Chapter Seven
The sun sets, hues of orange and pink painting the sky as I drive through the mountains, following the curve of the road with classic rock playing lightly through my speakers.
I’m just a few minutes away from Fox Den Ranch, my parents’ property out in Deerbrook Valley. This far from the city is quiet and serene. I can think out here and just be me. Out on the ranch I’m not a player in the MLB, I’m just Gareth.
When I make a left onto the unmarked gravel road, I anticipate seeing a few cattle out in the field grazing, but they must already be tucked into their barns because there’s nothing but the wind rustling through the overgrown pasture.
When I pass our neighbors at Wild Brook Ranch—if you can call them neighbors when so many miles stretch between us—I notice a guy I’ve never seen before just inside the ranch’s gate.
He seems out of place wearing all black and sporting a man bun, but I mind my own business and keep driving.
Another five or six minutes pass before I’m turning onto our dirt road.
My headlights reflect off the lake settled behind my parents’ ranch, and I coast until I reach the house, parking in front of the garage.
Killing the engine, I get out of my truck and am immediately greeted by chaos.
“Whimsey!” a woman’s voice calls out, her tone nervous. “Whimsey! C’mon girl!” A high-pitched whistle sounds next, and out of the shadows, between the garage and the barns, steps Jessie.
Jessie is the caretaker of the ranch and lives on the property full time in the guest house my parents built for her nearly twenty years ago.
When she came to work for my parents, Jessie was in her late-forties and newly divorced.
Her kids were grown, so she settled right into a simpler life here and looked over the property, the animals, and me and my brother whenever we were here.
“Jessie, what’s wrong?” Hurrying toward her, I see tear tracks lining her cheeks as she wraps her arms around her middle.
“Whimsey took off earlier, a few hours before the sun set, and she hasn’t come back. She always comes back.”
“Okay, it’s okay.” I wrap the woman who’s come to be like a grandmother to me in my arms, and give her a reassuring hug. “I’ll find her, alright? Go inside and get your jacket, it’s freezing out here.”
The wind’s picked up, and despite it being warm earlier today, there’s a chill in the air that’s amplified by the gusts.
“You’ll find her?” she asks, her expression worried.
I nod and promise, “I won’t sleep until I do.”
A lump lodges in my throat as I look over at the now-darkened field. To the west is the small lake our ranch borders, but to the north is the edge of the woods that rest at the bottom of the mountain.
Whimsey could have made it to the dirt road, but as a nosy, adventurous thirteen-year-old Australian shepherd, I know she’s wandered beyond the tree line and more than likely can’t find her way back.
We adopted her as a one-year-old rescue, and Jessie fell head-over-heels in love with the pup, so we decided to let her live on the ranch.
Originally, her name was Whiskey—named by my dad—but the name Whimsey stuck one summer when Dylan and Indy came out over the Fourth of July, and Indy renamed her.
My heart sinks when the memory of Indy falling in love with her plays through my mind like a movie.
“Oh my God! Who is this?” Indy squeals, dropping to her knees in the dirt the second she hops out of my beat-up Suburban.
Her hair’s pulled up into a messy pile on her head, and a strand of pink from the front pieces falls in front of her face as she lets Whiskey kiss her, slobber coating her cheeks and nose, but Indy couldn’t care less.
“Our ranch dog, Whiskey.” I laugh when Whiskey knocks Indy over, climbing into her lap.
“He’s just the most precious thing! Aren’t you, my guy? Aren’t you!” She scratches behind Whiskey’s ears, peppering kisses against her fur.
Behind me, the passenger door slams shut as Dylan gets out of the truck and makes his way toward us.
“He’s actually a she.” I laugh as I feel my best friend come stand beside me. His hands are in his pockets, his brows pinched.
“Whiskey’s a boy's name,” Indy quips, pulling the dog further into her lap. She’s completely sitting in the dirt now without a care in the world.
Kneeling next to them, I give Whiskey a couple pats between the ears. “So what would you suggest instead?” I ask Indy. Flirtation is evident in my tone, and I can feel Dylan’s stare searing into my back.
Gripping my wrist, Indy uses me for stability as she stands. I follow her lead, and Whiskey rolls onto her back at our feet.
“Whimsey.” Indy nods. “It’s close enough to her name now where she won’t get confused, but it suits her better.” She grins, satisfied with her choice.
