of the space.
I can’t believe there was a time in my life I didn’t love this little town. Its charm is unbeatable.
“Have you seen him a lot?” she asks, surprise lacing her tone as she turns her head to study my face.
Not wanting to show all my cards and potentially make her mad I reply with the safest answer, “It’s a small town, bound to run into each other a lot.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth.
“That’s true. I almost forgot what it was like, everyone always knowing everything about you. Secrets are basically illegal.”
“Yeah, but that also means you have a lot of people ready to drop everything and come help you.”
“It’s not like that in New York. Well, some people are kind and helpful, but it’s rare to run into people you know.
Most of the time, you’re just a nobody in a sea of strangers.
” There’s a sadness to the way she says it, and I feel a slight pang in my chest knowing that she might not have a community of people supporting her in there as she did here.
Her response sparks the question, “Are you happy in New York?”
“Are you asking as someone who used to be my friend or as my client?” She turns her head toward me with her left eyebrow arched high and her voice inquisitive.
“We both know I’m more than just a client. At least, I hope so. I may not know you anymore, but I’m not a stranger. I don’t want to be.” Conviction rings out of my tone.
She lets out a deep sigh and chews on her lip. That usually means she’s overthinking.
I reach my hand over and put it on top of hers to get her attention.
Her gaze snaps down to where my hand is laying on hers before her eyes shoot to mine. It takes everything in me to pry it off her. I just want to be close to her, feel her touch again.
“Listen, I know I have done some things in the past that you hate me for. And it’s well deserved, but I would really like to move forward and at least be friends. It’s nice having you back here, and I’d like to make the most of it.”
I’m almost expecting a full-on ass chewing, to be honest, I’d deserve it. But she shocks me instead by simply saying, “Okay.”
I wasn’t quite prepared for the conversation to go this way. I had mentally argued with her in my head for forgiveness and for all the reasons she should be willing to be friendly, so now I’m stumped into an awkward silence.
Smooth, Weston, smooth.
“Okay.” I mirror her response because it’s the only thing I can think of for a few seconds. Now that I have the door to her cracked open, I want to hear more.
“So, tell me about your life in New York. Is it everything you hoped it would be?”
She looks at me and stares for a few seconds.
I can visibly see a few of her walls falling by the softening of her face.
The relief I feel at getting to do this with her, talk about life, is staggering.
I wasn’t sure she’d ever consider letting me in.
I just need a crack in the door, just a small piece of her to mine again.
She crinkles a brow before looking up to the ceiling of my truck, letting out a weighted sigh, “Honestly, not really.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“I don’t know anymore. I have friends, but we’re all in a race to climb the corporate ladder. I just thought my life would look different by now.”
Part of me wonders if she, too, envisioned me there. My life doesn’t look the way I planned either. I’m not lonely per se, I’ve got the best friends in the world, but everyone is starting to move on and I feel… stuck.
“That’s okay, you’ve still got plenty of time left to paint your life the way you want. You’re Willow, you’re capable of anything,” I assure her.
“Okay, Oprah,” she says sarcastically with her eyebrows high, but her shoulders noticeably relax, and I’ll take it as a win.
“First of all, I take that as a compliment. Second of all, I’m serious.
If you’re not happy, find out why, and change it.
” I take another turn, now on the road to the ranch.
I love this part about being in a small town.
Town is close, but if you need a getaway to the woods, it’s right here.
Pine trees line the road as we make the faintest incline up to the ranch.
“I have always loved your positivity, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that easy. It’s not always black and white.” She starts picking at her nails again as she looks out the window, as if she’s lost in thought.
At least she’s admitting she still likes things about me. “I never said it would be easy, but you’re in control of your own life. And if you feel like you’re not, take back the reins.”
She looks over, her features visibly softer. The corner of her lips even turns up ever so slightly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” I say with a playful wink, “and could you repeat that again so I can get it on camera. No one ever thinks I’m right and this would be great evidence.”
Her laugh is silent, but it’s there. I see her chest shake in my peripheral vision, and her smile makes a full appearance. It’s been years since I’ve been the one to make her smile, and damn does it feel good.
We pull up to the entrance of the ranch, I drive under the Windy Peaks Ranch sign, and down the bumpy road. The setting sun begins to cast rays through the treetops. It’s almost metaphorical of how I’m feeling. There’s a little peek of light coming through, and her name is Willow Rae.
I pull in front of her cabin and see she’s even cleaned that up nicer. The small porch it has is all dusted and there’s a small planter of flowers.
I put the car in park, and as she unclicks her seatbelt, I fly out of the door, rushing to get to her side, and open the door up. I’m going to make her remember all the reasons she used to love me.
