Prologue #2
I hear the sound of the water running in the bunkhouse bathroom, and I ease around the corner, half afraid to interrupt his privacy.
But he’s standing just inside the open door, looking himself over in the mirror.
He’s a terrible sight in his current state.
He has a swollen left eye and a giant cut over the other that looks like it needs stitches.
His back is bruised, and the largest of them reaches around to the front of his chest. I wince as I get closer and see the deep purple color.
His lip is even more swollen than I initially thought, and my heart hurts when I pause to look at his face.
“What are you doing?” he snaps when his eyes find mine in the mirror.
“There are some first aid supplies in the cabinet in here. I was gonna get them for you.” I tear my eyes away from his to sneak around the corner, opening the small cabinet and rooting through the spread of gauze, tape, and alcohol wipes.
Cattle wrangling is a tough business, and even if the guys who sleep out here show off their injuries like trophies, opting to slam down another shot of whiskey than go to the doctor, my mom always keeps this cabinet full.
“I told you I’m fine. I just need to take a shower.”
“Let me at least clean up that eye. You don’t want to get an infection.”
“It’s already been long enough.”
“Bishop, please… I know you’re hurting, but I can’t see all this and not do something.” I plead with him, and his shoulders fall the slightest bit. He relents—silently and still scowling like I’m ruining his life, but I’ll take whatever small victories I can get today.
“Turn around and look at me.” I dab the alcohol onto the gauze and swipe gently at the wound. He winces, growling and grumbling under his breath at the burn. “Did the cougar do this?”
“No. I locked myself up in the house to get away from it.”
“Did you fall?”
“Does it matter what happened?”
“I just… It looks so painful. And you’re so…”
“So what?” he asks when I stop speaking.
“So strong.”
He grunts at the assessment as I dab another piece of gauze and work to free the dried blood from under his lip.
“Don’t tell Levi about this. Don’t tell anyone. I mean it, Aspen.”
“Some of these cuts are deep. And your ribs…” My eyes move down over his chest to the spot where the purple blooms bright. “You should see a doctor. They might be broken.”
“A doctor isn’t gonna do anything for any of this. I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”
“How long were you out in the homestead?”
“A day or two,” he mutters under his breath.
“A day or two?” I echo in shock. “What did you eat? Drink?”
“I drank some water out of the tap.” He nods to the sink. “I’m good. I told you, I keep telling you, I’m fine. I just want to be left alone.”
“Let me get you some food and something to drink at least.” I try to meet his eyes again, but he avoids mine, staring over my shoulder.
“I don’t need any fucking handouts, Aspen. I can take care of myself.”
“Now who’s being stubborn?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.
“Fine. Do what you have to. I need a shower. You gonna try to help me with that too, or you think I can get some privacy?”
I blush at the thought of a naked Bishop.
“You can have your privacy. I’ll go to the house and get some things. I’ll be back to check on you.”
“Fine.” He turns his back, and I clean up the mess I’ve made on the counter, hurrying to leave the bathroom and give him time alone.
I’ve made quick work of gathering some water and food from the pantry.
Things I think will keep without a fridge and things I think he might like, like the three brownies and a slice of pie I’ve pulled from the pie safe and tucked into wax paper.
I grab two bags of ice out of the freezer, too, hoping they might give him some relief, right along with the small bottle of painkillers I snatch from the bathroom.
I’m in the process of tucking it all into a bag when I hear my name.
“Aspen,” my father calls from the doorway. “What are you doing? I thought you were back from the homestead. Jack said you brought Sassy back.”
My father allowed me the freedom to roam around the thousands of acres on the ranch as long as I told someone where I was going and didn’t stay out too late, and crucially, as long as I wasn’t disappearing out there with boys.
Macy and her boyfriend were just caught in the back of his truck two weeks ago, and it’d put my parents on high alert.
If he finds out I was at the homestead alone with Bishop, I’ll be put through a full interrogation.
“I’m back.”
“Then what are you packing for?”
“I just thought I’d have it ready for next time.” I turn around and push the bag behind me in the process, hoping he can’t see the contents.
“With ice inside?”
“I… It’s, um, for an experiment thing I’m working on for science class.”
“For science class?”
