3. Tammy #3
Standing up on wobbly legs, I moved down the rest of the stairs and leaned over to pick up the nearly empty glass bottle.
About a half inch of whiskey sloshed inside.
The stars kept falling overhead and I lifted the whiskey to my lips.
I swallowed it slowly; the wetness no longer burned a path down my throat but instead spread gentle warmth throughout my limbs.
My brain grew fuzzy and the depression thoughts faded.
I glanced over at the pasture. Mystery was gone, likely settled to rest in his stall.
It was going to be a beautiful night, so maybe I wouldn’t bother gating them inside the stables.
Sassafras still stood beneath starlight, looking almost ghostly.
My eyes shifted over to Artie, who was almost prancing after a little flock of fireflies.
The old guy always seemed to come alive at night, like his ancient bones gained fresh life as soon as the sunlight left.
"What am I going to do?" I asked the universe softly.
Of course, the universe stayed achingly quiet. No response. No easy answer.
Artie nickered happily though, and that sound made me smile despite myself.
Yet, soon after, a fresh wave of melancholy washed over me.
What would it be like to have that kind of simplicity?
To live without the constant pressure of bills and deadlines and expectations?
To exist, eating grass and feeling the sun on your back, with no concept of tomorrow beyond whether it might rain?
I moved inside the house, beelining for a fresh whiskey bottle. Did I need it? No. But tomorrow would come with or without a hangover. The bank would still want its money. Mystery and Sassafras would still hate each other. Derek would still be waiting for me to fail.
Derek. The thought of him once again made my jaw clench. He'd been so certain I'd come crawling back, begging for his help, admitting he was right about me all along. And here I was, so many months later, precisely where he'd predicted I'd be—broke, desperate, and out of options.
Except giving up. I still had that option, didn't I?
I could call him tomorrow, swallow my pride along with his smugness, and save what little I had left.
He'd take me back—he'd made that clear enough.
I could return to a life of financial stability, comfortable furniture, and being told to "just stand there and look pretty. "
The very thought made bile rise in my throat. Or maybe that was the whiskey. Too much of a good, numbing thing.
I made myself stop before cracking open a second liquor bottle.
I moved to the kitchen window, watching another shooting star blaze across the sky, brighter than the others, its trail lingering like a question mark.
The oddly moving, blue hued comet was gone.
Could I make another wish? The first falling star was long gone.
What would I wish for if I could have anything in the world? Not money—though that would solve my immediate problems. Not success—though that would prove Derek wrong. Not even for Mystery and Sassafras to suddenly fall madly in love—though that would save my ranch.
No, what I wanted more than anything was to prove to myself that I wasn't just decorative. My hands weren’t only made for manicures.
My mind wasn’t a paperweight. My will was just as strong as some knuckle-headed, cowboy hat wearing man’s.
I was more than the pretty redhead who'd looked good on Derek's arm at agricultural galas and horse auctions.
The stars blurred slightly as unwelcome tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away, angry at my own weakness. Crying solved nothing. Neither did sitting here feeling sorry for myself.
The tears halted when my gaze caught that strange light in the sky again, moving in a way no star or plane should move. It seemed brighter now, though that could have been a trick of my alcohol-blurred vision. Was it getting closer?
I closed my eyes, shaking my head sharply.
“Get it together, Tucker,” I scolded myself.
I parted my lashes, finding the light again.
For a heartbeat, it really did appear to come closer to the ground and hover directly over my property before drifting toward the distant tree line that marked the border of Sunflower Hills.
"Send help if you're aliens," I called out to it, laughing at my own absurdity. "Preferably in the form of horse aphrodisiacs or lottery winnings."
The light pulsed once, as if in acknowledgment, then disappeared behind the trees.
I shook my head, blaming the whiskey for making me talk to strange lights in the sky.
Next thing you know, I'd be having heart-to-hearts with the refrigerator about its rattling noise and how it wasn’t helping my mental state.
Inside the house, my bed called to me—the one luxury I'd allowed myself when purchasing this place, a memory foam mattress that cradled my exhausted body at the end of each grueling day. Tomorrow would bring another day. Another new beginning. Another matchmaking attempt.
Whatever happened, I'd face it on my feet, not on my knees begging for a savior. Derek had been wrong about so many things when it came to me. I was determined to make sure he was wrong about this too.
I might lose my ranch. I might lose my horses. I might lose everything I'd worked for. But I wouldn't lose myself. Not again. Not ever.