Chapter Twelve
Ryan sat at the wooden kitchen table, early morning light slanting through the blinds and pooling on the surface. She thumbed through her phone, no unread texts, no new emails in her personal account. Her pulse fluttered. Why hadn’t he answered?
Skylar slipped into the kitchen, made herself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the table. “What do you want to do today?” she asked, voice hushed against the hum of the fridge.
“How about nothing?” Ryan murmured, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Sounds like a perfect day,” Skylar agreed, shoulders relaxing.
Ryan met her gaze. “Should you be writing?”
Skylar shook her head. “I should, but I’m not. I need a break.”
“Okay. I do need to head to town first, I need shampoo, soap, a few other things.”
“I’ll go change,” Skylar said, strolling toward the stairs. She glanced back at Ryan’s phone. “Anything?”
Ryan bit her lower lip. She shook her head, soft as a sigh. “No. Nothing.”
Skylar offered a sympathetic smile, then padded up the carpeted stairs, her footsteps muffled.
Ryan watched the shadows in the hall lengthen, then gathered her purse.
She wondered how her life would be without Skylar, her best friend since fifth grade, a shoulder to cry on through every heartbreak; boyfriends, fiancés, husbands.
Both of them had been cheated on; both of them had dragged each other back from the edge.
Skylar, with her long, glossy, golden hair and light blue eyes, turned heads everywhere she went, but to Ryan she’d always been the sweetest sister she never had.
A few minutes later they merged onto the four-lane road, the Camaro’s engine rumbling beneath them.
They pulled into the fluorescent glare of the department store parking lot.
Inside, Skylar steered a squeaky cart down aisle after aisle, browsing row upon row of shampoos in plastic bottles, bars of soap wrapped in pastel paper, and endless household trinkets.
Ryan wandered beside her, arms crossed, shaking her head at Skylar’s impulse buys.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and froze.
“Skylar,” she whispered, voice quaking, as she saw who the message was from. Shoulder still turning to the shelf, Skylar didn’t hear. Ryan tried again, a little louder: “Skylar!” The voice cracked, drawing stares from the other shoppers.
Skylar snapped around, brows raised, hand darting to the jewelry wheel display. “What?”
Ryan hurried across the linoleum floor and thrust her phone in Skylar’s face. The fluorescent lights glinted off Skylar’s hair as she leaned in.
“Is that from Seth?”
Ryan’s breath caught. “Yes.”
“Well, open it.”
“I’m afraid to.” Ryan’s fingers shook as she handed the phone to Skylar. “You read it.”
Skylar’s lips curved with gentle confidence. “Are you sure?”
Ryan exhaled, eyes fixed on the screen. “Yes. No.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll do it.” Her thumb hovered, then tapped.
Skylar folded her arms, leaning back on one foot. “How about telling me what it says, today sometime?”
Ryan’s jaw clenched. She scrolled. Her frown deepened as she read.
I appreciate the photos. The guys enjoyed them.
“What’s that look for?” Skylar peered over Ryan’s shoulder, then glanced at the short message.
“Nice, huh? Does he hate me or what?” Ryan blinked, holding tears at bay.
“He doesn’t hate you. He still thinks you belong here, with us, not with him.”
Ryan shook her head. “I’m not texting back. That was so… to the point. He’s obviously not interested.”
Skylar shrugged, already steering the cart toward the checkout lanes. “I think we need more wine.”
“A case might do it,” Ryan muttered, voice low, as they unloaded their haul onto the conveyor belt.
The cashier’s scanner beeped, plastic bags rustled, and the sun slanted across the parking lot as they carried their shopping out.
They slid into Skylar’s car, its leather seats warmed by the sun, and pulled away, detouring to the liquor store, where they didn’t actually fill up the trunk, but they got enough to get them through today and tonight, before finally heading back to the townhouse.
The following week seemed to fly by and soon, it was another Friday.
The soft light filtered through the high windows as Ryan stepped into the magazine’s open-plan office.
Her heels clicked against the polished floor, a gentle echo in the hush before the workday mania.
At her desk, she eased open the bottom drawer and tucked her purse out of sight, its leather clasp clicking as she locked the drawer with a twist. She tugged her chair toward her, the back sighing as it shifted, then settled in and nudged the seat closer until she could feel the cool edge of her keyboard beneath her palms. A soft hum rose as the computer whirred to life.
