Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
MONROE
I feel dazed. Excited. Amped up in a way I haven’t felt in far too long.
Shaw kissed me.
It wasn’t anything spectacular or wildly romantic, but it was my first, and it was perfect.
The kiss was mine.
I think that out of everything I’m feeling, having that sweet moment between us and making it ours is one of the best moments of my life.
Which is sad because I’ve won titles, money, and scholarships.
I have so much to be grateful for, but it’s this unexpected kiss that stands out as the most memorable for me.
After rushing through my shower and staring at the bandaged cut on my cheek for too long, I hesitantly open the bathroom door and immediately smell coffee and bacon.
My stomach gurgles at the aromas because, even knowing I was unreasonable last night, I haven’t had a full meal since the early breakfast before our flight yesterday.
I already hear Mari the cow crying outside, and my first instinct is to go to her, but I have to start putting myself first and learn to do what I like and want instead of what’s expected. Starting with breakfast.
Padding down the stairs on silent feet, I hear Shaw and Rita talking in the kitchen, and as I walk closer, I gain a clearer picture of who Shaw is in his home. His decor leans rustic, in a Joanna Gaines fashion, but more toward dark-wash colors than light ones.
The gun cabinet near what I assume is his office is slightly terrifying, encasing five large guns. I don’t know anything about the weapons, so I couldn’t begin to guess what they are.
Substantial, bulky furniture prevails throughout the house, and even though it might not be my usual style, it sure looks comfortable. Like the plush cushions could swallow me up while I get lost in a good book.
It’s easy to slip into the kitchen unnoticed, as Shaw sits at the breakfast bar sipping from his cup, and Rita is turned around at the stove, flipping what looks like pancakes.
Settling at the round teak table, I listen while they talk about the day’s chores and am surprised to see it’s not even eight a.m. yet. I didn’t take notice of what time I woke up this morning.
“Do you think it’s the mother?”
My head pops up at Rita’s question, and I pay closer attention.
“I do.” Shaw’s deep voice sounds troubled.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize they’re talking about me and my reason for being here. And the direction their conversation is going makes me uncomfortable. Though it might be the only way I’ll find out what’s going on.
All I’ve been told so far is that someone invaded my space, and I needed to disappear for a while. I was never informed of the kind of danger I was in or could be in, and when I pushed for more, my mother and Claire always sent me off to the gym, practice, or an appointment.
“But do you really believe a mother could threat– Oh!” Rita stops mid-sentence when she turns to face Shaw and sees me. “Good morning, Monroe.” She plasters on a false smile, and I wish I could say I wasn’t used to everyone doing that.
“Good morning,” I reply, not returning her smile.
I wish I could explain to people why I’m like this, but they never understand. Half the world believes even a fake smile can solve problems. In my experience, it merely creates more.
“Hungry?” She tries again as Shaw finally spins in his seat.
I nod because my voice catches when our gazes meet. It's filled with heat and need. I know precisely what he’s thinking and can feel the slight blush slowly growing up my neck.
“Morning, Monroe.” I bite my lip, holding in a sigh. I want to go to him and explore another kiss with the confidence of this morning, but I don’t. If he wants something from me, he’ll have to make his intentions known because I have no idea how to express my own. “Coffee?” he offers.
“No, thank you.” I don’t tell him I love coffee, but I'm not allowed to have it. The pageants are fine with it; my mother’s not. She’s beaten it into my head that its addictive properties are bad for me.
Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t, but shaking the discipline instilled in me from an age I don’t even remember is a difficult habit to break.
Shaw’s eyes narrow at my answer, and worry lines crease Rita’s forehead, and I know their responses have nothing to do with the coffee and everything to do with my refusal.
Not wanting to be rude, I try to explain.
“I was trained from a very young age about what I can and cannot consume. I have an image, a brand to represent, and the expectation is that this isn’t vacation; therefore, I must treat it like any ordinary day.
” Instantly, it’s apparent they don’t like my answer.
“When’s the last time you did something for yourself? Something that was just because you wanted to and were not dictated to.”
I think hard about Rita’s pressing question, and the answer I come up with is sad.
“Yesterday. Sitting with Mari.”
“Sitting with my broken cow is the only thing you’ve ever done for yourself?” Shaw’s incredulity isn’t surprising. His anger is, though. “You’re twenty fucking years old, Monroe. How long are you going to let someone else dictate your life?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before storming off to his office, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Ignore him. He’s passionate about freedom.” Rita fills a plate with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon before bringing it over to me. “You don’t leave until you’ve eaten something more off this plate than you did your dinner last night.”
I stare down at the steaming platter of food, knowing I should eat it.
All of it if I want. I’ve already decided I’m done with my life in California, so doing this shouldn’t be a concern.
Scooping up a forkful of eggs, I stare at the bacon and know that even though I crave the salty taste that comes with it, my mind simply won’t allow me to.
A lifetime of conditioning has been ingrained in me and letting it go will not be so easy.
Pushing the plate away, I force myself to stand, grab a bottle of water from the shelf by the counter, and head outside. Mari’s soulful calls beg for someone to pay attention to her.
“Hey, sweet girl.” As soon as I speak, she begins to amble over to me. I don’t know if I’m allowed to enter her pen, so I remain on my side of the fence. As she sways into my touch, I wish I could get closer. I hardly know anything about cows, but I know this beautiful girl is unique.