“Like hell, you will. You’ve been trying to postpone me all damn day: taking too long to get to and from the doctor’s, throwing my shit in the washer, and now you’re getting rid of my cab!”
He walked over to my bag and grabbed it. He heaved it into the back of his truck and then slid into the driver’s side seat. I didn’t know what the hell his angle was, but I was tired of it. The more he acted this way, the more it showed me the truth of the conversation we had a few days ago that pissed him the fuck off.
The more I realized why I hadn’t originally told him about Paris.
He swung the passenger side door open for me, and I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have much of a choice now with my flight leaving in less than two hours, so I climbed into his truck, and he cranked it up. The silence between us hung heavy in the air the entire time, and all I wanted to do was melt directly into the chair. On the one hand, I could see how this would be hard for him. I could understand why he’d be so reluctant to drop me off at the airport with things sitting with us the way they were. The last time we were together-- really together--, he admitted that he’d never stopped loving me.
And I’d said those words in return.
But, the truth was you didn’t treat someone you loved like this. You didn’t storm out on an argument and then give them the cold shoulder for days. You didn’t try everything in your power to stop the inevitable from happening. Sure, he wanted to talk over lunch that day about making things work long distance. And sure, he didn’t even know what that long distance meant at the time… but dear God did he really expect me to do it now!?
We pulled into the airport parking lot, and I promptly got out. I was already trying to pull my bag out of the back just as he was stepping out of his truck, and he reached his arm easily over me and pulled it out without a problem.
“You takin’ home my gravel or somethin’?” Flynn quipped.
“Nope. Just trying to get home,” I sighed.
There was a heavy silence that hung between us, and I knew that statement hurt him. But dear god, Oklahoma hadn’t been home in five years. And honestly? There wasn’t really ever a point where it truly felt like home. Yeah, it was familiar, and yeah, I fell in love with my country boy while I was in college here, but Paris had welcomed me with open arms, forced me to grow up, and loved me even in my dirtiest of downfalls. It never once screamed at me without a good reason and it never once shooed away my taxis that I needed when I needed them the most.
“Well, hope ya have a good flight,” Flynn murmured.
“I’m sure I will.”
I grabbed my suitcase and wheeled myself into the airport, and that was that. I wanted him to be happy for me, I really did. I wanted him to be as excited about this as I was. I wanted him to understand that Paris was my dream and that I’d achieved my dream at twenty years old! I had been hired as a premier apprentice in Paris before I could even legally drink in the States! God, that was a hell of a shocker when I got to France. I could remember the first night I’d ever gotten slammed drunk. I was with a few other apprentices, and we were at this fancy wine bar spending half our first paychecks on glasses of wine I found out later we could’ve gotten in a grocery for 1/4th the price! We ended up dropping $800 between the five of us, and we all piled into a taxi van, and then we had an argument as to whose place was bigger so we could all crash and vomit in one place.
God, that was the best memory. And it’s a memory I wanted to share with Flynn.
But I couldn’t because he had licked his wounds for days, and now it was time for me to leave.
To go home.
I wished he could just be happy for me. Doesn’t he understand that this is why I didn’t tell him? My heart screamed out to have him there. I wanted him to walk with me up to security until they made him abandon me because he didn’t have a ticket. I wanted to stand in his arms until the very last second. I wanted him to force me to sprint across the airport because he had to have me in the back of his truck one last time before we parted ways.
Damn it, I just wanted him to be supportive. To love me the way he proclaimed and to be happy for me.
And he was just sulking in his truck.
I went and got my ticket before I checked my luggage onto the plane. The bag was way too stuffed to take on the plane with me, so I chucked out the extra money so I wouldn’t have to try and convince the stewardess that it would fit if I shoved hard enough. I sighed and turned around to take one last look at Oklahoma through the airport windows.
But instead, I saw Flynn standing there.
I watched him walk toward me, and I was rooted to my space. Someone shoved me out of the way so they could get to the desk and all Flynn did was reach his arm out to catch me.
“Hey,” he said sternly, “this woman’s just getting over a concussion. Have some decency.”
There he was.
There was my Flynn.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“This.”
He cloaked my back with his strong arms and crashed his lips onto mine. I couldn’t help but snake my arms around his neck, and a few people in line ended up clapping for us. His tongue raked across my lips, and I willingly parted them for him, and I felt tears rise to my eyes. I loved this man with everything I owned. My body was trembling like a twig in the wind, and his arms were holding me to his body as if I weighed absolutely nothing.
“I love you, Flynn. Please believe me,” I begged.
He broke the kiss and stood me on my feet, and when I fluttered my gaze up to his towering form, a tear slipped out and down my cheek. His hand came up to brush it away, and his eyes were so full of pain.
Pain and anguish and betrayal.
“Have a safe flight Chelsea,” he said.
And then I watched him turn his back and leave.
Chapter 19: Flynn
When I got back to the house, it was emptier than I thought it would be. The kiss at the airport solidified everything I had hoped for, yet feared. My mind was still reeling with our argument a few days before, and the shitty thing about it all was that she was right. I mean, I wasn’t gonna convince her to stay or anything, but I sure as hell couldn’t sit there and tell her that I wasn’t sad about her leaving me behind. I would’ve gone with her in a second if she’d of asked, but she didn’t. And deep down, as much as I hated to admit it, I don’t think I would be where I was today in my career had I followed her.
