4. Callie
CALLIE
Jolene's porch light was on.
I sat in my truck for a full minute before I killed the engine. The dashboard clock read eleven forty-three. Too late to show up at someone's house unannounced, even your best friend's. But I'd driven here without thinking, and now I was parked in her driveway with nowhere else to go.
The front door opened before I made it halfway up the walk. Jolene stood there in flannel pajama pants and an old sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She took one look at my face and stepped aside.
"Get in here."
I walked past her into the warmth of her living room. The TV was on, some cooking show playing on mute. A mug sat on the coffee table, steam still rising from it.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I should've called first."
"Don't be ridiculous." She shut the door and turned to face me, arms crossed. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened." The words came out too fast, too defensive. I twisted my wedding ring around my finger, then made myself stop. "I just needed to get out of the house for a bit."
Jolene's eyes narrowed. She gestured to the couch. "Sit."
I sat. She settled into the armchair across from me, pulling her feet up under her. The position was so familiar it made my chest ache — how many nights had we sat exactly like this when we were younger, talking until dawn about everything and nothing?
"So," Jolene said. "You drove twenty minutes at midnight because you needed to get out of the house."
"Wade's busy." I picked at a loose thread on the couch cushion. "He's got the Bradshaw deal, and there's been some complications with the land surveys, and Shelby's father needs him to look over the mineral rights paperwork before they can move forward with the expansion."
"Callie."
"And you know how it is this time of year. Calving season's starting up, and we've got a sick cow in the quarantine pen and three more showing early signs, and someone has to keep an eye on the orphan calves?—"
"Callie."
I looked up. Jolene was watching me with that expression she got when she was trying to decide whether to let something go or push. God, I knew that look. I'd been on the receiving end of it a thousand times.
"What's really going on?" she asked.
My throat closed around the words. I wanted to tell her everything — the bedroom, the phone call, the way Wade had looked at me like I was being unreasonable for wanting him to stay. But saying it out loud would make it real, and I wasn't ready for that.
"Nothing's going on." I forced a smile. "Wade and I are fine. We're just . . . we're busy right now."
"You drove here at midnight because you're busy."
"I drove here because I wanted to see you." That part was true, at least. "We haven't talked in person in weeks. I miss you."
Jolene's expression softened slightly, but she didn't let it go. "We talked on the phone this morning about the rescue. You sounded fine then."
"I was fine this morning." I was making this worse. I could hear it in my own voice, the way it kept climbing higher. "I'm fine now. I just?—"
"You're not fine."
The words hung in the air between us. I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. My fingers had started to tremble, so I laced them together in my lap and took a breath.
"It's not a big deal," I said finally. "Every marriage goes through rough patches. That's normal. And with a family like Wade's, there are certain . . . expectations. Things you have to accept."
"What things?"
"Just—" I gestured vaguely. "His family comes first. The ranch comes first. The business comes first. I knew that when I married him. It's the price you pay when you marry into a family like the Rutledges."
"The price," Jolene repeated slowly.
"You know what I mean." I was talking faster now, the words tumbling out like if I said them quick enough they'd sound more convincing.
"Wade's got responsibilities I'll never have.
His family has worked that ranch for generations, and now Wade's carrying all of it.
The legacy, the name, the land. I can't expect him to drop everything just because I want his attention. "
"Why not?"
The question caught me off guard. "What?"
"Why can't you expect your husband to give you his attention?"
"Because he's—" I stopped. Started again. "Because he has a lot on his plate right now. The Bradshaw deal is important. It's about securing the future of the ranch, and the oil leases will set the family up for generations, and Wade's the only one his father trusts to handle the negotiations."
"So he's with Shelby."
My stomach dropped. "He's working with her father."
"But Shelby's there."
"Sometimes. When her father needs her to be."
Jolene leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "How often is sometimes?"
"I don't know." I twisted my ring again. "A few times a week, maybe. It depends on what stage the paperwork's at."
"And how do you feel about that?"
"I feel fine," I said.
"Callie."
"I do. I trust Wade. He's not—" I couldn't even say it. "He's just trying to close the deal."
"That's not what I asked."
I looked away. The cooking show was still playing on the TV, some chef chopping vegetables with quick, precise movements. The normalcy of it felt absurd.
"There's distance," I admitted. The words felt like they were being dragged out of me. "Between us. More than there used to be."
Jolene didn't say anything. She just waited.
"He's tired all the time," I continued. "And when he is home, he's distracted.
I'll try to talk to him and he'll just—" I made a vague gesture.
"His phone rings and he's gone. Or his mother calls and he has to deal with whatever she needs.
Or Travis stops by with some problem about the cattle, and suddenly it's an hour later and Wade's out in the barn. "
"When's the last time you two had dinner together?"
I tried to remember. Came up blank. "I don't know. A week ago? Maybe two?"
"When's the last time you had a conversation that wasn't about the ranch?"
Longer than that. Long enough that I couldn't pinpoint it.
"Things have been hectic," I said weakly.
Jolene sat back in her chair. When she spoke, her voice was careful. Deliberate. "Callie, you're being overlooked."
The word landed like a slap. I flushed all the way to my hairline. "That's not?—"
"You're being neglected."