“Yes. We’re doing a chapter on weather and creating microclimates.”
“In your backpack?”
“Yes?” I can hear the question in my own tone, and his brow climbs higher.
He lets out a sigh after a moment of silence. “You know you’re a bad liar, right?”
My cheeks flush with the blunt accusation, and with the racing thoughts I’m having as I try to come up with a more plausible cover-up.
“Just tell me the truth. Whatever it is. I won’t be mad.”
“I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Some promises were made to be broken, Aspen.” My dad’s slight irritation with my white lies turns into genuine concern.
“It’s… it’s Bishop. I found him at the homestead, and he’s hurt badly. His face is all torn up. His ribs are broken too, I think. He said there was a cougar, but said he managed to lock it out. He won’t say what really happened.”
“That son of a bitch.” My father turns on his heel, slamming his open palm on the doorframe.
“Dad! He didn’t do anything. He’s just hurt.”
My father stops midway down the hall and looks at me, his face falling and his brows knitting together.
“Not Bishop, kiddo. His father.”
“His father?” I ask, confused for a whole moment before I stitch the pieces together. “His father?” I repeat the question in anger.
“He’s not a good man. Where’s Bishop now?” My father starts for the door again.
“Dad, you can’t! If you go out there, he’ll know I told you, and he’ll never trust me again.
I barely got him to come back with me, and I—” I stop abruptly when I realize there’s nowhere to go from there that doesn’t make me sound overly invested.
And I don’t want to discuss crushes with my father.
Especially not when it’s Levi’s best friend.
“I won’t let him know you sent me. I’ll pretend that I stumbled on him. Where is he?”
“The bunkhouse. Taking a shower.” If anyone can help Bishop, keep him safe from his father, it’s mine.
“Good. Thank you. Bring that stuff out with you, just like you planned, in case we need it. We’ll both act surprised.”
I give my father a head start so it doesn’t look like I might have run into him on my way out, and I walk slowly to the bunkhouse, hoping they’ve hashed things out before I get there.
Sure enough, my father is leaving just as I get there, giving me a subtle nod before he disappears back down the path to the house.
I practically tiptoe my way inside, half afraid to face Bishop now and worried he’s going to be angry with me.
When I come around, he’s sitting on one of the beds.
He swipes at his cheek, but not before I see the evidence of a single tear.
I know he’ll hate me for having seen any sign of weakness in him.
My brothers are no different, and I’m used to pretending not to notice.
“I brought some food and meds for the pain. Some ointment for those cuts and some butterfly strips. If you won’t go see a doctor—my mom’s put them on Levi before when he’s had a bad cut.” I set my bag on the bed next to him and start to unzip it as I talk, pulling things out as I go.
“Your dad found me.” His tone is flat, but I can hear the accusation in it all the same.
“Oh shit,” I swear, wincing and looking up to see his reaction.
“He’s making me see a doctor. But he said I can stay here for tonight.” He doesn’t meet my eyes when he speaks.
“Good. You should see a doctor.” I hold out one of the brownies that’s topped with mint buttercream. He shoots me a skeptical look, one so evident even the swelling doesn’t camouflage it. “They’re really good. My mom made them for my birthday. I figured you’d be hungry.”
He takes it from me and gingerly takes a bite as he tries to avoid the part of his lip that’s swollen.
He wordlessly takes another and then another before I hand him a can of Coke, which he downs quickly.
I imagine it’s been a minute since he’s had proper food if he’s been holed up in the homestead all this time.
“I can bring you a plate of dinner out later if you want.”
“You’ve done enough.” He shakes his head.
“Okay. Well. I’ll just leave the rest of this here then.” Clearly, I’m not wanted. I pile the supplies on the corner of the bed and zip my bag, throwing it over my shoulder and making my way toward the door. “I hope you feel better.”
When I reach the threshold of the door, I hear him call my name. “Aspen?”
“Yeah?” I pause, too nervous he’s about to tell me something that’ll hurt my feelings and make me cry to look back at him.
“Thanks.”
It’s a quiet word, nothing more. Anyone else would probably tell me it’s meaningless. But it’s more than he’s ever given me, and my heart dares to hope. I bite my lower lip and give a quick nod without looking back at him before I hurry back to the house.