4. Chapter 4
Aspen
It’s pretty rare that I eat breakfast at my parents’ house, but when you forget to grocery shop and by forget, I mean completely procrastinate, you stop by your parents’ house and eat. I get to hang out with my favorite people and I don’t have to cook, so it’s a win-win.
My dad, who looks more and more like Sam Elliot every day, takes a sip of his coffee. Most of the time when I eat breakfast here, the crew is already gone, starting their workday. Today’s a slow morning on the ranch, so we all get to start our day out together.
“Which one of you yahoos would be willing to run to the city and pick up the trailer I bought off Craigslist? I’d go myself but your mother volunteered me for a lunch date with her friend and her husband,” he says with a grimace.
My dad retired months ago, but it must have only been in thought, because he still gives us random tasks to get done. Lucky for me, I only get volunteered for shopping trips. He hates buying clothes, I love it. Once again, a win-win.
“We’ve got our second-to-last prenatal appointment, sorry,” Mav says as he shovels a steaming pile of cheesy scrambled eggs into his mouth.
I cut off a piece of my own breakfast, a stack of pancakes and scrambled eggs, and shovel it in.
My mother was blessed with the special skill of being able to cook exceptionally well without ever even cracking open a cookbook.
I did not inherit that skill from her, unfortunately.
I’m the only one who lives off the ranch, and it’s usually around dinner time every day when I question that choice.
But it gives me a bit more freedom and a place to call my own, so I guess I can make the twenty-minute drive.
“Willow needs me to do some work on the cabins; they’re all booked out and this is the only three-day span we have to get some repairs done. If I bail on her, you will have to bail her out of jail.”
He isn’t joking. Willow left town for ten years to give New York a try and came back with a spine of steel. I take notes from her on how I want to handle my future relationships. Ava is the same way, but Maverick is so damn smitten, I don’t think she ever has to ask for anything twice.
It’s cute watching them all start their lives. Cute, and a bit of a gut punch, because for the second time in my life, I’m the odd one out. Well, I guess Rhett is in the same boat as me.
I remind myself that I am very happy with our current situation.
No stress. No commitments. I still get to live my life however I want.
There’s a twinge in my gut though. Subtle enough to ignore, but persistent enough where I can’t forget that deep down, I want what they all have.
The kind of love that makes bystanders nauseated. My time will come, I know that.
“I can go,” Rhett offers up, looking at me. “You want to come, or do you have big plans today?” He asks.
“Guess I can volunteer a few hours of my time to pull my weight around here,” I joke.
I do feel guilty for not being the most involved on the ranch. It helps that the boys live and breathe for it, though. They love it; it fulfills them.
There's a million things I love about the ranch: the land, the way the wind blows through the pines and leaves everything smelling fresh and clean, and so much more, but the truth is ranching just isn't one of them.
“Thanks, I’ll write down the address.”
We finish up breakfast and head to Rhett’s truck. The Wyoming wind adds a chilly bite to the air this morning.
“Do you want to get coffee at the shop you like?” Rhett asks.
“How do you remember that?” We’ve never visited that coffee shop together; I've only yapped to him about it a couple times. It’s about thirty minutes out of town, and I use any excuse to go out of town just to get a cherry almond breve from there.
“I listen to you…most of the time,” he jokes.
I give his shoulder a shove. He, being built like a Greek god, doesn’t budge. He opens my door for me and closes it as I take my seat.
Thirty minutes in, I've got my coffee, and my body wiggles with joy.
“Doing your happy dance, must be one good coffee.” He shakes his head with a wide grin.
Sometimes I forget how much time we’ve spent together, and how well he knows me. Every now and then he finishes my sentences, and he always knows just what to say.
Nope. I pinch myself to sidetrack my thought process.
Thoughts like these are forbidden. It’s how I’ve kept my heart safe. Casually sleeping with a guy you had a major crush on is not one of my wisest decisions. But somehow, I've been able to keep myself in check with firm rules of my own.
Number one, no sleepovers. If I happen to doze off, when I wake up, no matter the time, I leave.
Number two, no day dreaming. No imagining what life would be like if we jumped.
If we took this to the next level. Those thoughts only end with the harsh realization that Rhett doesn’t want that, for whatever reason.
He’s a good guy; in fact, he’s my dream guy, so if he says he can’t, then I should respect that.
I’m thinking of adding a third rule of attempting to date and meet someone. Because sooner or later this has to end, or I will end up all alone. I’m allergic to cats, so I can’t be a crazy cat lady, but I have considered getting a fish.
Sometimes I wonder if I should just try and see if he’s changed his mind.
We haven’t talked about it for a while though and it’s intimidating to put myself out there.
Even worse, I don’t want to ruin what we have.
It’s worked for me. It’s like having the best of both worlds.
Someone to have fun with, excellent sex, yes, but still being able to live for myself. Not having to be tied to someone.
“Whatcha thinking ‘bout?” Rhett asks, putting his hand over mine at the console.
Guess he noticed I was in my head; he always notices.
I debate how honest I want to be. Maybe now is a good time to check back in with where his head is at; maybe things have changed for him. As much as I try to gaslight myself, I know deep down I long for something deeper than fun.
“Just about you and me,” I start, wanting to say more.
His body goes stiff and he immediately pulls his hand from mine.
“Aspen, I still can’t. If that’s what you’re thinking.” His voice is gruff and it sounds pained. His eyes avoid mine, but I can see the tightness in them, echoing the pain in his voice.
I have so many questions, but I don’t think I should have to beg for answers. If he wanted to give them, he would. He isn’t a bad guy; he’s the farthest from it. There’s something he’s hiding, and maybe someday he will feel safe enough to tell me.
“That’s fine, I just wanted to make sure we were still on the same page,” I lie.
Lying to protect him from disappointing me.
I can shoulder that; I do it all the time.
Take the brunt of it to make it easier on those around me.
I like doing that; I like being the one who makes life easier for other people.
Taking care of them, whatever that includes.
He relaxes at that, and I move my eyes back forward; he’s not the only one who gets to hide the truth.
I tuck the little feelings for him that have tried to escape from my carefully guarded box. This is still good. He’s still my best friend, sex included or not. Starting tomorrow, I’m doubling down on that whole no daydreaming thing.