“Whimsey,” I muse, my lips pursing. Crossing my arms over my chest, I turn to Dylan. “Whaddya think, Dyl? Whimsey instead of Whiskey?”
“I guess,” he answers, but he’s looking out into the pasture at the horses, not really paying attention to us anymore.
Indy rolls her eyes. “It’s perfect.”
“Then it’s settled.” I reach down and pet Whimsey behind the ears, never breaking eye contact with Indy. “If you think it’s perfect, then that’s what we’ll call her.”
Jessie pulls me from the memory, handing me a flashlight. A fresh line of tears sits on her bottom lashes, and I squeeze her shoulder appreciatively as I grab the flashlight with the other hand.
“I’ll find her,” I reiterate before heading back to my truck and pulling a flannel jacket from the backseat.
The door slams shut, echoing across the quiet ranch, and I set my sights on the woods.
Gravel crunches under my Nikes, then the crunching turns to a softer murmur of dry grass breaking.
As I walk, I shove my arms into the sleeves of my jacket.
“Whimsey!” I call, my voice echoing through the open field. “C’mon girl!”
The scent of damp earth grows stronger the closer I get to the tree line, and I shine my light past the thick trunks of the redwoods.
There’s no dog barking in response, or jingling of her collar. Instead, the woods are quiet, sans for the faint hoot of an owl as it wakes up.
Dammit, I curse, knowing she’s somewhere deep in there. The last thing I want to do is trek through the woods, but so many of us love this damn dog. I'd be gutted if something happened to her, and I made a promise to Jessie.
And Indy… She’d be devastated to hear that Whimsey is lost—she still asks about her even to this day.
I will find her.
“Whims!”
She never wanders this far, and it sends a spike of fear jolting through my bloodstream. She’s thirteen with stiff joints and cataracts. I’m pretty sure she’s half-deaf.
I tighten my hold on the flashlight and drag my other hand down my face.
All I want to do is relax.
I try not to think about Indy the further I pad through the forest, but everything makes me think of her, so of course this does too.
She only came out to the ranch that one time, and I’ve been dying to bring her back since. But there’s never been another opportunity to.
Dammit though, I want to call her. I want her to talk to me while I find the dog that meant so much to her that weekend she spent here. The dog she still buys treats for off Chewy and asks about nonchalantly whenever she has the chance.
I angle the light down, keeping an eye out for paw prints or any indication Whimsey may have gone in this direction. My steps are careful not to disturb the forest floor, and I step over fallen branches, moving further into the cool covering.
“Whimsey! C’mon girl!” I call again, stopping to listen.
My chest tightens as I’m met with silence.
Winding through the trees, pushing closer to the lake, my mind drifts back to Indy.
I picture her so clearly—the upturn of her lips as she fights a smile whenever our eyes meet, the way she bites the inside of her lip whenever she’s holding back from saying what she’s really thinking.
The feeling of her body against mine as she melts into the kisses I steal from her every time we’re together.
The forest thins as the dirt loosens, the sight of the lake coming into view. There’s a fallen tree log along the side of the water my dad and I moved when Cody and I were kids, so we’d have a place to rest against while tossing rocks into the shallows.
Through the dark, I catch movement, and my pulse quickens with hope.
“Whimsey?” I call, my voice cracking. C’mon, please be her.
Another memory of Indy slips into the forefront of my mind as I take off into a jog.
The sun’s setting, reflecting off the lake as it casts its warm orange glow against the darkening sky. Indy’s back’s to me, her arms crossed as she looks out at the water.
My heart skips with every step closer I take toward her. She went out for a walk about thirty minutes ago, and when Dylan fell asleep on the couch, I couldn’t help but to sneak out in hopes of having a moment alone with her.
“I know you’re behind me,” she muses, even though my steps are quiet along the dirt leading down to the lake.
“How?” I ask, coming up beside her.
“I could feel you.”
My breath catches in my throat. Who knew four little words could hold so much validation? Proof that I’m not the only one feeling this insane pull between us.
God, I want her. I’ve wanted her since I first laid eyes on her a couple of years ago. The small moments of weakness we’ve shared have only made me want her more.
But her brother’s my best friend, and I’m not willing to risk that friendship. Dylan’s the only one in my life—aside from maybe Indy—who treats me like a person, not a prodigy.
And Cody, but as my brother he doesn’t count.
There’s a line between us I try my damndest to respect, but right now, with the last rays of sun sparkling over the water and Indy glowing beside me, all I want to do is plow past it.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Indy, I—”