The Stars in the Sky (Giving You ... #2) (22 page)

"Of course not."

"But you just said it."

He sighed. "You asked me before why I'm not a feminist. This is one of the reasons. Can't talk to you the way I would talk with a man. Men and women are different. We do different things, we see the world differently. Doesn't make one better than the other. You talk to me differently than you talk to Amelia."

Yeah, I've objectified men. I just looked at him, not answering, not caring that I was being unreasonable.

"We all do it darlin'. Doesn't mean that I don't respect you. Doesn't mean that I have something against women. I just don't support the political feminist agenda."

There.

This, this wasn’t going to work.

It wasn’t working.

I shouldn’t have started it with him.

"This is the problem, Will. You are so closed mouth and sometimes what comes out of your mouth is totally wrong. Totally against my ideals."

"Fuck your ideals," he retorted, immediately.

"See, that's the thing," I said, wagging a finger in his face. "You can say fuck my ideals, but what about yours? What about yours big guy? What have you said fuck it to, for me?"

"Quit chewing for you," he said matter-of-factly.

Oh no. He did.

"Wore your damn shirt. Sang your songs. Drove in your car. Don't want to be listing this shit, just pay attention, Marie. It's not a one-way street here. We're both giving and taking. Wake up."

Wake up.

Fuck.

I glared at him.

"Take me back to Headlands," I demanded.

He nodded.

We got up, waved to Genevieve, and got the fuck out of there, driving back to the compound. Not saying a word the entire time.

When he stopped the truck, I opened the door, managed out, "Thanks for the ride," and ran into the bunkhouse, down the hall, into the bedroom, which was mercifully empty, shut the door, and called Amelia.

I briefed her about our fight and she started asking questions.

“He’s just so yucky conservative.”

“You knew that from the first,” Amelia replied.

"He referred to women as just pussy," I complained. I started pacing the room.

"We've done that," she said reasonably.

"Ugh, but it was different with him."

"We do it too, Marie. We talk about men's bodies too. Does he walk all over you?"

"No."

"Does he listen to you?" Uh, oh. She was getting into lawyer interrogation mode.

"Yes." I kept pacing.

"Does he force you to do something you don't want to do?" Major badass lawyer interrogation mode.

I blew out a breath. "No."

"Does he want you to change?"

I felt defensive. "He dared me to eat ice cream."

"A dare is different. And did you?"

"McConnell's."

"Good choice. Yum. I may have to go there with Ryan soon. Sorry, I'm digressing. He doesn't make you not be
you
, though, does he?"

"No. He takes me as I am. He just argues with me when he doesn't agree with me. But he doesn't tell me to not be me," I said in a whisper.

"There's your answer," she said gently.

Fuck. Maybe.

"How do you feel about him?"

"I only want to be with him. When we went to Tri-County, I saw Jeremy—"

She snorted. "Man Bun? How is he?"

"Well he paled in comparison to Will."

"I could have told you that."

"Actually, the cowboy is all I'm thinking about these days. And we aren't even doing it."

"Huh?"

"I told him I wanted a sex moratorium until we worked out our shit."

She laughed. "And he agreed to that?"

"Yeah."

She paused for a moment. And then she continued, rocking my world. "He loves you. Straight up. No lying. He's fallen for you. No guy, especially no tough cowboy, would give you that unless he really cared about you."

"He gave me the keys to his truck," I said in a small voice.

"Shall we start working on table arrangements for the wedding? That's my favorite part—"

"Fuck off, Amelia. Speaking of weddings, how are plans for yours?"

Giggling, she started on her favorite topic. "It's going to be sooner, rather than later. And I can't wait, honestly. My mom wants it to be all big and Ryan doesn't care, but I want it to be small and informal." She stopped. "Wait. Don't change the subject. How is the heart opening, Marie?"

"I'm working on it."

"Really?"

"Maybe."

But I stayed in the bunkhouse the rest of the night.

Doghouse

"YOU DIDN'T COME TO me so figured I'd come to you."

The mattress dipped as Will sat on my bunk next to me, dressed, wearing boots and his green trucker hat. He was so big, he totally dominated my sleeping space.

It was early morning. Cookie's triangle hadn't rung yet. I was sleepy, bleary-eyed, and completely out of it. Janine and Stephanie slept, one of them gently snoring.

"We gotta talk about this shit. Figured I'd give you time. But I don't like you in here and not in my bed with me."

I sat up in the bottom bunk and blinked at him. This early, it was hard not to stare at him. He really was gloriously handsome, with his deep brown eyes looking concerned. He handed me a cup of coffee, which I took, silently.

"Take the time you need, Marie, but don't shut me out. Don't stay here tonight, stay with me," he said roughly. He got up off the mattress and started to walk to the door.

"Wait," I blurted. He paused, his hand on the door jamb.

"Yeah?"

"I'll stay with you tonight."

He nodded and took off down the hall, the sound of the clomping of his boots getting quieter as he got farther away.

"And maybe every night for the rest of my life," I whispered.

I took a sip of the coffee and it tasted very good.

