Chapter 23 Jenny
JENNY
I’m forgetting about everything.
I don’t care if that means I have to forget myself in the process. As long as I clear my mind of every memory of Lucas Cross, it’ll be worth it.
I can’t afford to be distracted by someone I know will only wind up breaking my heart again.
It doesn’t matter how often his words echo around my skull, the overheard declaration of love morphing into imagined whispers against my skin, promises of more, of better.
None of it’s real. None of it was ever real.
Things between us won’t work, no matter how much I want them to. I have to believe that.
If I don’t, I’ll go insane.
I’m already halfway there.
Dad and Mary are thankfully giving me some time to sort myself out, even Wayne offering me space to hole up in my office for days on end.
I haven’t gone out to the barn for anything in almost a week, keeping the curtains in my office firmly shut to avoid catching so much as a glimpse of Lucas. Or, worse, the lack of him.
He’s still here, I’m sure of that. Someone would have told me if he left already.
I lie to myself and pretend not to care either way.
It’s eating me alive.
I blocked his number and deleted his contact that same night, not trusting myself to keep my distance if I had any way to contact him.
It’s hard enough knowing that I could walk down to the barn and fall apart at the sight of him.
There’s no reason to torture myself by reading through our texts and picking everything he said apart.
What’s done is done.
Lucas and I are done.
Maybe this part of my life is done, too.
I’ve been threatening to leave the ranch and start fresh since I graduated.
There’s nothing left for me here. Mary and Dad can handle the ranch, and I don’t need to be on site to do the books.
If this past week has proved anything, it’s that the ranch will survive without me micromanaging every detail.
It’s time to move on. From everything.
That thought hurts almost as much as the knowledge that I’ll never get Lucas back.
A knock on my office door breaks me out of my spiralling thoughts, and I look up to glare at the worn wood. It offers no response, which only makes me glare harder. I consider ignoring the knock, but it comes again, more insistent this time.
“Come in,” I say wearily, leaning back in my chair.
Dad steps in, not bothering to close the door behind him, and my stomach clenches in annoyance. His jaw is set stubbornly, and I can already tell that I’m not going to like what comes out of his mouth. If he says a single word about Lucas, I swear—
“Rodeo’s tonight. We’re leaving in half an hour.”
I glance over at the calendar pinned to my wall, finding a little note scrawled on today’s date about a rodeo event. I’d completely forgotten about it in light of… everything.
“Right. Have fun, then.”
I’m sure he’s here to try to drag me out of the house, but I have absolutely no intention of going anywhere.
My office, my bedroom, and the kitchen—those three rooms have become my world recently, and I don’t plan to exit that orbit until I can meet my own eyes in the mirror without feeling sick to my stomach.
“You’re coming with us,” he says, no room in his tone for argument.
I, of course, argue.
“I have work to catch up on.”
“It’ll be here when you get back,” he says.
“I’ve got deadlines to meet.” I don’t. I’m almost a month ahead of schedule for most of my paperwork. “Bring me back a funnel cake.”
I won’t eat it. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.
“Come get one yourself.” He arches a brow and crosses his arms over his chest in a move that’s probably supposed to be insistent. It would hold more weight if I hadn’t grown up seeing it, if I didn’t know that it’s his version of begging. “A few investors will be there. Need you to show your face.”
It’s a weak excuse, and we both know it. I’ve met all our investors that live nearby—hell, I’ve known most of them since I was a kid. Any other day, I’d call him out on it, but…
After everything that’s happened recently, it’s nice to know that someone wants me around.
Even if it’s just my dad. He’s trying, and it means a lot.
We’ve gotten better at communicating recently, but neither of us are great at the mushy side of things.
At the support. Even if it won’t do anything to make me feel better, I don’t want to take my heartbreak out on my dad.
If he’s willing to try for me, I should do the same.
I sigh and push away from my desk with a roll of my eyes. “Fine. Let me change. Half an hour?”
His lips twitch like he’s fighting hard to hold back a beaming smile, but he can’t hide the happiness in his eyes. “Half an hour. We’ll be downstairs.”
I feel a little lighter when he turns to leave, and for the first time in a week, a smile pulls at the edges of my lips.
As loath as I am to leave my safe little bubble, maybe this will snap me out of the funk I’ve been in all week.
I can prove to myself that the world still spins without Lucas Cross in my life, and then I can get to my day to day.
