Page 4 of The Little Things
My dad slammed his hand down on the table beside him so hard the objects on top rattled before falling to the floor and shattering. The slap cracked through the apartment like a gunshot, making me jolt. I had never seen my father so angry before, and it was all directed at me.
“That is the last time you’ll speak about that town and those people with that kind of disrespect. You understand me?” He jabbed his finger in my direction, his face growing red. “That place means more to your mom and me than you can possibly understand, and those are some of the best people you’ll ever have the privilege of meeting. Moving away from there was one of the hardest decisions we ever had to make, and there isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t miss it and the friendships we built, the loved ones we left behind. Don’t you dare speak ill of them ever again. Do you hear me?”
I blinked, causing more tears to break free as I nodded, unable to speak as I fought back the sob building in my throat.
“If I were you, I’d use this time to pack your things,” my mom said, her tone flat as she stood from the sofa and started out of the living room. “We’ve already booked your flight out for tomorrow morning. And Rae?” She stopped at the mouth of the hallway that lead toward the bedrooms, turning to look at me over her shoulder, and when she did, I flinched at what I saw. “Don’t let me hear that you went there and disrespected the people I love. It’s bad enough you surrounded yourself with shallow, self-centered leaches during your time here, letting that poison rub off on you. I won’t allow you to treat them the way all your so-called friends treated you when they left you to take all the blame.”
With that perfectly placed shot, she turned and disappeared.
“I suggest you get to work,” my father grumbled as he followed behind her. “Your flight is at seven in the morning.”
Then I was alone, with nothing but my self-loathing to keep me company.
Chapter Three
Zach
Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, pulling in the smells of the trees and the water, the grass beneath me, the faint scent of sweat on my skin from a hard day’s work and the dust of the animals. I filled my lungs with the scents of the land and the work I loved so much. I concentrated on the sound of the river rushing a couple yards away while the jagged bark of the tree I was resting against pressed into my back as I tried to block out the thoughts swirling around in my head, hoping to find the calm I always found whenever I sat in this spot.
It was a place I’d discovered years ago. My favorite place on the ranch I had called home since I was twelve years old. This place offered me peace when my turbulent mind got in the way, letting the memories of the past loose. But I struggled to find that peace today. It was buried deeper below the surface than usual, beneath the weight of the news I received earlier.
Giving up on trying to quiet the thoughts that were raging harder than the river before me, I opened my eyes and stared out at the endless beauty my family’s land provided. It was easy to get lost in the what-ifs of my life if I allowed it. Usually I was better at blocking them out.
What if I hadn’t thrown that rock?
What if Cord hadn’t caught me?
What if Rory hadn’t turned out to be the guardian angel I hadn’t even realized I needed?”
What if, what if, what if.
Today those questions rattled around in my skull and scratched at my skin, refusing to be ignored. It wasn’t hard to get lost in the work as a rancher, especially on a ranch the size of ours, but that blessed quiet just wouldn’t come today. My past had come screaming back to the forefront of my mind with one unexpected visit, and I’d been distracted ever since. To the point I was making careless mistakes.
I managed to snag my hand on the barbwire fence I was repairing earlier and sliced my palm open. I wasn’t paying attention like I should have been and nearly got a chunk of my ass bitten clean off by Gretel, a particularly ornery goat that had taken issue with me since the day she came to the ranch. I knew better than to turn my back on her and the tear in the ass of my jeans where she’d ripped the pocket clean off was proof of that. Thank Christ I’d worn underwear today instead of going commando like I sometimes did, or there would have been no end to the shit I got from my ranch hands.
After nearly getting kicked in the head by one of the young horses we were trying to break, I decided it was for the best that I got my ass out of the way before I got myself or someone else seriously injured and let my crew handle the rest of the work for the day.
I knew if I went home I’d get lost in my own head and most likely find myself at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey, so I climbed on Roam, the horse I’d gotten when I graduated from high school at eighteen, and rode him out to this spot.
It might not have worked its usual magic in helping ease the storm raging inside of me, but at least I had a clear view of the sun lowering over the jagged peaks and ridges of the mountains that surrounded Hope Valley.
The cloudless sky put on a show for me, the colors slowly bleeding into each other and shifting from light to dark as the sun tucked itself away.
The snapping of twigs alerted me to incoming company, and I knew who it was without having to look.
“Thought I’d find you out here.”
I turned in time to watch my grandfather dismount, leading his mild-mannered thoroughbred toward Roam and looping the reins around the branch of a nearby tree before starting toward me. My chest tightened at the way he tried to hide his limp, at the hunch in his shoulders and the slight curve in his back that was becoming more prominent with each passing year.
I could still remember the Bill Hightower I met when I was twelve years old. The giant of a man who’d been so intimidating at first sight I nearly pissed myself. Then he’d spoken, and all that fear disappeared because I realized he was nothing like the countless people who’d come in and out of my life up until that point. There was nothing mean or evil about the man. He was good, through and through. Back then, he’d seemed invincible, larger than life. But seeing the way he favored his left knee thanks to the arthritis or how he constantly reached around to massage at the ever-present aches and pains in his back was a reminder he wasn’t immune to time. He’d been old when I first came into his life, and in the twenty-three years I’d lived here, he certainly hadn’t stopped aging.
He and my grandmother, Becky, were in their eighties now. Time was passing faster than I would have liked, and it was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t be able to seek him out for his guidance or stop by their house to con my grandma into sneaking me some of whatever she’d baked that day.
I pushed that unhappy thought from my mind. There wasn’t enough room for it among all the other unpleasantness already swimming around in there. “Figured it would be you who found me.”
His body creaked and he let out a handful of grunts as he joined me on the ground, stretching his long legs out beside mine. I would have argued that he didn’t need to sit on the hard, unforgiving ground if I thought for a second it would have done any damn good, but the man was almost as stubborn as his daughter, the very woman who’d fought tooth and nail for me, going head-to-head with anyone who attempted to stand in her way. I learned a long time ago not to bother arguing with the people who’d chosen me to be a part of their family. There was no winning. Not that I minded one damn bit.
“Mom send you out here to bring me back?”