Maybe I needed to stop thinking of excuses to get mad at him and start thinking of reasons to be with him. I knew that I'd never been with anyone like him. He was so into me and he didn't care who knew or who saw. But identifying how I felt about him? That would require honesty with myself that I wasn't sure I was ready for. I knew that he attracted me on a lot of levels. And I knew that it grew stronger each day. And I knew that he was more complicated than I allowed him to be. I’d given in and called him my boyfriend. We were together now. But admitting to myself how I felt about him? I still couldn't do it.

Then the triangle rung. I got out of bed, showered, dressed, and walked to the chow hall for breakfast.

Will sat in there with Jimmy, eating pancakes and bacon. I made instant oatmeal, added dried fruit and agave, and joined them, sitting next to Will and brushing up against him on purpose. He responded by wrapping his arm around my shoulders and giving me a squeeze.

I don't know if all was forgiven on either side. All I knew was that I liked being next to him, and he made me feel cared for and comfortable when he wasn't pissing me off.

Will and Jimmy were discussing needed maintenance around the ranch.

"You know Al Gore gets a dollar for every compact fluorescent light bulb that's sold in the US," said Jimmy.

Will laughed. "As much as I'd like to believe that, I don't think it's true. That's probably some internet shit. Some bulbs cost less than a buck. And I think they'll save us cash down the line. We might want to get LEDs, though. The prices are coming down."

So Will could think independently from the party line. I knew he had a brain. I felt heartened to see that he used it.

After breakfast, two vans pulled up with the kids, six boys from ages nine to fourteen, from the ASD program, along with their parents and therapists. The upcoming week made me nervous and I hoped that the autistic kids would find a connection forged somehow, somewhere, with something or someone.

As the children got off the van, most of them milled around, but the oldest-looking boy, jean-clad, cute, gangly, with brown hair and brown eyes, came right up to me, looking at my shoulder, struggling to make eye contact. "Hello. My name is Charles. What is your name? I have high functioning Asperger's and my father tells me to introduce myself to every adult I meet." And he shook my hand firmly, looking at my ear. I could tell that he had been told to introduce himself and make eye contact and he just couldn't. I instantly fell for him. What a sweetie.

I smiled at him and said, "Nice to meet you, Charles. Thank you for introducing yourself. My name is Marie."

I noticed that one younger boy named Travis acted particularly rambunctious, running around the area in front. But then Travis saw Will walk over with Trixie and immediately ran to her, petting her head as she wagged her tail and licked him.

I thought of something. "Will, how come you didn't dock Trixie's tail. Don't most Australian Shepherds have a docked tail?"

"Some do, some don't. Couldn't cut her tail for vanity. Seemed pretty stupid."

My heart cracked open a little bit more. Will wouldn't hurt a dog.

Travis's mother came over to me, and said, "Can the dog stay around him? He opens up around animals and . . ." She trailed off, looking close to tears.

I reached over and squeezed her hand. "Of course. I think that Will can spare Trixie for a little bit."

"'Course," he said amiably. "She'll love the attention. He can spend as much time with her as he wants. She'll be happy to stay out of the doghouse."

"She doesn't sleep in the doghouse and you know it," I said, chiding him and giving him a gentle shove on his chest.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "She was in the doghouse with me last night and we're not gonna do it again."

For some reason, this made me warm all over. He put a hand on my bicep, squeezed it, and he took off, loping to the barn.

Happy

LATER THAT DAY, I wandered back over to the barn to visit Happy. When I got to his stall, I noticed him pawing at the ground, agitated, sweat running off of him. This wasn’t my sweet, docile horse. Something bothered him. I walked outside and called over to Will, who stood next to the corral.

"Can you come here? Is there something wrong with Happy?"

Will came jogging inside, shot into the stall, and put his ear to the horse's belly while Happy moved, agitated, and pawed the ground. He took a step back and looked at Happy, then felt under his jaw.

"Fuck."

He ran outside and called to the wranglers, who were still in the corral with the other horses. "Jimmy! Call Sully now."

Jimmy nodded and started punching numbers into his cell phone, running toward the barn.

"What's going on, Will?"

"Think he's colicking. We're in for a long ride. We gotta act now, though."

"What does that mean?"

"There are no sounds in his gut. Means it's probably not working. His pulse rate is high. Has he been eating?" he asked Jimmy, who had come inside.

"I didn't really notice, but it hasn't been as much as usual."

"Fuck, shit, damn," growled Will.

"He didn’t touch his hay the other day and his stall was clean," I said.

"Oh no," whispered Janine, coming over. "Why didn't we notice?"

Jimmy explained, to me, "With animals, it's like having a baby. They can't tell you what's wrong, they can only show you that they are in distress." He paused, talking into the phone, "Dr. Sullivan, please, it's an emergency." He continued, looking at me, "There are a couple of different types of colic. If it's the impaction type, well, that means something is stuck in his system and we can flush him out with oil or water. But if it's the twisted type." He paused. "Hope it's not." Then he started speaking into the cell phone. "Sully? It's Jimmy at Headlands. I think we have a colicking horse." He walked over to the side of the barn.

"What does that mean, the twisted type?" I asked Will.

"Well, sometimes a horse can't recover from the twisted type of colic. Or it's a really expensive surgery and we don't have the budget for it. And if we can't do the surgery, it means euthanizing the horse."

Oh no. Happy. No.

No animal could get hurt on my watch. Never.

"Should we give him Banamine?" asked Janine.

"What's that?" I asked.