43. Shiloh
Shiloh
If flip the hastily written note in my hand, reading it over and over again.
Morning, had to head out to work and didn’t want to wake you.
I’ll call you later.
Stay with Sterling, please.
I love you.
He’s acting like it’s a normal day, not like he’s about to go up against a drug kingpin and a ton of guns, and … I can’t even finish the thought, but the tears come anyway.
I take a deep breath and roll myself out of bed. I find a fresh set of sweatpants and what looks like an old sheriff’s sweatshirt and pull it over my head.
The smell of coffee wafts into my nose as I come down the stairs to find Sterling Simmons sitting on the couch watching TV with the volume down, and I don’t miss the shotgun leaning against the cushion right next to him.
“Mornin’ coffee is in the pot,” he says.
“Thanks,” I rasp.
I pour myself a cup and come back to the couch. “When did he leave?” I ask him.
Sterling checks his watch. “Probably about two hours ago.”
My stomach drops. Anything could be happening now. They could still be waiting, or he’s fighting for his life, or …
I take a sip of the hot coffee, willing it to scald my insides and my brain of any thoughts other than. He will come home to me.
“If you need something to take the edge off, I brought a bottle of Irish cream. It’s in the fridge.”
“That’s exactly what I need,” I mumble.
Sterling nods and continues watching sports.
When I come back to the sofa, I sit and change my mind, too antsy, so I go to the massive wall of windows and look out at the mountains.
“So you and Ledger,” Sterling says.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “Yep.”
He huffs. “I never thought I’d see the day. That man was married to his job, and helping the ranch whenever they needed. Now he’s married to you.”
“He takes his work seriously,” I mumble.
“It’s not just his work he takes seriously anymore, is it?” Sterling asks.
I turn around to look at him. “What are you trying to say?”
“He loves you more than his work, Shiloh. What he’s done for you is more and beyond what many men would.
I’m not trying to warn you away or anything because it seems like you already did that yourself.
This conversation is more than overdue, but I guess what I’m trying to say is please take care of my best friend.
He’s always been the one taking care of us, making sure we’re happy and safe, and he’s not very good at letting us do that for him. ”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumble around the rim of my mug.
He smiles. “He’s loyal like that.”
“I love him, Sterling. I will give him everything I have. Okay?”
He stares at me for a moment before dipping his chin and returning his focus to the TV.
I keep glancing at my phone, hoping and waiting for a phone call. I wish he woke me up before he left. But all I can do is wait and hope.