Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“That was me.” Wyatt’s finger moves to the feature in question. “Still can’t breathe right out of my left nostril.”
I laugh. “Only what you deserved.”
“That was a lot of blood.”
“So much blood. Dad was gagging, remember?”
“I remember Mom trying not to laugh at what a wuss he was.” My brother toes at the floorboards before crossing his ankles. “Why doesn’t Ava want to get married?”
“Short answer? Gender roles are bullshit. Oh, and her ex is a dick.”
“I gathered as much. Sally’s filled me in on some details.”
“Yeah?” I glance up at Wyatt. “What’d she tell you?”
He lifts a shoulder. “He’s just difficult to deal with I guess—cheap motherfucker. Doesn’t want to help her out more than he has to.”
The lid on my coffee pops off. I grab it just before it tumbles to the ground. Didn’t realize I’d been holding the damn cup so tight.
“I get why she’s not interested in being tied down again,” I say.
Wyatt leans in. “But you don’t wanna tie her down. You wanna treat her the way she deserves to be treated, right?”
“Of course I do. I’d cut off my hands before I ever intentionally hurt that woman. But she knows what she wants, and it ain’t a man like me.”
“See? That’s where you’re wrong. I think you’re exactly what she wants. Keep showin’ her that, and she just might change her mind.”
“She shouldn’t have to change her mind. I don’t want her to. Same as I hope she doesn’t expect me to compromise on what I want.”
Wyatt is quiet for a minute. “You know, a ring is just a ring. Don’t mean a thing on its own.”
“Easy for you to say.” I glance at his left hand. “You want one, and you’re about to get it.”
Sally and Wyatt set a date for May. They’ll be getting married in a big old tent on her parents’ property. Frisky Whiskey, her mom’s band, will be performing, and the bride and groom may or may not have plans to literally ride into the sunset on their horses.
“All I’m saying is that you gotta do some digging here, Sawyer. What is it about marriage that speaks to you? That feels right? Other than the ability to not have to use condoms.”
I chuckle despite myself. “Can you not be gross?”
“Sorry, no. But what about shit like … I don’t know, companionship? Trust? Having a real partner to help you shoulder life’s burdens? None of that requires a marriage license.”
“It does require you to commit to someone, and that’s exactly what Ava doesn’t want. You gotta admit, Wy, women get the short end of the stick a lot of the time in marriage. Dad worked hard on the ranch, but Mom worked harder at home. I mean, think about it. Her work literally never ended, even at night. It was twenty-four/seven, three sixty-five, for decades.”
Wyatt nods. “I hear you. You recognize how unfair that was, though, right? You’re not blind to it. That ex of hers is definitely blind to it. And maybe that’s what she wants to avoid. Not marriage, per se, but guys who go into relationships blind that way. You”—he gestures in my direction—“are not that guy. You can’t be. Not as a single dad raising his daughter practically on his own. You’re the mom, the dad, the wife, the husband. You’re doing it all, and you know how exhausting it is, and you see how unfair it’d be to put it all on one person’s shoulders. Because it is unfair, Sawyer.”
I wipe away the sudden moisture in my eyes. “It’s fucking brutal, man. I don’t blame Lizzie for being gone, but …” I let out a breath. “Hard not to feel resentful sometimes.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You care too much and are too damn smart to ever treat someone like shit. Lizzie is a case in point. She’s able to chase her dream because of you. Show Ava that. Let her show you that she cares too. Help each other out. It’s that simple. Keep doing that, and y’all won’t be able to keep your hands off each other.”
“How sexy,” I scoff, pressing my thumbs into my eye sockets, “the two of us trading, I don’t know, oatmeal recipes.”
“Bet that oatmeal will get you laid.”
“I do make a mean oatmeal.” I blink the blurriness from my eyes and straighten. “Christ, Wyatt, since when did you get … introspective?”
“I feel like I should be offended by that comment. I’m not, by the way. But I feel like I should be.”
“You’re just …” I look at my brother.
He’s about as scruffy and rough around the edges as I’ve seen him. Hair is too long. Tattoos, some of them new, peek out from the sleeves of his jacket.
But he also looks well rested. Well fed. He’s taking care of himself.