Chapter 11
eleven
Sloane
When I agreed to go to the barn party, I didn’t expect the outcome that came out of it. I still feel a little weird that Gage and I slept together in his aunt’s house, but we left soon after and ended the night back at the house, tangled up in something that already felt like a mistake.
This morning, however, feels similar to the last time this happened; the only real difference is that I made it upstairs. He didn’t stay, he didn’t wait to see me the next morning, and just like that, we’re back to square one.
It’s frustrating, and at this point, I hate to say it, but I’m feeling used. For him to act as he did, seeing me dance with someone else at the party made me think that behind that broody exterior was a guy who actually had feelings.
I guess I was wrong.
Or maybe I just wanted to believe there was more to him than there actually is.
As soon as I get dressed, I head out for a walk to clear my head before I spiral. Gage is out of sight, which right now is a good thing. I think being away from him will allow me to figure out what to do next.
Neither one of us anticipated this thing happening between us because, for all we knew, we didn’t even like each other.
Well, I didn’t have a reason not to like him when we first met, but he made it easy not to with the way he treated me.
Now, things are different.
I still can’t stand him, but not for the same reasons I had before. Now, I can’t stand him for how confusing he has made things. He keeps taking two steps forward and ten steps back.
It’s like the moment he drops his walls, he realizes what he’s done and quickly builds them up before I can get through them. I just wish I knew why.
As I walk along the property line of the newly placed fence, the sun slowly rises beyond the horizon. I think this is what I will miss the most when I go back to Austin: the quiet stillness of the sunrise out here.
Back home, I know it’s morning when horns are honking down below my apartment building downtown.
I turn to walk along the line, then stop short when I see it. I step closer and sure enough, the newly placed wiring around the posts Gage and I laid out earlier this week is cut completely down the middle.
But how?
We haven’t had any storms since that last one, and no one has been around the property aside from the ranch hands, Gage, and me.
Sure, Gage’s aunt showed up the other day, but from what I know, she didn’t come out this far on the property. And I highly doubt she’d do anything to the fence.
I take a closer look and gently tug the pieces of wire closer, careful not to cut my fingers on it as it scrapes against my skin. It’s a clear break, which can only mean one thing: someone intentionally cut it clean through.
The question is, why?
I need to tell Gage about this immediately. If he or the ranch hands send the cattle out on the pasture, they will get out within minutes. The only reason they haven’t yet is that they’re in the barn getting assessed for their health and milk production.
It’s smart, and honestly if they weren’t already doing it, I would have suggested it myself.
I’ve been on a few assignments to ranches in the past while getting my degree in environmental science, and Hollis Ranch is certainly the most organized and clean ranch I’ve ever seen at this scale.
I know Gage is all about just doing the work and worrying less about the paperwork, but I think that may be why he can stand by all the products they produce without hesitation.
He leans on his strengths, and I can appreciate that, but I also lean on mine, and if I weren’t so observant, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed this cut.
I walk up the hill quickly and peek into the large barn where the cattle are. Gage and Hank are huddled over a clipboard, talking and scanning the cows. I walk over to them nervously.
How will Gage react when I tell him? We’ve been on shaky ground since the very beginning, but after yesterday, I’m starting to see things shift. I know he doesn’t fully trust me yet, but surely he can’t mistrust me enough to ignore this.
Hank looks up. “Well, good morning, Miss Carter,” he says, tipping his hat to me. I smile softly at him as Gage glances up carefully, then away just as fast.
He looks back down at the clipboard like it’s safer there. “Check Maple, June, and Winter, and see if their production is up to date. They were looking a little low last week. We’ve got to make sure they’re doing alright,” Gage tells Hank, who nods as he’s handed the clipboard.
Hank looks back at me. “Ranching doesn’t stop when this guy’s around. I’ll be seeing you,” he says, chuckling as he points to Gage with his thumb. He walks away, and I stand by Gage silently, rooted in place.
This is awkward. —so awkward.
Why is this so awkward? No, I know why immediately. Because we’ve had sex twice and we haven’t talked about what it means.
The first time, sure, it can be forgiven since we both were frustrated and there was pent-up aggression towards the other, but after last night, things are different now.