Still, I wouldn’t have stopped her. God, I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and bring her home. Jesus Christ, I would’ve done anything. I would’ve gotten on my knees and begged for another week, or told her to postpone the flight and I would’ve packed my bags to go with her. I didn’t have a lotta money, but I had enough to hire someone to take over the ranch while I was gone, and I could’ve flown back and forth!
I would’ve for her anyway.
I walked into the house, and it smelled like her. The walls sucked up her scent and was breathing it back out to me. That’s the thing about a house, it memorizes things. The way someone walks, or talks, or smells. It houses memories of the nights we spent buried in each other’s bodies, writhing in sweat underneath the moonlight. And when someone leaves, the house tries to right itself. It puffs out their breaths and memories and moans and smells, all in an effort to fill the void the house itself felt.
I wanted her there, in this home with me, but she was gone.
Again.
I went up to her room and slowly began to pick up. I made up her bed while the scent of her conditioner flew at my nose and I cleaned down the bathroom while the smell of her bath bubbles penetrated the air. I couldn’t look at that tub without seeing her sunk down onto my dick in it, and I couldn’t look in the mirror without seeing her there. The house was screaming out at me. It was infuriated at the fact that she wasn’t here… that I hadn’t brought her back from the airport.
“She’s gone, alright? And she ain’t comin’ back.”
I didn’t even know who t
he fuck I was talking to. All I knew was that it felt empty like the house was suddenly too big. Her body wasn’t where it should be, and her laughter didn’t fill the corners like it had been and her smile wasn’t dimming the lights with its watts of electricity.
Fuck, this was gonna be hard.
I went out to tend to my animals, and she was there, too. Every horse I tended to brought tears to my eyes. Dear Jesus, I almost lost her. The girl I fell in love with in college. The girl that was the muse for my rodeo career. The girl I’d built this entire fucking business for, just in case she came back and didn’t have anything to come home to. I built it all for her, and every time I looked at those horses hooves, it made me angry. Angry at that damn horse ranch for letting her ride and angry at that fucking horse for trampling her body and angry at that damn snake for biting her neck. Had it not been for that damn rodeo she showed up at, then she wouldn’t of gone seekin’ out my number. And if she didn’t go seekin’ out my number she wouldn’t have gone to that ranch. If she hadn’t of gone to that ranch, she wouldn’t of rode.
She would’ve been safe, she would’ve been healthy, and none of this past month would’ve occurred. I could’ve gone on livin’ alone in that massive house with my massive farm that I distracted myself with, and never once been privy to the loneliness I truly felt.
That was the thing about loneliness. When you got used to it, it didn’t hurt. But, when you experienced its opposite, the loneliness finally has something to compare itself to.
And it fucking hurt.
“Shit!” I roared out. I spooked the horses, and I heard the heifers in the barn begin to toss themselves up against the metal stalls, so I made my way over there to check on them. I walked in and noticed one of them was laying down in her stall, and it didn’t take me but a second to figure out what was happening. I ripped my phone out of my pocket and called the vet, and I told him it was time for one of them.
My heifer was about to give birth.
I went over to her and put her head on my lap, and by the way she was panting, I realized she’d probably been in labor for the majority of the morning. I felt around on her stomach and sighed with relief when I felt the calf moving around inside, but I knew that calf wasn’t gonna be alive much longer if that vet didn’t get her. She mooed out in her pain and nuzzled into my chest, and for the first time in years, I started crying with one of my animals.
Chelsea would’ve loved to have been here in this moment. She was always so attentive to animal’s needs, and I knew if she were here she’d know exactly what to do. I could feed ‘em and train ‘em and keep ‘em healthy, but I didn’t know shit about my female animals giving birth.
It was my downfall, but it was one of Chelsea’s strengths.
That was the thing about Chelsea and I, what I was shit in she was great at. And, what she was shit at I was wonderful in. When put together, we were one well-rounded human being who actually knew how to function, but apart we were just floating and stumbling around, trying to make the best of things.
Was that what Paris was like for her? Lots of stumbling?
“Alright, alright. I’m here,” the vet said pulling me from my thoughts.
“Thanks for comin’,” I murmured.
“Alright, lemme take a look.”
The vet got down onto her level and didn’t seem happy that she was laying down.
“You know when she lied down?” he asked.
“She was lyin’ down when I came in here.”
“Shit, alright.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Lyin’ down means she’s tired, and if she’s tired it means she’s probably been in labor all night.”
“God, I think I would’ve heard her if she had been mooin’ all night.”
“You’d be surprised. If the contractions were really far apart, the mooin’ she would’ve been doing would’ve sounded completely normal because she wouldn’t have been tired yet.”
“Shit,” I breathed.
I watched him pop on a glove that went all the way up to his shoulder before he spread Vaseline on himself. I bent over and pressed a kiss to my cow before he shoved his hand deep into her body, and it killed me to see the pain and fear wash over my animal’s eyes. She was so frightened, and I was so clueless, and I made a mental note to take some classes somewhere on how to deal with this next time.
