Chapter 2
Perhaps being a bitch to the cowboy who owns the ranch I was trespassing on wasn’t my smartest idea. In my defense, he caught me off guard, and I really hate being surprised.
For a year, I’ve been sneaking onto Knight Falls Ranch.
I was careful at first, hyperaware of every sound, but it’s obvious I’ve become too relaxed with it.
I only started because I needed to feel something other than the crushing weight of grief, and doing something reckless had made me feel alive.
It was a high I wanted to keep getting, so I just kept going back, every single morning, even when there was snow on the ground.
For that single hour where I swim, I feel weightless, like the water is enough to keep all the bad at bay.
“So, you’re not going to go back?” Ashley leans her hip on the bar as she dries the glass I pass to her.
I can’t lie, so I say nothing at all, turning my back on my best friend to busy myself with the cash in the register. I’ve counted it three times already.
“Niamh,” She sighs, “Tell me you’re not going to go back.”
“I can’t do that,” I wince.
I shouldn’t go back. I’ve been caught now, and they’ll likely have people waiting for me if I do, but it’s literally like a drug.
Ever since my father died a year ago, I’ve been struggling, dragging my feet just to get by and I fear if I don’t get that small break, that tiny ounce of freedom, I might succumb to the grief and the pressure knocking at my door.
For the longest time I was doing everything right, I had the bar on the straight and narrow, turning over a decent profit every month, my father was getting the care he needed but at some point, somewhere along the line, I lost my footing and with it, I spiraled.
The debts started to mount up, first a couple of thousand, then tens of thousands, now… nearly half a million.
It was a no-brainer acting as a guarantor for my father’s medical debts. I didn’t even question it, even when he did, I just wanted to keep him alive, but I lost him in the end, anyway. Now, I don’t have the money to pay the debt.
The bar still does well for itself, it makes enough to keep it open, and my staff paid, but whatever is left doesn’t cover even a quarter of what I need to both survive and pay the bills.
No one knows that though, I keep that shit close to my chest. I already deal with enough pity from the folk in this town, I don’t need to become a charity case too.
“Niamh,” Ashley touches my shoulder to get my attention, pulling me out of the hole my mind just fell in. I turn to my friend, the one who has been there through it all, and give her a smile, one that hides all the darkness and pretends it doesn’t exist.
“It’s fine,” I brush her off. “I won’t get caught again. Promise.”
“That’s not the point!” Her voice takes on a high-pitched tone that gives away her frustration. “What if they shoot you!?”
I roll my eyes, “They’re not going to shoot me, that’s a little dramatic.”
“Is it?” She shrieks, “They have all that land they can hide your body on.”
“Have you been watching true crime again?” I give her a quirked brow.
She knows she can’t watch those shows; she overthinks and then panics about it for a month straight.
Dylan, her husband is usually pretty good at stopping her, but he’s been away on business the last week and she’s been left unsupervised with the TV remote.
“Only one.” Her shoulders sag. “Okay, maybe two.”
I pin her with my best, are you lying to me? face and she breaks.
“Fine! Seven.”
“Seven!?”
“You know I don’t sleep well when D is away,” She sighs.
“So you thought to combat that with shows that scare you?”
“Ugh,” She groans, “Don’t tell Dylan.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I chuckle and round the bar, plucking the keys from the hook as I go so I can open for the lunchtime rush.
I opened Sunstone Saloon five years ago with my dad before he got sick.
It had always been a dream of his, to open a bar that had that old western feel to it, from the swinging doors to the wood-burning stove.
He was obsessed with them, and I have to admit there’s some charm to this place.
It’s even built on the foundations of an original saloon that was here back when the town was founded, and it brings in the tourists.
We’re busy all year, but we make the most money from April through to October when people travel here to hike in the mountains or experience what it would be like to work on a ranch.
The Knights have always offered that for as long as I can remember, and a few smaller farms have opened up in the area to cash in on the business, though they’re never as busy as Knight Falls.
I get the doors open and head back to Ashley.
