Page 29 of Serious Cowboy
“Zeke?” At his name being called, he spun around, spotting Bryce coming down the stairs in some thick pajamas and a robe. “Couch not keeping you awake I hope.”
“No, your couch is quite comfy.”
Bryce opened the fridge hunting for something, then upon locating it, closed the door. He poured milk in a saucepan, tipped in a dash of cinnamon, and slowly began to heat the liquid over the gas burner. “Want some?”
Zeke waved his boss off. “It doesn’t always put me out, but usually, it makes me sleepy enough that once I lay down, I’ll nod off.”
“As a fellow insomniac, I can commiserate.”
“The older I get, the less I sleep. Dad’s the same, so I guess I inherited it,” Bryce explained, then let the conversation drift into nothingness. Yet Zeke lived in nothingness most of the time. The lack of speech didn’t disturb him like it did others.
Once the milk was steamy over the stove, his boss switched off the heat, poured the beverage into a coffee mug, and aimed hissock-clad feet for the stairs. The faint smell of the cinnamon reached Zeke’s nostrils, a cozy aroma. One that spoke of warm nights by a fire cuddled up with a loved one. He’d never known such nights himself.
The Duncans must have access to those experiences, though. What must that be like? Would Zeke himself ever get a chance to try an evening like that out, or had he decimated any opportunity he ever might’ve had?
“Bryce…” he started, then trailed off. Zeke had been about to ask him a very personal question about how he secured his relationship with his wife but thought better of it. “Never mind.”
“Sure I can’t grab you an extra pillow or something?” his boss paused long enough to play a good host.
“No, but thanks.” Then, Zeke changed his mind. “What’s it like to have your life together?”
It was a stupid question. One that revealed far too much about Zeke’s state of confusion right then. But Bryce surprised him with his answer.
“Once I get there, I’ll let you know.”
“But,” Zeke spluttered, if this man with his ranch and his wife and his family didn’t have things figured out then who did? “But you already do.”
“Some things, maybe. I love Lindsey and my family. I love being in charge of this property. But it’s a lot of work and responsibility. I’m under a lot of pressure to not mess it all up. To maintain the legacy established by my parents before me.” He jutted his chin toward his cup. “Hence my sleep remedy.”
“Well, you’re such a natural at it.”
“I’m not a natural. Not really. But I am able to lean on a lot of dependable people, many of whom are blood relatives. That helps. Support helps. And with that support I’m able to fake it till I make it.”
Bryce continued up the stairs, and Zeke mulled over his last statement. His boss had support, but did he? He had Tim, but that was it. And even in his friendship with Tim, he hadn’t allowed his buddy to offer him much. Zeke gave and gave of himself in small ways, but he had to admit to not being overly good at taking from other people.
The only person who he’d allowed to support him at all had been Callie, and recently, she’d thrown in the towel with him, too. But then again, he hadn’t exactly made up with her. Maybe it was high time he offered her an olive branch.
The only problem was that he had no idea how to do that.
What did he say? He had a feeling that, “Hey, I know I’ve been ignoring you for weeks, but I think I’m done with that now,” wouldn’t go over so well. He wished he could just pretend that their tremendously awkward evening hadn’t transpired, but he couldn’t. Zeke doubted she could, either. It’d been the catalyst that had led them to separate. Led him to separate from her.
He kind of stunk at making conversation on a good day, much less a bad one. It’d been a challenge just to meet Callie halfway. But she deserved better than what amounted to a cold shoulder.
Zeke jerked out his phone and stared at her last message again. Then, he clicked out a response and sent it before he could back out.
Zeke: Callie, I miss you. And I’m sorry, too.
He tried notto obsess over Callie returning his message, but he couldn’t help it. Is this what she’d been going through waiting for him to respond? If so, he’d been cruel to her. Absolutely cruel. Leaving her hanging like this was unacceptable. Even if, in his case, he deserved it.
The next day the blizzard passed, leaving a crystalline clear sky in its wake that morning. It was amazing how the weather at this time of year could switch on a dime like this. Zeke had put in his shift, marveling how the temps rose all the way into the fifties after being in the twenties the day before. The snow compacted down from melting, and he knew the roads should be passible now.
The skies had grown overcast again, but the plows had been active. So after putting in his hours, he jumped in his truck to head home. His gas gauge reminded him that he needed to go into town to fill up before the next day, so while at the station, he grabbed a quickie hot dog dinner, eating it as he drove.
Dusk came early due to the clouds overhead, and he had to turn on his headlights to scare away the shadows. It’d been above freezing all day long, but now the mercury dipped back below the thirty-degree mark. Zeke felt glad he’d slipped on his gloves with his coat before he left.
They didn’t make modern LCD bulbs to go in trucks this dated, so he’d stuck with the standard and not as bright incandescent ones. The only problem with that was he couldn’t see quite as far as modern vehicles, and call him a traditionalist, but he hadn’t wanted to disrupt the International’s aesthetic. He couldstill make out the most important features of this old country highway, though. And it helped that he’d driven it daily for months.
When a semi-truck came around one of the hairpin curves that led away from the ranch, making Zeke shove the tires on the right side of his pickup off the edge of the pavement, he nearly ended up in the ditch. The shoulder was nonexistent on this part of the country lane, and he felt his wheels grab a bit of the water saturated soil as he barely managed to right himself.