8. Trace
TRACE
I chose you.
Those words hit me right in the solar plexus. My entire life, I’ve never been the choice of anyone. It’s been handed to me because I’m the eldest Miller boy. Now I’m the only Miller boy. I made a choice for myself, and it ended up biting me in the ass.
The funeral goes by as if it’s happening to someone else. Another family, some other time and place. There is no grieving, it’s not allowed, and I’m ready to leave as soon as we can.
* * *
“My ears popped,” Katie laughs as we reach the peak, before we begin the descent into Azure Ridge. “I’m never out this way, since we live on the other side of the county.”
“Should’ve given you a piece of gum,” I gesture to the console, before smiling and showing her the piece I have in my mouth. “Didn’t even think about it.”
“It’s okay, it’s probably second nature to you. Popping a piece of that before you start the journey. How far away are we now?”
“‘Bout ten miles. We’re about to pull off the highway, and it’s gonna get a bit rough,” I warn her.
“Guess my car won’t make it, huh?” she questions, as I signal to turn on the gravel road to the ranch.
“No, which is why you have a new SUV waiting for you. I saw it come in the other day.”
She twirls a piece of her dark hair around her finger. Those nails that had been painted a fuck-me red the first time I saw her are now some sort of pale pink. A juxtaposition of how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time.
“Trust me, I’m not worried about status.”
“Are you sure? That’s what everyone else is worried about.”
She sighs. “It’s the one thing I can control, what I’m worried about. I can’t think about what others think of me, what they think of us, or what they expect of us. That’s overwhelming, and right now this situation is overwhelming enough without bringing other feelings into it.”
To a point, she’s right. The only thing we can control is what we’re worried about, but I also know what’s going to happen as soon as we get to the house. Our lives aren’t going to be our own, and we’ll be lucky to get out of this liking each other, much less being able to stand one another.
“The ranch is right over this ridge.” I put the truck into four-wheel-drive since we’ve had a lot of rain, and hold on as the extra power kicks in.
“Holy shit,” she gasps.
As we drive under The Miller Ranch sign with our ‘M’ in a circle—the brand we use on our cattle—I try to imagine what she’s seeing, but I can’t. To me, it all looks like a ball and chain. There’s no beauty in the land or the buildings, there’s possession. And without us, possession of this place isn’t possible.
“Tell me what you see,” I whisper, needing to know we’re doing this for a reason.
“You know what it looks like,” she tsks.
“No, I don’t. Not through the eyes of someone who isn’t jaded by it. Teach me how to see it in another way.”
She reaches over, putting her hand on my elbow. It’s one of those things a couple who’s been together for years would do. A touch of comfort in the midst of something hard. Her voice is full of awe when she begins to speak.
“It’s green and full of life,” she whispers. “The house is beautiful, huge and appears to be the centerpiece of the property. It wears time well. Almost like it was raised here before all the trees were planted, and they grew around it. Sheltering it from the rain and snow. The barn, bunkhouse, and cattle pen are quiet right now, but I can imagine when they’re bustling. Is that a new barn going up on the other side of the house?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Your dowry paid for it.”
“Doesn’t that sound so antiquated? Who knew in this day and age that we’d be talking like this?”
“Not us,” I scoff. “Not in a fucking million years.”
“Where will we stay?” she asks quietly, fear creeping into her voice.
“They’re building us a foreman’s house. The last one burnt a few years ago during a forest fire. It’s almost done, but until then we’ll stay at the big house. I have a suite, so we’ll have privacy, but we’ll be expected to eat with the family.”
“Got it,” she nods.
As if on impulse, she turns in the seat to face me. “What if I don’t fit in here, Trace? What if your family doesn’t like me? What if you never grow to like me? You’re the only person I know here, and you don’t like me on principle. How am I supposed to survive this?”
I hear her fear, feel it deep within my chest, because I’m feeling the same. “You’ll survive it with me by your side. No matter what happens with us behind closed doors, in public we will present a united front.”
“What if I need a friend? Saying we’ll present a united front doesn’t exactly say much about how we’ll behave behind closed doors. If I don’t have a friend, then what am I supposed to do? I’ll be allowed to talk to Marissa, right?”
“You’ll have a phone, Katie. You can text her. I can’t promise I’ll be friends with you. Losing Ward was hard enough. I’ll protect you, but I don’t know that I can care about you.” It’s a truth I’m beginning to realize about myself. Losing Ward has devastated me. Together, we were able to hold onto a shred of hope when it came to what we knew was expected of us with our parents. Without him, I’m lost, and I don’t see the woman sitting next to me being the person who can bring me out of this dark hole I’m in.
She nods, but doesn’t say anything else before she turns back around, facing the windshield. Her tongue comes out to run along her bottom lip before she pulls it in between her teeth. “Got it.”
As we near the house hands start to stream out. I’m sure my dad is watching from his office in the house. He and mom left the funeral before anyone else. The pressure I feel is intense. This either works or The Miller Ranch is done, and I refuse to let that happen on my watch. Not after all this land has taken from me.
“Game face on, sugar. They’re waitin’ on us.”