Chapter Eleven
Jess did not disappoint with her outfit choice from Lily and Lace.
She sent over a pair of dark bootcut jeans that fit so damn perfectly it looks like they were painted on my ass.
She paired it with a soft pink tank top that plunges deep between my breasts and is lined with a delicate lace.
I’ll pair it with my favorite pair of cowboy boots that have the cream intricacies carved into the deep espresso leather.
My everything shower after cleaning with chemicals all day was the most satisfying part of my day. I even gave up a nap for it. Now I’m standing in the bathroom in my towel actually taking the time to dry all my damn hair to curl it before I even think about starting on my make-up.
My hair is long, down to my ass cheeks, and it takes a lot of fucking time to dry. On any other day it goes up into a bun still wet. So if I take the time to dry and curl it, it better be appreciated.
I peek at my phone while my head is upside down and still no text from Cal. I’ve texted him twice with no answer since earlier. He’s pushing it time wise if he’s going to shower and we’re going to make it to Bozeman.
On to my make-up, and still no answer. I call him, only getting his voicemail. We need to leave in twenty minutes. I thought I was running late, but I guess I’ve got a few more minutes.
Time to get dressed, and another phone call to Cal with no answer to either the calls or my texts.
I squeeze my ass into these jeans and when I do my final perusal in the full length mirror, I look fucking hot if I say so myself.
Another call and voicemail again.
Me: Hey. It’s almost time to leave, haven’t heard from you. Obviously. I guess I’ll just wait for you at the house. I don’t really know what else to do.
Me: I’ve been waiting twenty minutes, Cal. Please don’t tell me you’re really doing this to me again.
Me: Okay, it’s officially been forty-five minutes. There’s no way we’ll make it to Bozeman.
Me: Seriously? An hour and a half late and you can’t even text me to let me know. Nothing is different. Will it ever be?
I can’t sit around and wait for him anymore.
This is the shit he always pulls. He thinks he doesn’t need to answer me, or tell me he’ll be late.
He just shows up, tries to kiss me, sweeps me into his arms and pretends that it’s all just hunky dory.
No harm, no foul are the actual words that have come out of his mouth before.
I’ve eaten solidly every snack in our pantry and I’m starving. Fuck this. I’m not sitting around waiting for him another second.
Me: My idiot husband didn’t show up for our date. Want me to swing by with JJ’s favorite pizza and some ice-cream for when he goes to bed?
Dakota: Stop! I had such high hopes.
Me: > I’m not wasting this effort. Someone deserves to see it. Might as well be you and you might as well be able to get in a shower.
Dakota: Hot damn, girl. I’ll take you and the pizza. JJ will treat ya right.
Me: Perfect. Only boy I’ll ever need.
Grabbing my keys and wallet I head out to Ms. Patti’s for a pizza and fries. And ice-cream. I hook up my phone and choose my angry girl anthem, Son of A Bitch by Jessie Murph. Singing from the top of my lungs alone in the car driving the country roads really does something soothing for the soul.
I didn’t think about my appearance when I left, I just left in anger. Now I’m parked, staring at the entrance of Ms. Patti’s. This outfit is definitely going to gain some attention.
But I already told JJ I was bringing pizza. I can’t bail now and show up empty handed.
Pushing open the truck door I take a fortifying breath, readying myself for the gossip mill.
“Ooooweee Girlie. Who's the lucky man who gets to see you tonight?” Ms. Patti whistles from behind the counter.
“Oh just a sweet little four year old who was promised pizza, because he doesn’t feel good.” I wave her off like I’m not dressed up for a night out in Bozeman.
“Don’t tell me my little man is sick still?” The whole town has adopted Jaycob as their own. The beauty of a small town is that they all become your actual village.
“Sure is. So it’s pizza and french fries for him.”
“I’m on it. Anything for mama and you?” She starts on his pizza while we talk.
“Nah. I’m going to go grab some ice-cream.” I jut my thumb toward the freezers.
“Hey, Juliette,” she calls to me. I turn to face her. “Don’t let him get away with bailin’ on ya. Those cowboys take a mile when they’re given an inch. You deserve that night away.”
My mouth drops open. “How did you-”
“Forty years with my cowboy. You think we didn’t have our tough times?”
I nod in understanding before going off to find my chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream and cookies and cream for Dakota.
I add in a pint of chocolate just in case my little buddy is feeling up for it. He was perking up when they left the bar today, but he still wasn’t his usual self.
Once I get the pizza and fries from Ms. Patti, she refuses payment when it’s going to her sick boy, a stressed out mama, and a fellow ranch wife who missed out on date night, I'm on my way. Making a mental note to let Dakota know to comp her next time they’re in the bar.
Notably, Murray’s truck isn’t in her driveway when I get here. Those two fuckers are blowing us both off.
I can hear Jaycob yelling from the porch while I pull everything out of the back of my truck.
“Aunty Juwes!”