How to be more prepared.
“Alright. I’m gonna have to intervene. Otherwise we’re gonna end up with a stillborn. Scoot me my bag.”
I jutted my leg out and scooted it towards him, and all I tried to do was keep her distracted. Sweat was rollin’ down my face, and she kept trying to kick the man with the intrusion in her body, but when I looked back up, I saw the calf’s back legs dangling on the ground.
“I’ve almost got it. Keep her still,” he grunted.
Before I knew it, a calf in a fluid sac came spilling out from my heifer, and she finally relaxed with relief. She panted onto my lap and her eyes slowly closed, and the vet got to work and getting the calf out of the sac.
“Keep that heifer awake. Alright?” he commanded.
I slowly tapped her face, but I couldn’t get her to open her eyes. I tapped a bit harder and saw them open for a split second, but they were glassy and unfocused.
“Doc, I think we got a problem,” I said lowly. I heard a tear before a large amount of fluid spilled around us, and the doctor was helping the calf onto its feet.
“Tap as hard as you can, but you gotta keep that momma awake!” he yelled.
I tapped harder and harder, but when her eyes closed, they didn’t open. Her breathing was short and labored, and tears rose to my eyes when I realized what was happening.
“Please don’t leave me, too,” I breathed.
“Come on, momma,” the vet purred, “you gotta stay alive and get this youngin’ fed.” The calf was slowly gaining its balance in the corner and looked to be the very essence of new life itself, but my tears fell onto my heifer’s face when I realized she wasn’t gonna wake up.
“Not you, too. Please,” I whispered.
I watched her breathing slowly come to a stop, and I felt like I was gonna vomit. Her teats were leaking milk that her calf needed desperately, almost like her body was trying to reach out one last time. I pried one of her eyes open in an attempt to find hope, to find something or someone that wasn’t gonna leave me today.
But all I was met with was an empty, glassy stare.
Just like my empty, glassy house.
“I’m so sorry, Flynn,” the vet murmured.
I slowly laid her head down onto the straw and sat back in the corner. My watery gaze panned up to the baby calf jumping around in the corner, and I heard one of my cows begin to moo up a storm in the barn.
“You got another momma in here producing milk?” he asked.
“They all do,” I breathed.
“Come here, little one,” the vet cooed. He led the stumbling calf out of the barn, and pretty soon the mooing cow stopped with her noises, and the suckling sounds of a hungry calf began to fill the barn.
“It’s a girl,” the vet came around the corner and smiled. But, all I could do was mindlessly pet the head of the dead cow lying beside me.
“I don’t know what your protocol is around here for your animals. You obviously loved her, and she obviously trusted you.”
“Yeah…” I trailed off.
I didn’t give a shit about the tears runnin’ down my face. I’d just taken Chelsea to the airport and left one of my beloved heifers to suffer in her labor, and now she was gone. I let go of one woman I loved only to come back and have another one leave me unwillingly.
“Flynn?” the vet called behind him.
“Yeah doc?” I called back.
“Quit mopin’ and go get her if ya love her so much.”
I sighed heavily while the doctor retreated from the barn, and I actually started turning the thought around in my head. I don’t know how long I s
at there, debating on whether or not to actually do it.
I’d left my heifer behind for something I thought I was supposed to do, and it ended up killing her. I’d sent Chelsea off and stayed behind for something I thought I was supposed to do, and the idea of that having some sort of traumatic effect on her made my head spin.
So, I took out my phone and placed a phone call to Bradley.
Chapter 20: Chelsea
I sat on my couch in my Paris apartment and stared at a blank television screen. I’d ordered myself some food from up the road and was patiently waiting for it to arrive while procrastinating altering the styles in all the ways my boss wanted me to. I wanted to bring a little bit of country chic to the streets of Paris ever since I’d gone home, so I plotted some fantastic designs that I thought would be absolutely beautiful in the store and on the runway. He didn’t seem the least bit impressed, mumbling shit about where my other designs were, but when he got to take a look at a few of them, he ended up jotting down some notes. He told me to make some of these changes and change up the colors a bit, then come back and talk to him.
Then he told me that if I didn’t want to wear my own designs, to not create them. I told him I would wear all the shit I drew any day of the week, and I guess he sort of took that as a challenge. He told me to make the edits and come back in, and we would make a few of the outfits to put on me.
Great.
I stared at the television before taking in all the red ink on my paper, and I realized that by the time I made all these changes the entire purpose of the outfits would be gone. I sighed and leaned back into the couch. Why the fuck did I have to bring this shit back with me to Paris!? I should’ve just cut shit off with Flynn at the airport when he kissed me and fucking came back a rejuvenated and healed woman ready to get to work on my own fashion show.
Now, I looked like a bumbling idiot who’d lost the whole of her memory in a fucking horse accident.
The thunderous knock roared out into my apartment, and I thanked my stars that food was here. Food always helped me to become creative, and maybe eating from that wonderful place down the street would help to get my creative juices flowing.
Baby Makes Three: A Brother's Best Friend's Secret Baby Romance Page 48