We didn’t have sex purely out of anger; it was like it was a necessity, inevitable. It was purely desire at that point, and the way he pulled me away from that other guy wasn’t because he didn’t like me at all. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t care who I danced with.
“I need to talk to you,” I tell him, and he sighs softly, already bracing.
“Can this wait? I got to check on Jesse and Mason before we send the cattle out to the pasture again,” he says as he starts to walk around me, but I step in front of him to block his path, planting my boots.
“It’s important.” I stare at him to convey how serious this is, not blinking.
I’ve learned that Gage has a habit of trying to avoid confrontation or anything involving talking, but if he just took the time to listen instead of running away, we’d probably have a different situation on our hands right now.
He sighs deeply, clearly bothered by my interruption, but he’s really going to hate it if he sends out the cattle to a pasture that isn’t protected and something goes wrong.
Of course, I know he thinks what I want to tell him has nothing to do with the ranch, but if that’s the conversation that comes out of this, then so be it for once. It’s long overdue anyway, and he knows it.
He holds his arm out to send me out of the large barn, not wanting Hank to overhear anything—not that he could from this distance.
The machines inside drown out most of the sound, and Hank is down on the far side of the barn. I’ll bet he’s expecting us to get into it, since we can’t seem to have a conversation without it turning tense lately.
We walk out of the cattle barn and cross to the horse barn. Every step closer feels uneasy—tight in my chest—because every moment spent with him is like a ticking time bomb.
He’s either going to simmer and burn out, or he’s going to erupt. Either way never ends well for me because somehow I’m always in the middle of it with him.
I wish it weren’t this way, but ever since I walked on this ranch, he’s been looking for reasons to deem me the bad guy. No matter how many attempts I make to prove I want what is best for this place, it’s never enough.
We step inside, and he shuts the door behind us harder than necessary. I turn around and face him, his boots shuffling against the dirt as he places his hands on his waist. “All right, state your piece,” he says, holding one hand out to move me along.
I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Ain’t it obvious? You want to talk about our moments of weakness and—” I hold my hand up.
“I’m sorry, our moments of weakness?” I ask him, suddenly scoffing out loud. “During the storm, sure, I’ll admit it was a lapse of judgment on both of our parts, but last night was all you,” I reply, making sure he understands that it was he who came to me, not the other way around.
Did I give in? Sure, I’ll admit it, I’m not innocent in that regard, but I didn’t seek it out like he did. If it wasn’t for him getting all huffy and puffy, none of this would have happened in the first place.
“Wow, you really don’t like to take responsibility for anything, do you?” he asks, almost amused, and as much as I want to continue this conversation, it isn’t the time right now.
I didn’t ask to speak with him privately to hash out whatever is going on between us, but unfortunately, based on how this conversation has turned, I doubt I’ll have him in a good mood at all now.
“As much as I want to respond to that, this isn’t why I needed to speak to you,” I tell him, changing the subject deliberately. His face visibly shifts to concern, guarded and sharp.
The nerves over how he is going to react begin to pool inside my stomach, but like all fears, I know I have to face them head-on.
“I was walking the perimeter, trying to clear my head, when I saw a cut in the fence.”
He curses under his breath. “The new one?” I nod, and he sighs deeply, turning away. I don’t have to see him to feel the heat of his anger boiling. He suddenly whips his hand up to his hat, takes it off his head, and throws it to the ground.
He turns around, his eyes seething, but that’s when I realize that his anger isn’t directed at the fence—it’s toward me. “What the hell happened?”
My eyes widen. “Me? You think I cut the fence?” I ask him, and he shrugs.
“I don’t know, Sloane. Everything has been turning to shit since you showed up, and you’ve been acting weird as all hell, so you can’t blame me for not trusting you,” he says, and I shake my head in disbelief.
Is he being serious right now?
Everything I have ever tried to do for this place has been for the good of it, every single bit.
The only reason Gage can’t see that is because he’s never taken the time to listen to anything I’ve said. And weird?
Weird my ass—that’s rich. If anything is weird around here, it’s the old water main and the large cut in the east part of the fence that no one wants to explain.