Chapter 29 Heston
HESTON
I lean forward to brace both hands on the hood of my truck and let my head hang low. It seems to help my breathing a bit, but the persistent racing of my pulse hasn’t slowed down. I’ve been searching and holding back a full-blown freak out for the last thirty minutes.
After scouring this whole side of the ranch, even checking along the riverbank, I still haven’t seen so much as a fresh paw print. Once I figure out how to calm down for longer than ten seconds, I’ll call Gage and see if he’s had more luck than I have.
I’m resigned to continue beating myself up out here alone when I hear the feed truck cross the cattle guard on the other side of the field.
It rumbles toward me, tires crunching through the dry grass, until the headlights and engine cut off.
I haven’t bothered to lift my head because standing like this is the only thing that has allowed me a moment of anything but sheer panic.
“Heston?”
I open my eyes at the sound of her voice. A door slams closed, and a few seconds later, she’s right next to me and smoothing a hand over my back.
“Hey,” she says quietly. “We found her.”
My head snaps up, and I scan her eyes for a hint of anything but truth. It’s too dark to get a good read on her expression, but she slowly takes one of my hands from the hood of the truck and holds it in hers.
“The well house on the other side of the north pasture collapsed. Well, halfway. Just the opening. She couldn’t get out,” Hattie explains. “But Lucky is completely fine, Hes. I think she wandered over there for a drink, and the old thing crumbled.”
I don’t know why I didn’t think to look there. My head’s been spinning so hard that I couldn’t even think straight enough to find my own dog, who is like a damn family member to me.
I’m relieved that she’s safe. But she could have easily been hurt, or worse. And it’s all my fault. With that thought, the self-loathing has ramped up to an all-time high. I’m doing my best to stay level-headed, but it feels entirely out of my control.
Hattie notices and steps closer to me, pulling my other hand from the hood. I’m shaking a little bit, so she lifts my arms to drape them around her before squeezing around my waist.
“I looked over every inch of her.” Her voice is calm and soothing. “Not even a scratch. I thought she might want some water or a treat, so I had Tripp and Mesa take her to the bunkhouse.” When I still don’t reply, she tilts her head back to look at me. “It’s okay. She’s okay.”
Nothing feels okay.
It all feels like a disaster, every bit of it by my own hands.
Footsteps sound from the side of my truck, and Granger comes into view. “I’m glad you called your ole lady, bro. It only took a few wrong guesses before she knew exactly where to look.”
I glance down at Hattie, who’s slowly rubbing a circle on my lower back and trying to bring me out of it with the reassuring look on her face.
It’s such a beautiful face. So beautiful, and even more so deeply caring, that I can’t believe she’s ever been anything but mine for a day since I first saw her.
“Let’s go back, okay?” I nod, and she turns to Granger. “I’ll drive his truck. We’ll meet you up at the bunkhouse.”
I make my way to the passenger seat rather than argue with her about driving back.
It should wound my pride that she’s having to take care of me in any way right now, but I’m not sure I have much pride left in the first place.
I rub my temples and keep my head down until we finally park in the empty spot next to Tripp’s Bronco.
“Sorry,” I mumble when she kills the engine. “I kind of—I don’t know.”
“Got scared?” I nod, and she leans toward me with her arms on the center console. “I was scared, too. It’s okay.”
My eyes screw shut. “Stop saying that.”
“She’s fine, and she’s right inside, I promise. It is okay.”
I’m just now feeling like my nervous system is regulating itself again, but I don’t want to trigger it back into a full crashout. I take a few slow breaths before speaking again.
“I’m glad you found her. But it’s my fault. I didn’t realize she wasn’t with me, and I left her out there because I’ve been so distracted and just—off.”
“It’s not your fault,” she whispers.
I rub my chest for the thousandth time tonight and lean back against the headrest. “I still blame myself. It’s not just this,” I admit. “Everything.”
I stare up at the roof of the cab when she turns away from me and gets out of the truck.
If I were her, I wouldn’t want to sit here and listen to me bitch and moan, either.
I’d stop if I could, but something about losing Lucky tonight pushed me over the edge.
I’m in the middle of a spiral with no way out for the time being.
I flinch when the passenger door rips open. Hattie takes my hand, and I let her pull me out of the truck. My brows are pinched together while she leads me inside, and before I know it, we’re in my room, and she’s softly closing the door behind us.
