3. Ozzy
Ozzy
“ T hat damn goat has always been a pain in the ass,” Morris mutters, squinting at the sandwich on the tray in front of him like it might suddenly start talking back.
His voice is gravelly, worn down by years of hard work, exasperation from raising a bunch of wild-ass boys, and now the exhaustion of cancer.
I smirk, slipping off my heels and propping my feet on the edge of his bed, wiggling my painted toes. “I like him.” I shrug, swiping a chip off his plate without shame and popping it into my mouth.
Morris lets out a dry chuckle while shaking his bald head. “Of course you do. You’re just as much a pain in the ass as him.”
I slap my hand over my chest like he just declared his undying love for me. “Morris!” I gasp, my voice high-pitched with mock horror. “Don’t flirt with me like that. You’re a married man!”
He rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of his head. “Christ almighty, girl.” He mutters something under his breath before shoving the tray a little further away. “What happened to you?”
His sudden question throws me off balance. I lift a brow, keeping my face playful even as my stomach tightens. “Oh, you know. Lack of attentive parents, a failing public school system, an unfortunate habit of giving in to peer pressure…”
He waves a dismissive hand, unimpressed. “You know what I’m talking about.” His voice is softer now, less of its usual sharp edge. His shaky hand moves up to his own throat in a way that makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.
I look away, pretending to be engrossed in the television, but I feel the tightness creeping up my throat anyway.
Morris grunts, like he’s decided that’s enough emotion for the both of us. “You’d be halfway decent-looking without all that god-awful face paint,” he murmurs, leaning back against his pillow.
The tension in my chest eases instantly and I burst out laughing, crossing my arms as I shoot him a smug look. “You’d be halfway decent-looking if not for that giant stick up your ass.”
He snickers, shaking his head. Just like that, the moment passes, slipping away before it can get too heavy.
I tilt my head, studying him. “So, is it hereditary?”
“What’s that?”
“The stick up the ass.” I sigh dramatically. “Because Jackson— whew —that man is as stiff as they come.”
“Ah, yes, Jackson. My reliable, by-the-book son. Very black and white. He has a code, and he follows it to a tee.” He smirks slightly, eyes distant like he’s picturing his son as a kid. “He’s a good boy, but yeah… definitely a stick wedged firmly up there.”
I snort. “Can’t believe none of your kids are married or have any kids of their own.” I grab the tray with my tattooed foot, shoving it back toward him.
Morris sighs, picking up a chip and crunching on it, though his eyes remain distant.
“Derek, my oldest, was married once. But it ended terribly.” He shakes his head.
“That girl broke his damn heart. The other boys were there when it happened—big fight, ugly thing—and I think it scared Jackson and Carter. Carter became the casual man he is now; always keeping things light, never getting too attached. But Jackson? That boy wasn’t built for casual anything.
He’s loyal and honest to a fault. It’s a shame no one’s been willing to see past that tough exterior of his to the good man underneath. ”
Morris chews absently on a bite of the sandwich and I smile softly.
It’s the first real food I’ve gotten him to eat.
He’s not on any restricted diet, as he’s at the end stage, and the medication he takes is just to keep him comfortable.
It’s his depression that’s been causing him not to eat or drink, at least until now.
“And Jensen?” I ask, wanting to keep him talking.
Morris hums, thinking. “Jensen was engaged once. Hell, I think it was five years ago? Maybe more. Dorothy would know better. But that girl wasn’t any good for him.
” His lips curl downward. “Jensen’s a quiet boy, always has been.
If you ask me, he’s too sensitive for ranch life, but his brothers protect him.
Always have. Briana—his ex—dragged him to clubs, bars, places he didn’t belong—didn’t want to be.
Always picking fights with him, always needing money.
It was a mess. She and the boys’ sister got into a terrible fight, and Briana left town.
I was so happy when they split, but he never tried again.
Which is a shame, if you ask me, because I know that pretty redhead at the bar has been looking at him with hearts in her eyes for years. ”
“Fuckin’ bitches,” I joke, causing him to laugh loudly while shaking his head.
“You’re a foul-mouthed girl.”
“You’re a crotchety old man,” I quip back with a smirk on my face before we fall into a comfortable silence while watching his shows.
I glance over at him now and then, watching as he slowly but surely finishes his food.
It’s a small win, but I’ll take it. I may not be able to change the inevitable, but at least I can make sure Morris doesn’t feel like he’s fading alone.
And I can sure as hell keep him entertained while he’s still here.
The moment I step out of the shower, the cool air from the bathroom sends a shiver racing down my spine. I towel off quickly before pulling on a pair of loose cotton shorts and a tank top, my body still warm from the water.
I move carefully, stepping around the large window in the sitting room, my heart already kicking up a little too fast. The sheets I tacked up over the entryway are still holding, creating a barrier between me and the unease that claws at my chest whenever I’m in this room.
