Chapter 13 #2
“One time, she was convinced the geese were plotting a town takeover, so she tried to trap them and humanely transfer them to Malta. She was so proud of herself for getting them under the net, until Holden—that’s our sheriff—showed up and arrested her for trespassing.
She was on private land, and the geese were decoys set up by the farmer for hunting season. ”
“I had to go bail her out,” Sylvie shakes her head as if severely disappointed in her aunt, but her shaking shoulders tell a different story. She grabs the bottle I pass to her, taking her own pull.
The three of us laugh, the atmosphere loosening, easy. It’s strange how quickly I feel included, like I’ve always been part of their rhythm.
“It’s nice we got to do this, just us women,” Sylvie says after a moment, eyes kind. “I know it’s gotta feel weird sometimes. You’ve suddenly been shoved into the middle of our little clusterfuck. Our family setup is more complicated than most.”
“It’s different,” I say honestly. “But not in a bad way. You guys clearly love Ben. That’s what matters.”
Mandy smiles softly. “We’re glad you’re here. Colt doesn’t let just anyone in, you know.”
“He struggles with his emotions,” Sylvie cautions. “So if he’s acting weird lately, just know, it’s not you. It’s definitely him.”
That gets another laugh, but it dies out as the porch door creaks open again.
Colt stops on the first porch step, his eyes immediately landing on the three of us. His cap is low, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw tight like he’s been grinding his teeth since the moment he got back from the barn.
“Hey,” Mandy says, giving him a raised brow. “You good?”
“I’m fine,” Colt mutters, then glances at Sylvie. “Didn’t know you were coming over. Ben’s just getting Batman untacked with Rooster.”
“Well, hello to you, too, sunshine,” she says dryly, standing and dusting off her jeans. “Don’t worry, we were just leaving. We’ll help Ben get ready for bed, then send him over.”
Mandy gets to her feet too, brushing a hand across my shoulder as she passes. “You okay here?” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Thanks for hanging out.”
“Anytime,” she says, and the two women disappear with a final wave, murmuring to each other as they head back down the steps. I catch Sylvie’s voice saying, “Why does he always go full bear when he’s annoyed?” before they disappear around the back of the house, and the wind swallows their voices.
Colt doesn’t sit. He just stands near the railing, arms crossed, the breeze tugging at the hem of his T-shirt.
“So,” he says eventually, not looking at me. “Tanner Reese? Really?”
I blink. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
He finally turns toward me, expression unreadable. “I’m just curious. He doesn’t seem like your type.”
I cross my arms too, mirroring him. “And what is my type, Colt?”
He opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Runs a hand along the back of his neck. “Never mind.”
“He asked me out, and I said yes. He’s going back to Bozeman on Sunday.
It’s not like it’s gonna lead to anything.
” I don’t know why I explain it to him. I don’t owe him anything.
But it’s hard not to tell him everything when he gets that look on his face.
A look that screams that he’s drowning under the voices in his head.
I know that look personally.
“Then why even bother going?”
“Come on, Colt,” I pin him with an unimpressed look. “You’re telling me you only ever go on dates with the intention of meeting your future wife? You never want just a one-night thing?”
“You’re too young to be looking for that sort of thing,” he snaps at me, almost choking over his words. I swear he gasps like a scandalized old woman who’s just heard someone fart in church. If he had pearls, he’d clutch them.
“Seriously? This again?”
“I’m just trying to look out for you,” he grumbles.
“No, you’re not,” I accuse, standing from my seat and slowly loading all of my work back into my tote. “If I did say I was looking for something serious, you would tell me I’m too young to settle down. There’s no making you happy, Colt.”
“That’s not true,” he swallows thickly.
“Really? Then what do you want? What will make you happy?” I sling my tote over my shoulder, crossing my arms defiantly. His eyes travel the length of my body, taking me in from head to toe.
“Nothing good,” he grumbles, brushing past me. His shoulder brushes mine as he passes, headed into his house without another glance in my direction.
So I guess that means our conversation is over.
The rest of the week is spent in tense silence. I mean, I’m an elementary school teacher, so not the whole week is silent, but the parts where I’m at the ranch are definitely quiet.
Colt pretends I’m not even there, even when we sit down to eat dinner together. On Thursday night, I remind him that he’ll have to cook his own dinner on Friday. I’m met with more silence as he tosses the rest of his dinner and heads out to the barn.
On Friday, I come straight home after work. The house is empty. Ben’s going to his friend’s house for a sleepover and got picked up from school, but I don’t know where Colt is. It’s probably for the best that he's not here.
I take a long shower, shave my legs even though I don’t feel like it, and stand in front of my closet longer than necessary.
There’s no real reason to dress up—Tanner and I have only texted a few times since I agreed to go out with him, and all of those messages have been painfully polite.
But I still put on mascara, curl my hair, and wear the green wrap dress that usually makes me feel confident.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror while my stomach twists. I’m not even nervous. I just feel indifferent. Blank. Empty in that quiet-before-a-storm kind of way. And that’s what makes my stomach twist.
The restaurant is nice enough. Dated crystal chandeliers hang above each booth, and the menu is full of things like beet salad and overpriced slabs of meat. I get there first, sit down, and order water to avoid scrolling through my phone like a teenager waiting to be picked up.
Tanner arrives a few minutes later, wearing a navy button-down and jeans that probably cost more than my monthly grocery bill. He greets me with a hug that lasts half a second too long, like he’s trying to prove something.
“You look great,” he says, sliding into the seat across from me.
“Thanks. So do you.”
“Have you been here long?”
“No, I just got here,” I smile politely as he sets his cloth napkin across his lap.
The first fifteen minutes are fine. The waitress comes and takes his drink order with more of an attitude than she had with me. It makes me wonder if they know each other. Should I be taking her distaste for him as a sign?
“I’m kind of scared she’s going to spit in my food,” he mumbles when she returns and slams his drink down in front of him with so much force that liquid sloshes over the sides of the glass.
“Yeah, I don’t know what you did to her, but she is not a fan.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever even met her.” He eyes the back of the waitress’s head before shaking himself out of it. “Should we get an appetizer?”
We talk about work while we wait for our waitress to come back.
He’s in finance, working in a newly built building in Bozeman with a corner office—apparently, that means something.
I mention my class, and he laughs at a story about one of my second graders trying to smuggle a frog into show-and-tell.
He doesn’t ask follow-up questions, though, and I find myself nodding through his story about a coworker’s promotion that I really don’t care about.
The whole way through the appetizer that he insisted we order, escargot, the conversation doesn’t move beyond surface-level small talk.
Every time I try to steer it deeper, he pivots—back to his job, back to golf, back to things that don’t require vulnerability.
There’s no spark. No tension. No curiosity.
It makes me yearn for the end of the date, when I can go home and watch a sitcom with Colt on the couch, even if it is in complete silence.
I don’t think I’ve ever yearned for anything in my life before, but I yearn for this. For Colt.
I’m new to this whole yearning thing, but I didn’t think it worked like making a wish.
I guess I was wrong.