“Niamh,” She catches my attention just as our first few customers trickle in. “Just be careful going back, yeah? I know I can’t stop you, but I worry about you.”
I swallow thickly, glancing away to hide the heavy shadows I feel gathering in my eyes, but she continues.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt. I’m only swimming.”
But truly, I can’t know that. No one really knows the Knights. Sure, they’re small-town royalty, the ones who can do no wrong, but they’re also the quiet type. They keep their secrets close to their chests, which is a feat in this town, all things considered.
But I don’t know how to explain to her how much I need that hour in the mornings. I don’t want to fall apart.
I’m a Calloway. We don’t fall apart. We fix it. And we move on.
I’m not entirely sure how I’m meant to do that, and I am trying, but the debt keeps mounting up, the letters keep coming along with the threats.
There’s a very real possibility I could lose the bar if I don’t figure it out.
I don’t care about the small things, the TV that’s never used, the little jewelry stashed in a plastic tub upstairs — but this bar and my truck, those are the only things I have left.
It feels as if I am holding onto a fraying rope and with every day that passes, the threads just keep popping and there are not many left to go before the whole thing snaps.
The bar gets too busy for us to keep going on with the topic, and I’m quietly thankful for it.
I love my best friend. We’ve been through it all together, her wedding, children, my dad but there’s a certain level of shame I feel.
I don’t want people to know the struggle, not even Ashley.
She has it all together, and that’s right, that’s expected, but here I am, barely clawing my way through life, wading through the thick stuff and praying to find solid ground.
How could you be so stupid?
I wasn’t thinking of the long run when I signed all that paperwork, when I begged doctors and nurses to keep him alive.
I follow the last customer to the door just after midnight, locking it up as soon as they’re out on the street and walk through the now empty space, picking up glasses as I go which I place on the bar to deal with in the morning after my daily swim.
It’s a routine I’ve picked up. I get to bed around one, sleep about four or five hours, get up to sneak away to the ranch and then be back for the morning clean around eight or nine.
We are open seven days a week all year round, I’m used to the long days and the lack of sleep now, but it doesn’t mean I’m not bone tired when I do eventually fall into bed.
Pushing through the staff door, I turn and unlock the door that opens up to a narrow set of stairs that leads up to the small studio apartment I had put in when I was renovating this place.
It’s not big by any means since I needed most of the space up here for storage, but it does me just fine with a small open-plan kitchen and living room, which doubles up as my bedroom, and a decent sized private bathroom.
I throw my keys onto the kitchen counter and head through to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes that smell like alcohol and fried food and hit the button to turn on the shower. Steam rises from the water, and I don’t waste a second to climb under the spray, a sigh parting my lips.
Standing for a few minutes, I let the water roll over me only to be assaulted with the memory of this morning, my skin tingling as I remember the way his eyes had rolled down me, almost like a physical touch.
He’d sat proudly on the back of his painted mare, that dark cowboy hat of his casting deep shadows across his face.
I haven’t had many run-ins with Roman Knight, the oldest of three brothers, he’s the most elusive one.
He seems almost untouchable, like he has a steel wall around him that no one can penetrate.
If I hadn’t been so desperate to get out of there in fear of being arrested, I’d have sat and appreciated the beauty of the man.
His dark hair curled around his temples from beneath his hat and at the nape of his neck, and a thick groomed beard framed his mouth.
A straight, strong nose and brows that sit low above eyes the color the fall leaves would be envious of.
They reminded me of whiskey, a mix of browns and ambers, almost inhuman and haunting.
There was pride in the way he sat atop his horse, with his broad shoulders stretching out the plaid shirt that had been unbuttoned at the collar to show just a slight smattering of hair on his chest.
What was he doing out at the falls, anyway? I’ve never seen a single person out that far, and sure, it’s technically his property, but what does he care if I’m swimming on a single part of it? I’m not harming anyone.
I’ll just be more careful. I’m a great swimmer, always have been, and there are plenty of spots to hide in should he decide to come out that way again. Ashley has nothing to worry about, I won’t get caught again.