I hate it. I hate that window. I hate how much it creaks, how open it feels; how it sits on the far end of the house like some kind of forgotten wing. I hate that I’m the only one over here.
Curling into my makeshift cocoon on the couch, I turn on the TV, hoping the sound will drown out my thoughts.
But it’s useless. My mind latches onto Leroy—the scarred ring around his neck, that bare, hairless patch where the chain had been wrapped so tight it left an imprint.
I reach up absently, my fingers grazing over my own floral neck tattoo.
My skin prickles as I hit a raised edge, an old scar buried beneath the ink.
“Bad Brumby!”
“Stupid bitch, get on your knees.”
“Now bend over and stare out the window. I want you to see how close you are to your freedom as I fuck your cunt into submission.”
“I’m going to ruin you for all other men, Brumby. Now beg me for more!”
How long was I zoned out?
Glancing at my phone’s screen I see it’s four in the morning. 4:00 AM.
I swallow hard, shaking my head. I’ve been sitting here for hours, tracing my scars, falling down that dark hole again.
I can’t stay here.
Shoving my feet into sneakers, I grab a sports bra and a zip-up jacket, yanking them on as I head out. My feet move on autopilot—down the steps, out the door, into the crisp pre-dawn air.
The second the cool wind hits my face, my chest loosens just a little.
“Hey.”
Jackson’s deep voice comes out of nowhere, and I let out a startled shriek, my foot catching on the edge of the porch step. “What the fuck!” My arms flail, but gravity’s an unforgiving bitch; before I know it, I’m eating dirt.
“Shit, Ozzy, I’m sorry,” he says as he rushes over to me. “I was trying to let you know I was here, so I didn’t scare you.”
“Well, good job,” I snap, pulling out my phone and flipping on the flashlight. I angle it down at my knee, frowning at the little scratch right over my bee tattoo. “You scratched Bee-Yonce. Not cool, man.”
Jackson blinks. “Bee… yonce?”
I look up at him and catch the way his thick hair falls over his shoulder as he tilts his head to the side. For a brief, unwanted moment, I wonder what it smells like.
Ew. Ozzy, could you stop it? What is wrong with you?
“You have bee tattoos on your knees,” he observes, his brows furrowing. “Why?”
“They are the bees’ knees.” I expect him to groan or roll his eyes, but instead, something else happens—Jackson laughs. A real, deep belly laugh that rumbles through him, raspy but warm. Son of a bitch, I’m absolutely not prepared for how good it sounds.
Goddamn it… that’s it, I’m kicking my own ass.
“You’re kind of funny.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, and for a second, the ever-serious, broody cowboy looks soft. I immediately hate how it’s making me feel.
“I’m hysterical. You just barely have a sense of humor, so most of my hilarity is lost on you.”
“Wow,” he marvels while shaking his head. “Tell me, Tink, how is it that a catch like you is still swimming around out there?”
I wink. “Because I’m the big, bad shark that gobbles up all the wannabe fishermen.” I snap my teeth together for dramatic effect before pushing myself to my feet.
Before I can say anything else, two dogs come bounding up the driveway, their tails wagging furiously.
“Hey there,” I chuckle lightly. “And who do we have here?”
“That’s Bear,” Jackson says, pointing to the reddish-brown one. “And that’s Rocky. They’re my Australian shepherds.”
I grin as the boys continue with their kisses before running off down the driveway.“They’re sweet,” I reply while removing my zip-up jacket and tossing it on the porch. “It’s really hot and sticky out already this morning.”
Jackson clears his throat, suddenly looking anywhere but at me. “Yeah, there’s a storm coming late tonight. Me and the guys will be rounding up the animals most of the day.”
“Wait, is the storm going to be that bad?”
Jackson shrugs and leans against the railing. I can’t help but note how his muscular thighs fill out his Wrangler jeans so perfectly it should be illegal. God, I need to calm my ass down. Jackson and his thighs and his laugh need to stay far away from me.
Wait… is he looking at my ass? He catches me catching him and coughs and shifts again, looking… flustered. I don’t find it cute at all.
“We may lose power. They are calling for high winds, lightning, heavy–”
“What about Morris?” I ask while trying to hold the panic back. “His machines, he can’t be without–”
“We are in the country,” he chuckles. “We have generators. This ain’t our first rodeo.”
Letting out a breath, I nod as I begin walking down the dirt path.“Good to know.”
“You gonna tell me why you’re out here before dawn?” he calls out.
I turn to look at him as I walk backward. “Now, why would I go and do a thing like that? Then you might show an interest in me, and that would be a tragedy for us all.”
He chuckles and shakes his head.“Never, Tink, never.”
I give him a two-finger salute before sliding into Gretchen, turning her on, and driving down the road. I need to get out of here. Away from the creaking house, away from the memories; away from Jackson and his distractingly perfect thighs in those goddamn Wranglers.
I need to run.
And I need to do it somewhere far away from him.