Page 129

I need to take my own damn advice and lighten up. Maybe this time is meant to be enjoyed, plain and simple. Why do I need answers if I have Mollie in my bed every night?

Because the more you let her in, the more it’s gonna hurt when she goes.

Like I can help it.

Like I can stop falling harder for her each fucking day.

Only solution to that would be to get gone myself. But I can’t just up and leave. I don’t want to.

Leaving isn’t in my nature. But I’m not sure staying is in hers.

What the fuck do I do?

I ask myself that question for the thousandth time while I’m helping John B and Sally administer vaccinations to a handful of heifers on Friday afternoon. We’ve got a cow in the chute, head safely restrained in the neck extender. Sally is giving her a vaccination in her neck, smoothly and quickly inserting the gun-like multi-dose tool a few inches behind and below the heifer’s ear.

The heifer rattles the bars of the chute, but after a second or two, she calms right down.

“That’s a good girl,” Sally coos.

“So you give the same dose to every one of these cows.” Mollie glances at the cows lined up behind this one. “And you use the same needle and gun and everything.”

Eyes twinkling, Sally nods. “Yes, and yes. Obviously, we’ll change out the needle if it breaks or there’s an issue, but the whole point of the gun here”—she holds up the scary-lookingcontraption—“is to make things easier on everyone. Fewer needles means fewer chances of accidents happening, and you can set up the gun so each animal gets the same dose. The quicker we get this done, the quicker the cows can go back to doing their thing out in the pastures.”

John B straightens from examining the cow behind this one. “You wanna give it a try, Mollie?”

Because Mollie is clearly out to make me one heartsick motherfucker, she smiles and says, “If you think that’s all right, I’d love to. Here, I’ll go wash my hands.”

Sally waves her over after Mollie’s done at the nearby sink. “There’s a bit of an art to finding the right spot for the needle. But once you get that, we’re good to go.”

I release the heifer and line up the other in the neck extender so that the cow’s head is secured between two metal panels. Sally shows Mollie how to feel for the correct spot on the cow’s neck—away from bone and tendon—and together, they use their fingers to feel for the perfect “squishy” spot.

Instead of being grossed out, Mollie appears to be rapt. She takes the gun and lets Sally show her how to insert it at a 45-degree angle.

“You’re doing great,” Sally says. “Right there. You got it! Go, Mollie.”

Mollie’s face breaks out in a huge smile when she pulls the “trigger” and administers the vaccine. Again, the cow rustles for a bit, but then she calms down.

John B nods his head approvingly. “You didn’t flinch, Mollie. Well done.”

Handing the gun back to Sally, Mollie turns that smile on me. Holding up a hand, she walks over and says, “Yee-fucking-haw, y’all. I vaccinated my first cow!”

Heart beating a little too fast, I give Mollie the high five she’s looking for. Without thinking, I curl my fingers through hers and draw our palms flush. Her eyes go soft, and so does the stuff inside my chest.

We’re both covered in dirt and stink to high heaven. But I’m not sure she’s ever been more beautiful than she is right now. Lit up. Proud.

At home.

You belong here, cowgirl.

Hill Country is in her blood. And now Mollie Luck is in my blood, and I can’t imagine this place without her.

“You did good, Mollie.” My voice sounds different.

Glancing over Mollie’s shoulder, I see Sally and John B quickly look away. They were watching us. Can’t blame ’em—my girl and I are putting on a goddamn show.

I hear Mollie’s phone vibrating in her back pocket. She ignores it.

Clearing my throat, I try again. “Practice makes perfect. Do it again.”