"Wade's not neglecting me. He's just?—"
"You're being ignored."
"Stop."
"And you're being humiliated."
"That's not fair." My voice cracked. I was gripping the couch cushion hard enough that my knuckles had gone white. "Wade isn't trying to hurt me. He doesn't even know?—"
I cut myself off, but it was too late.
"He doesn't even know what?" Jolene prompted gently.
That I was hurting. That I spent half my nights alone in bed wondering where my marriage had gone. That I watched him with Shelby and felt like I was disappearing.
"He's busy," I said again.
Jolene shook her head. "You keep saying that like it's an excuse."
"It's an explanation."
"It's a reason you're giving him to treat you like you don't matter."
The words hit something deep in my chest. I wanted to argue, to defend Wade, to explain that it wasn't like that. But my throat had closed up and I couldn't get any sound out.
Jolene stood and moved to the couch, sitting down beside me. She didn't touch me, just sat close enough that I could feel her presence.
"How does his family treat you?" she asked quietly.
"Fine." The lie tasted bitter. "They're fine."
"Callie."
"Marlene thinks the rescue is a hobby." The words came out flat. "She told me that once, at a family dinner. Said it was sweet that I had something to keep me occupied while Wade did the real work."
Jolene made a disgusted sound. "Jesus."
"And Travis—" I stopped. Swallowed. "Travis backs Shelby. Every time she says something about the ranch or the cattle or the business, he agrees with her. Like she already belongs there and I'm just visiting."
"What about Wade? What does he say when they do that?"
Nothing. He said nothing because he didn't notice. Or he noticed and thought it wasn't worth making a fuss over. Either option made me feel small.
"He keeps the peace," I said.
"At your expense."
"At everyone's expense. That's just how he is. He doesn't like conflict."
"So he lets his family walk all over you."
"They're not walking all over me."
"Then what are they doing?"
I didn't have an answer for that. Or I did, but I didn't want to say it out loud.
Jolene waited a beat, then shifted gears. "What about the rescue?"
"What about it?"
"When's the last time you were out there?"
"I talk to you every week."
"On the phone. When's the last time you actually came out and worked with the animals?"
I couldn't remember. Months, maybe. Long enough that the answer was embarrassing.
"I've been busy with the ranch," I said.
"Doing what?"
"The orphan calves. The sick cows. The working dogs."
"The invisible work."
"It's not invisible. Someone has to do it."
"But does anyone see you doing it?" Jolene's voice was gentle, but relentless.
"Does Wade know you're the one up at three in the morning bottle-feeding the calves?
Does his father know you're the one who caught those cows before they got worse?
Does anyone in that family give you credit for the work you do? "
"I don't need credit."
"You need to be seen, Callie. And you're not. You've given up the rescue, you've given up your own place in the world, and for what? So Wade's family can take credit for your work while Shelby Bradshaw sits in your spot?"
The truth of it knocked the breath out of me. I'd been shrinking. Bit by bit, day by day, making myself smaller to fit into the space Wade's family had left for me. And it still wasn't enough.
"I don't know what you want me to do," I said. My voice sounded hollow.
"I want you to stop shrinking." Jolene turned to face me fully. "I want you to claim your place in Wade's world. You founded a rescue that saved hundreds of animals. You keep that ranch running with work nobody else wants to do. You are Wade Rutledge's wife, and you deserve to be treated like it."
"I can't just?—"
"Yes, you can. You can tell Wade you need more from him. You can tell his family to stop treating you like you're invisible. You can tell Shelby Bradshaw to back off."
"And if he doesn't listen?"
"Then you'll know where you stand."
The possibility weighed on me more than anything else.
But what if I didn't push? What if I kept shrinking until there was nothing left of me at all?
I looked down at my hands. My wedding ring caught the light from the lamp, a thin gold band that I'd worn for ten years. I'd said vows. I'd meant them. I still meant them.
"I love him," I said quietly.
"I know you do."
"I want my marriage to work."
"Then fight for it." Jolene's hand covered mine. "Stop making excuses for him. Stop accepting being overlooked. Stop letting his family and Shelby Bradshaw take what's yours. Wade's your husband. The ranch is your home. Make him see that."
Something settled in my chest. A decision I hadn't known I was making.
She was right. I'd been making excuses for months — for Wade's absence, for his family's dismissal, for Shelby's presence in my marriage. I'd told myself it was temporary, that things would get better once the Bradshaw deal closed, once calving season ended, once Wade was less busy.
But Wade was always going to be busy. His family was always going to take him for granted. Shelby was always going to be circling.
Unless I stopped letting them.
"Okay," I said.
Jolene squeezed my hand. "Okay?"
"Okay." I took a shaky breath. "I'll fight for it."
For my marriage. For my place in Wade's life. For everything I'd given up and everything I was losing.
I didn't know if it would be enough. But I knew I couldn't keep going the way I had been, shrinking and silent.
I was done making excuses.
Jolene pulled me into a hug. I let myself lean into it, taking comfort in the familiar smell of her lavender shampoo and the steady warmth of her presence. She'd always been the brave one, the one who said what needed saying even when it hurt. I'd forgotten how much I needed that.
When she pulled back, she was smiling. Not a big smile, just a small one that said she was proud of me.