It’ll be a good reset.
And I can admit I’ve been a massive bitch recently. Spending time with Dad and Mary when my mind isn’t circling my own misfortune will be good for all of us.
With my spirits bolstered, I make quick work of changing and running a comb through my hair.
I don’t bother with anything fancy—a quick coat of mascara and a flannel tossed over a tank top will do, even if any of our investors actually are there.
Mary and Dad are dressed similarly, and it makes my nerves settle a bit further.
We’re just going out for a night at the rodeo. Some family bonding, even if I had some trouble accepting Mary as family at first.
“Ready to go, kiddo?” Dad asks, the keys to his truck already in hand.
“Sure am.” I pat my pockets for my phone and my wallet, just a quick double check before we actually leave.
Mary falls into step beside me as I make my way out the door and down the porch steps, nudging my arm gently with her elbow as we walk toward the truck.
Soft blue eyes sparkled up at me, her freckles coming in stronger these days and making the smile she sends my way even sweeter than it used to be.
“Glad you decided to join us,” she says softly, testing the waters.
I’ve gotten over my anger at her since our last conversation—she’s never been the type to hold her tongue, and I appreciate her not holding back on me. I don’t necessarily agree with what she had to say, but it’s good to know she’ll tell me what she thinks even if I don’t want to hear it.
Those are the kind of people I want to have in my life.
I snort and roll my eyes, but nudge her back with a good-natured grin. “Didn’t think I had much of a choice. Dad looked like he was going to cry if I said no.”
Mary laughs at my obvious exaggeration, glancing back toward Dad with so much love in her eyes it hurts to look at.
“He wouldn’t shut up about wanting you to come, but kept saying he didn’t want to bother you while you were working,” she says, her voice soft enough not to carry back to him. “Practically had to drag him to your office.”
I chuckle at the thought of it, and at the lame excuse Dad gave her. It likely didn’t work any better on her than it would have on me.
The two of them fall into easy conversation as we all climb into the truck and head toward the event center the rodeo is being held at.
I’m grateful for the break, knowing that I don’t have the energy to keep up idle chatter all night.
They do the heavy lifting, allowing me to chime in occasionally with my own comments or answer a question here and there.
It’s easier than I expected.
The air doesn’t feel as oppressive around them as it has in the trio of rooms I’ve been living in, and my head actually feels clear for the first time in a week.
I feel almost normal as Dad parks and we wander toward the gates.
He buys our tickets, wraps an arm around Mary’s waist, lets her guide our lazy pace through the crowd.
It doesn’t feel like my world ended a week ago.
It feels like the same thing I’ve been doing my whole life.
I’m not sure if that thought is depressing or comforting.
“I’ll go get us seats,” I say, nodding toward the stands. “Get me a funnel cake?”
I still don’t have much of an appetite, but it’ll make Dad feel better if I pretend. I’m sure I can manage to choke down a few bites before my stomach starts revolting.
He smiles widely at me, his beard bristling as he nods. “You got it, kiddo. Powdered sugar?”
I scoff in mock offense. “Duh. Can’t believe you’d even ask.”
He lets me go with an easy laugh, and I turn away from them to head toward the stands.
The world immediately feels colder without them in front of me, lonelier, like I’m not surrounded by a throng of people.
I debate turning right back around and rejoining them, but I don’t want to give them any more reason to worry, and it’s not like they’ll be gone for long.
The lines won’t be crazy yet since the actual rodeo hasn’t started.
They’ve only just started the beginner’s riding showcases when I find us good seats in one of the front rows.
After this will be barrel racing, then a few roping demos, and then the bull riding that always has the stands packed to the brim.
This event is mostly kids or newer equestrians, a lot of supportive parents clapping loudly for their kids as they lead a well-mannered horse over tiny jumps and through a display of basic skills. Most of them will clear out before the bull riding even starts.
I lose myself in watching for a while, mentally taking note of a few particularly handsome horses that Dad might want to look into securing breeding contracts with. I don’t snap out of my reverie until the last rider enters the arena.
The first thing I notice is that he’s older than the others by far—clearly an adult in a class full of children and young teens. The second thing I notice is that the Arabian he’s on looks strikingly familiar.
The third thing I notice is the announcement ringing out over the stands.
“Lucas Cross, presenting on Lyra for Black Spruce Ranch.”