Chapter Thirty-Six
I cancel my last lesson of the day, telling my client I’ve got a scheduling issue and we’ll pick it back up next week. It’s a lie, but it’s an easy one, and she doesn’t question it. I don’t even feel bad. I just feel … wired. Nervous. Something I don’t feel very often.
I go inside early and take my time in the shower, shampooing my hair twice because I know he likes the scent of jasmine. I shave my legs. I even use the good conditioner. I stand under the spray longer than I need to, letting the water hit my shoulders while my mind races.
He said seven.
I get out, wrap myself in a towel, and for a ridiculous moment, I just stand there in front of the mirror, staring at my own face.
I’m an idiot.
Charli knocks on my door not long after, already holding a curling iron. “You ready?”
“No.”
She gives me a look.
I sigh. “Fine.”
She comes in and gets to work, sectioning my hair, curling it in loose waves that fall over my shoulders. We don’t talk about Waylon. Not really. We talk about Ruby’s last lesson, about Matty’s nausea, about how Harleigh texted both of us, asking if we miss her.
When she’s done, she turns me toward the mirror. My hair looks soft and shiny.
“You look hot as shit,” Charli says.
I swallow. “Thanks.”
“Have fun tonight,” she says as she gathers her tools. “And do everything that I would do.”
“I don’t think that’s how it goes.”
I hear her laughter as she descends the stairs.
Seven o’clock comes.
And goes.
Five minutes later, I tell myself he’s running late. It’s a ranch. Things happen. Horses throw shoes. Cows get loose. Fences get breached.
At seven fifteen, I start checking my phone for messages.
At seven thirty, I feel stupid.
At seven forty-five, I grow angry.
At eight, I finally text him.
Me: Hey, you okay?
No response.
I try calling. It rings twice and goes to voicemail.
“Of course,” I mutter.
By eight thirty, worry starts to crawl in, pushing past the anger. Waylon isn’t careless with Ruby. He’s not careless with work. If he said he’d be here, something must have happened.
I text Caison.
Me: Is Waylon okay?
He replies almost immediately.
Case: Yeah. Why?
I stare at the screen, my heart sinking.
Me: We had plans. He didn’t show. Was just making sure he didn’t get trampled by a herd of cattle or something.
I add a laughing emoji to the end to save face.
There’s a pause.
Case: No. No stampede to report.
That’s it.
No explanation. No apology on his behalf. Just confirmation that I’ve been sitting here like an idiot for over an hour for no reason.
By nine, I’m not even mad any longer. Just over it.
I block his number.
It’s a petty, impulsive thing, but I don’t care. I don’t want to see his name light up my phone. I don’t want to hear excuses. I don’t want to give him the chance to hurt me again.
I change into my pajamas and crawl into bed, staring at the ceiling.
A soft knock sounds on my door.
“Shelby?” It’s Grandma’s voice.
“Yeah?”
She comes in with a plate covered in foil. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
She sets it on my nightstand anyway. “Humor me.”
She looks at me for a long moment, eyes kind and sharp, all at once. “You okay?”
I force a smile. “Yeah.”
It’s a lie, and she knows it.
She sits on the edge of my bed.
“I’m more embarrassed than anything. Waylon is Waylon. I, of all people, know he’s not reliable.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The man I’ve seen is nothing like the boy he used to be,” she says. “Maybe he had a good reason.”
“Maybe. But he could have called or texted or sent up a smoke signal. But he didn’t. Which tells me all I need to know.”
She pats my leg. “That’s fair.”
After she leaves, I sit here in the quiet, the weight of the evening pressing down on me.
I was stood up.
Stood up by Waylon fucking Ludlow.
Even just thinking it makes my jaw tighten so hard that my teeth ache. I should have known better. I had known better. That’s the part that hurts the most—not that he didn’t show, but that I’d let myself believe he would.
I’m not crying.
I’m not sad …
I’m fucking angry.
At him.
And even more at myself.
For thinking, even for one second, that he had changed.