I glance over at Lucky. She’s snoring and lying in the center of my bed surrounded by a ring of fluffy pillows.
Hattie doesn’t push me to keep talking about my obvious mood, and she doesn’t have a sour look on her face, either. Instead, she pulls two t-shirts out of my closet and a pair of briefs from a drawer in my dresser.
“Go take a shower,” she suggests, placing the briefs and one of the shirts in my hands.
“Why did you get two shirts?” I ask.
“Because I’m not going to sleep in this,” she explains, gesturing to her current outfit.
Blood roars in my ears. “You’re staying here?”
“Oh.” She grips the t-shirt in her hands and looks around while taking a step back.
It’s like she forgot she hasn’t stayed here since we were together.
“I mean . . . If that’s okay. I don’t want to leave.
Not after—well, I thought you were hurt when you called me.
Now you’re so clearly upset, and when we were looking for Lucky before I got to you, I thought—”
“Stay,” I say, cutting off her string of reasons.
After she nods and gives me a nervous smile, I take the fastest shower of my life. Once I put my clean clothes on, I walk back into the room. It’s dim with only my lamp light on. Hattie is fast asleep with an arm wrapped around Lucky’s body.
I turn the knob on the door before closing it so it doesn’t make a loud click. Before lying down, I flick off the lamp and stand there next to the bed. Staring.
The after effects of tonight’s emotional roller coaster are still lingering.
Lots of things have gone well for me in my life, but the things that went wrong feel bigger.
It sucks having to admit it to myself, but on the days when all of those things feel like they’re stacked on top of each other, I can’t handle it. It’s too much.
Hattie’s hair softly frames her face, and her shoulders lift with every relaxed breath. It’s like a torture tactic seeing her wearing my shirt and sleeping in my bed.
I push both hands through my damp hair with enough frustration to make it hurt. Tonight is just more proof of something I already knew—I don’t just want her back. I fucking need her.
The comforter rustles as I let out a sigh and finally slide under it. I try not to make too much noise as I turn on my side, facing Hattie and the spoiled cow dog, who’s separating us.
I smooth over Lucky’s head, then gently rub down her neck. Hattie’s hand is resting on the center of the dog’s back. I slide my hand further down until the side of my pinky finger brushes against her thumb.
I’m gonna sleep freaking good tonight.
With that thought, my eyes flutter closed. I’ve almost drifted off when I feel Hattie’s thumb lightly brush over the top of my pinky finger.
“Are you alright?” she whispers through the dark.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“Can you move her without waking her up?”
Probably not. “I can try. Do—you want me to move her?”
“It’s okay. I don’t want to make her wake up,” she whispers. It’s silent for a moment before she changes her mind. “Actually, yeah. I want you to.”
I slide my arm under Lucky’s body without hesitating. She lifts her head like I thought she would, but as soon as I walk to the other side of the room and gently lay her down in her dog bed, her eyes close again.
Hattie is swiping her hand across the bed sheets when I return. “It’s a good thing she doesn’t shed very much, but your sheets might smell like dog until you wash them.”
I chuckle and drop back to my spot with an exhausted sigh. “I’m too tired to care. And she climbs up here all the time anyway. I’m used to it.”
Instead of turning to my side and facing her again, I stare at the ceiling for a moment. It’s a habit, more than anything. I’ve spent countless nights doing exactly this and wishing she were here.
I shake my head, scoot to the middle of the bed, and lift my right arm. Hattie must have been thinking the same thing as I am because she slips under it and tucks into my side.
One hand rests lightly on her waist while I relax the other behind my head. Hattie’s whole arm is draped over my body, just below my chest. I close my eyes on a long, intensely relieved exhale.
Hattie yawns against my shirt, and I smile at the tiny little squeak she makes before snuggling her head back into a comfortable position.
“Does it feel like your emotional battery finally ran out?” she asks quietly.
“Never thought to put it that way, but yeah, that’s exactly how I feel.” I blow out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”
I have a hunch that it’ll recharge a bit tonight. At the very least, I don’t have to worry about where she’s at or what she’s doing while I try to fall asleep. She’s in my bed.
The thought crosses my mind that I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do this again. To feel this again. Taking full advantage, I lower my chin to the top of her head.
“The same thing happened to me on Wednesday, and it wasn’t pretty,” she reveals. “Should I apologize to you for that?”