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west

M y stomach violently tried to protest my waking up, but I swallowed it down and forced myself to sit up.

“Fuck,” I groaned. To say I felt like crap was an understatement. The world swayed, and my head pounded. I definitely wasn’t fucking sober.

And I was on a couch.

Whose couch?

I frowned, trying hard to remember how the hell I got there. I couldn’t. I vaguely remembered leaving the ranch after Mickey dropped me off, but that was it.

Fuck.

Bleary-eyed, I glanced around for some kind of clue as to where the fuck I was. Besides on a really nice fucking couch. There was a chair to match and dark tables—one with a lamp on. I squinted at the picture on one table.

Double fuck.

It was of the Myles family. I was in Jackson’s fucking house. I couldn’t remember getting there, but I needed to get the hell out before he found out I was there. He’d fucking kill me .

I stood, pausing to gain my bearings as the room tipped sideways. When I was almost positive I could make it out, I did my best to stay quiet and get out. I managed not to run into anything, which was a plus, but I wasn’t too sure how well I did on shutting the door quietly.

The blast of cold air was soothing. My head tipped back, eyes sliding shut, as I took a moment to breathe it in. Nothing quite compared to the open air on the ranch. I’d holed up in a lot of places, but nothing anywhere beat this.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stumbled down the stairs and right into the dark. Fuck if I knew where I was going. I had a general idea where the fucking stables were but probably not enough to get me there.

Life was a crapshoot anyway, wasn’t it? Might as well see how I fared trekking in the dark.

I never quite made it back to the stables. Wasn’t sure where I ended up either. There were cows. Lots of fucking cows. Really damn cute ones too.

They frolicked. At least one did.

I sat my ass in the grass and didn’t move. I was so fucking tired. Tired of not sleeping. Of fighting. Of breathing.

I was tired of living.

And I didn’t know what else to do with myself, so I sat there, staring at cows. I zoned out, losing focus and just existing. Sometimes I saw them, sometimes the world was just a blur.

The sun rose.

The day started.

I didn’t fucking move.

Couldn’t, even if I wanted to.

I just sat there and zoned out on everything passing me by.

“West.”

I heard my name. Couldn’t tell who was saying it.

More was said but my brain didn’t comprehend shit. Oh well.

Something heavy wiggled its way into my lap and hot breath fanned across my face. I was startled right back into the world, my heart lurching violently into my chest. Eyes wide, I stared down at the thing demanding my attention.

A gorgeous long-haired collie stared right back with a giant smile on her pretty snout. Dogs I liked. Dogs were easier than people.

I buried my fingers in her thick scruff, and her tail beat against my calves happily.

“That’s Tess,” Mickey said somewhere out of view—not that I bothered looking. “She’s a right sweet girl. She’ll keep you company.”

As I petted her, she scooted closer until she was pressed tight against my chest. The pressure was welcome—grounding in a soothing kind of way. I moved my hands from her scruff down her back, folding over her as I did and burying my face in her neck. The smell of dirt and hay filled my lungs. There was a comfort in her that I couldn’t find anywhere else—except with the horses.

“Sorry,” I whispered, never looking up.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, boy,” Mickey replied.

That was a lie. We both knew that.