Kicking my door closed, I head in the house. “Hey, buddy! You up for some pizza?”
“Yeah! Mommy is wetting me watch Paw Patwol!” He doesn’t wait for me and runs back off into the house.
“Well he seems to be feeling better.”
“Ugh, yeah. Now he just has the energy of a hundred toddlers. I have the energy of a zombie.” She slow blinks as I pass by her and I’m not fully convinced her eyeballs are going to open again as she sways on her feet.
“Okay. New plan. You’re going to go to bed. I’m going to feed this gremlin and watch Paw Patrol until he passes out. I’ll put him to bed and lock up.”
“No. I can’t ask you to do that.” She shuffles behind me.
“You didn’t ask. I just decided that was going to happen.” I grip her shoulders and spin her around to face the stairs. “Up. Bed. Now.”
She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly before she takes her first step. “Okay.”
After my buddy and I enjoyed more than our fair share of pizza he passed out on my lap watching the rest of his Paw Patrol show. I never even got my ice-cream but I’ll take a happy snoring little buddy any day over the sick one we’ve had the last couple days.
My body tenses when I hear the front door click open. But a quick glance over my shoulder and I see it’s only Murray.
Looking at my phone I still see no messages from Cal.
“I see you finally decided to follow my advice.” I sneer at him.
“Just got back. Got a bad fire that wouldn’t quit.” He sheepishly answers kicking imaginary rocks with his feet.
“Whatever. He just fell asleep twenty minutes ago. So you can carry him upstairs. She went to bed when I got here and skipped dinner. Don’t wake her up.”
Sliding Jaycob’s little head onto the couch from my lap, I slip the throw blanket under him as a pillow.
Ignoring Murray, I slip past him to get my shoes on. He’s guilty by association. Doesn’t make my husband stop working, doesn’t force him to use the other ranch hands and instead they both choose to get their hands dirty.
The door knob clicks open when I turn it and Murray’s eyes haven’t left me.
“Jules.”
Spinning to face him he gets the first of my anger. “What?”
“Go easy on him.” He says with a weak smile for his friend.
I scoff. Leaving him standing in the living room. Rushing to my truck I let my anger fuel me on the drive home.
I let How Not To by Dan and Shay beat through my speakers.
The lyrics washing over me as I sing them with all my emotions pouring out of me.
Almost as if I can feel the anger leaving my body, the song sinks in reminding me of all the good times I’ve had with my husband.
This was supposed to be a break up song. What the fuck.
Ugh. No. Jamming the button to switch songs I get Consider Me Gone by Reba. Much better.
His stupid truck is parked in the driveway and I don’t know why the sight of it makes me so angry. I knew he’d be here.
I turn when I get to the front door, flipping off his stupid big ass truck covered in dirt. Fucking asshole.
Pushing the front door open, I walk in and he freezes mid-step only a few feet away from me.
I forgot what I was wearing until his mouth practically hits the floor as his eyes roam from head to toe, taking in the outfit he’s going to miss peeling off me tonight.
“Jules, I –”
“Save it, Cal. I don’t care what it was. You had to put me first for one night. That’s all I was asking for. One fucking night and you couldn’t even do it.”
He hangs his head in shame. Good. You should be ashamed.
“I couldn’t just leave the fire.” His usually loud and gruff voice is quiet and soft.
“You could’ve chosen to not go.” There’s no emotion left in me. I’m so tired of telling him how to fix things, how to put me first. “Goodnight, Cal.”
Passing him, I don’t make eye contact. If I look at him, I’ll end up breaking my boundaries again. I can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep doing this.
Slamming the door to our bedroom shut and locking it, I strip the sexy clothes off and climb into bed wearing one of his old tees.
Me: He blew me off tonight.
Jess: Noooo! Why?
Me: Murray said it was a fire. Cal said he couldn’t just not go to the fire. But he could easily have not gone. The volunteers do it all the time.
Jess: I know it sucks, but maybe hear him out?
Me: I can’t. I need to be put first. I can’t do this anymore. He’s proven that I’m not number one for him, meanwhile I left my bar in shambles to come get ready for a date with him.
Jess: I get it, babes. You’re totally welcome to come stay here if you need to.
Me: I might. I just want to go to bed now.
Jess: Text me in the morning. Or come get coffee. I love you.
Me: Love you too. >
The tears won’t stop flowing. And I feel like a heartless asshole asking him to not go to a fire. But tonight, of all nights, he had to go?
There’s a tentative knock on the door.
“Jules, please talk to me.”
Silence.
“Please? I love you. I want to fix this… it was just… unavoidable. I didn’t know it would go so late.”
How many times have I heard that excuse?
A heavy sigh. I listen to what sounds like his hand falling down the door until it thuds into his thigh.
Hubs: > I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know what else I can do.
The tears fall harder, soaking my pillow under my cheek. My heart feels like it might actually crack in two. I love him so much, but I need to love myself more. And letting myself get disappointed time and time again, I just can’t see that as self-love.