A new message alert chimed, and Ryan leaned forward to open an email from Doris.
The glow of the screen highlighted her smile.
Doris adored the idea of an in-depth feature on Clifton, Montana.
Even better, she’d already reserved a room at the local B and B for next summer.
She told Ryan she lucked out because someone cancelled a reservation.
Ryan’s heart warmed at the thought, she tapped out a reply, telling Doris she’d fallen in love with Clifton’s rolling wheat fields and quaint town herself.
She hit Send and watched the email disappear.
Turning to her next task, Ryan pulled up the folder of photos she’d captured the last week she was in Clifton.
Amber stalks of oats waved in the breeze, and cornfields stretched beneath a cloudless sky.
She selected her favorite shots and composed a quick note to Isadora, the photo editor, requesting her input on pairing images with the story’s sections.
Soon, the two of them and the design team would gather in the light-drenched conference room, sorting through shots, fine-tuning colors, retouching blemishes, and sharpening each pixel until every kernel and leaf gleamed on the printed page.
When the art director joined them, they’d clustered around the long table, murmuring over tablets and printouts.
Together with Doris, they’d examined the selection down to a half dozen images, each one chosen to guide readers through Seth’s golden fields and rolling pastures of livestock feed, weaving a visual journey that matched Doris’s words.
By midafternoon, Ryan found herself grinning at the memory of the sun-warmed stalks swaying in time to a passing breeze. She hoped that Seth still subscribed to the issue when it hit newsstands in six months, maybe a year, and that he’d feel proud of the difference the livestock feed he grew made.
As the clock ticked toward quitting time, Ryan rose, unlocked her desk drawer, and retrieved her purse.
She tucked her chair beneath the desk, its soft wheels whispering against the floor.
Overhead, the fluorescent lights blinked off one by one, plunging the office into a muted twilight.
She glanced at Doris’s office door, dark, as if its occupant had already melted into the night.
“Goodnight, Ryan,” called LeeAnn from across the room, her fingers still dancing over the last lines of her latest article.
“Night, LeeAnn. Late Friday, you’re such a trooper,” Ryan teased.
LeeAnn grinned. “Perry’s waiting. Just wrapping this up.” She waved a pen. “You have a great weekend.”
“You too. See you Monday,” Ryan said, returning the wave. She padded to the glass entrance, pushed the door open, and slipped into the elevator. It descended with a soft whoosh to the subterranean garage, where rows of muted SUVs and sedans stood in neat ranks under pale sodium lights.
Ryan aimed her remote at her own SUV. Two flashes of light and a single beep answered her.
She slid into the driver’s seat, tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, and closed the door.
The engine rumbled to life. Pulling up to the gate, she punched in her access code; the barrier arm swung upward with a clank.
Waving at the lone security guard behind the glass booth, Ryan eased her vehicle through and headed out into the hot night air.
She knew she had to be alone tonight since Skylar had a date.
Ryan hoped it worked out for her because her own love life sucked.
****
Monday morning, Seth entered the arena with a hot cup of coffee, the scent of rich Colombian roast mingling with the earthy smells of hay and leather. He stopped mid-stride when he saw Cull strolling toward him, cowboy boots scuffing against the cement floor.
“Morning,” Cull said, squinting against the sunlight streaming through the high windows.
“Good morning,” Seth replied, his voice rough from lack of sleep.
“You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” Cull’s face creased with concern. “Those dark circles under your eyes are practically permanent fixtures now.”
“I haven’t, smartass.” Seth took a defensive sip of his coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue. “Let it go.”
“I’m not the one who can’t sleep. Damn, Seth.” Cull crossed his arms over his chest, his T-shirt pulling tight across his shoulders and arms. “You’re miserable and all you had to do was say one word: stay. But you couldn’t do that and we’re all suffering for it.”
“And if she had stayed,” Seth’s knuckles whitened around the coffee cup, “what happened when she wanted to go?”
“Then you let her go. It means she wasn’t the one for you.” Cull shook his head; his hat casting shadows across his face. “But I’m telling you, Seth, she is. You’re going to lose the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“I’ve already lost her, Cull,” Seth snapped, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“You still have a chance to make it right.” Cull stepped closer. “Do you want to be alone the rest of your life?”
Seth clenched his jaw and narrowed his bloodshot eyes. “Why not? You do,” he snapped, his words hanging between them like frost on glass.