When I open her door, she deadpans at me and rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to do that every time, you know.”
“I’ll decide and I decided that I want to.” With a shake of her head, she jumps out the truck.
“Okay, well thanks. I guess I will talk to you tomorrow.”
I walk back to the driver side and get in. My eyes find her again as she stops at the door and turns to wave to me and I feel a rush of nostalgia. All those times I dropped her off at her doorstep.
I pull out and start my drive to my house, replaying every last minute I’ve had with her. We’re getting somewhere, and we might be moving slower than molasses but at least it’s something. My thoughts of the past get interrupted by a vibrating sound from the passenger seat.
Willow's phone is halfway wedged where the bottom of the seat meets the top. I pull it out and see the new bane of my existence ringing. Should send his ass to voicemail, but I'm working on being her friend, which means I have to answer.
“Hello, this is Weston. Willow accidentally left her phone. I was just turning back to take it to her.” I pull over and flip a U at the spot where the road gets a little wider. We used to pull off here to walk to the river just through the trees.
“Sounds like her. I have no clue how she manages businesses just fine but can’t seem to keep track of her own things.” He sighs deeply, as if her accidentally leaving her phone in my truck is a major inconvenience to him.
So, it’s official. I fucking hate this guy.
“Well, she’s doing a great job at the ranch. We’re all very appreciative to have her help.” I try not to insinuate it’s just me who’s happy to have her here, because I don’t want to cause problems for her.
“Let’s just hope she’s better at remembering the things she needs for you than she is herself.” He laughs a little this time and it sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
He so freely brings her down. No fucking wonder she seems like a shell of herself, I bet this assbag has put her down so much she’s lost her spark. My anger courses through me so hotly that I have to squeeze my steering wheel to keep myself from chucking this phone out the window.
I don’t know who the fuck this guy thinks he is, but over my dead body will he speak about her like this. Is this what she has been going through while she’s been gone? The thought makes me sick to my stomach.
“Yeah, to be honest with you, city slicker, I don’t think I like the way you’re talking about her.
She’s amazing at what she does. Even better, she’s a good person all around.
You might want to pull your head out of your ass before she wises up and realizes she’s too good for you, not the other way around. ”
“Excuse me?”
“Did I stutter? Respect your damn fiancée and quit trying to shit talk her under the table. That’s pathetic. If you can’t treat her right, I know a guy who can.”
“Is this some backwoods way of trying to insult me?” he asks incredulously. As if no one has dared to ever put him in his place before. Well, today’s the day, mother fucker.
“No, if I was insulting you, you’d know it. This is a man's way of calling out another man for being a bitch. Step up and have your woman's back. Unlike you, I have things to do besides talk shit about your fiancée, so I’ll be sure to let her know you called.”
I hang up the phone before he has a chance to answer. It’s a good thing I have a minute to clear my head because right now, I want to ask what the hell she sees in that guy. But that will only lead me to being the overbearing ex-boyfriend, and that won’t get me anywhere.
I pull in front of her cabin, a faint glow comes from the window. Jumping out of the truck, I head to her front door and knock, holding the phone out in front of me.
She swings the door open and looks at me, and then down at my hand. “Oh, thank God. I was wondering where the hell I left that thing. I was hoping it wasn’t on the curb at my grandpa's house.”
“Nope, it must have fallen out of your pocket. Josh called. He seems…” I can’t quite find a word to describe him. He oozes little dick energy and arrogance.
“Please tell me you were nice to him.” She snatches the phone from my hands.
“I was very nice. I told him you would call him back and that you’re doing an amazing job.” This is the loosest version of the truth known to man, but I don’t want her worrying.
“Oh, well, thanks,” she says, a faint blush coating her beautiful face, and I make a mental note to compliment her more. It’s clear she’s not getting any praise from her fiancé and I'll be damned if she doesn’t feel appreciated for everything she’s doing to help me on the ranch.
“You really are doing great. I’m going to head back, but just holler if you need me.”
“Okay, thanks, Weston.” She holds the phone up.
“No problem.” I put my hands in my jeans to stop myself from reaching out to her. It feels too natural, regardless of the time that’s passed. It’s taking all my willpower not to pull her into my arms, breathe in her scent, and hold her like she’s mine.
The good news is now I know my competition, and he can’t hold a candle to the way I know how to love her.
She’s going to learn that she deserves to be loved the way I treat her every day.
It comes as easy as breathing for me. This dumbass doesn’t know what he’s started.
I’m a man on a mission and I’m gunning to get my girl back.