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Chapter Nine

Sarah

I’m starting a new job today, and I’ve started so many new jobs that you would think at this point it wouldn’t make me nervous. But everything feels high stakes because I feel like I’m a representative of Dallas, and all the things that he’s vouched for.

Because he said that I was going to be good at this, so I really hope that I am.

I don’t have a car, so he drops me off in front of the store in the morning, promising to pick me up in the afternoon.

I feel clingy.

Like a kid getting dropped off at her first day of kindergarten, though honestly, I always loved it when whatever adult was in charge of me dropped me off somewhere. A few hours of freedom away from whatever dysfunctional situation I was in? Yay!

This is different. But I guess it’s like a normal kid might’ve felt in those circumstances.

“What if I screw this up?”

He smiles, and that smile tugs at something inside me.

He’s just so… This past week has been the happiest in recent memory.

Really, since I had him in my life before.

I have forced him to watch the entire Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and he didn’t even really complain.

He complained more when I would make him watch it when we were kids.

He has a comfy couch and popcorn. My room is cute, and his family is wonderful. His sisters are the sweetest things.

That I’m happy is actually the thing making me nervous, I think.

Because I don’t really know how to deal with happiness. There’s always an end to it. At least in my experience. Flashes of joy like this are always too brief.

“You won’t screw it up. Even if you do, I’ll be on your side.”

I get out of the car, making an exasperated sound. “That’s not helpful.”

“Sorry. I can’t be endlessly sage. I’m going riding with my dad. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” I say, closing the door behind me and standing there on the sidewalk, looking at the cute, red building, gathering up my courage to go inside.

As soon as I walk in, there’s a feeling of calm.

The whole environment of the store is tranquil.

But I know immediately that a big part of that is Sammy herself.

She comes in from the back, a dreamy expression on her face.

“Good morning,” she says. “I’m so excited to get started with your training. ”

“Oh. Good. I… I’m nervous.”

Sammy waves her hand. “You don’t have to be. There’s really no mistake you could possibly make that would make me throw you out the door. It would have to be malicious. And I don’t think you’re malicious. ”

I shake my head. “No. I’m not.”

“I didn’t think so. Everything is just basic retail stuff. Have you done retail?”

“A few years ago. But it was auto parts, not fine jewelry.”

“Well. That is different. I think the only specialty thing you might need to know is that we do forever bracelets here. You use a micro welder to put them on. But we won’t start you off with that. I don’t do all that many of them.”

“What are they?”

“Jewelry that you always wear. I mean, you can get it taken off, but the idea is to wear it all the time. I have one,” she says, holding her wrist out. “With my husband and kids’ initials on it. I’ll be adding another little charm once this one is born.”

“Oh.”

Forever jewelry. It’s a weird concept to me, and one I can’t wrap my head around.

The idea of being so certain of your connections with people that you would get jewelry with their initials on it permanently anchored around your wrist is pretty wild to me.

Like tattoos, which I also don’t really understand.

Because nothing is permanent. Not a place, not a person.

The only thing that seems to be permanent is trauma.

What a hilarious realization.

I almost roll my eyes at myself, but don’t, because then Sammy will think I’m crazy, or rolling my eyes at her.

“So, how do you know Dallas?” Sammy asks, ushering me back behind the counter.

I worry a little bit about the answer, because I know that he doesn’t talk about his past as much as I do.

He doesn’t like to throw his trauma out there like poorly conceived self-defense, which I’m personally such a huge fan of .

“I… I don’t know how much you know about his life before he came here…”

“I know that he was in foster care.”

“Yes,” I say, relieved. “That’s where I know him from.”

Her face softens, but it’s not the kind of pity that I’m accustomed to seeing.

This is recognition. “Oh. Well, I’m sorry about that.

I’m also a member of the dysfunctional family club.

And my husband is a member of the orphaned club, so I have a lot of sympathy for anyone who grows up without stability as a kid. Regardless of the circumstances.”

“Oh,” I say. “Were you… In foster care?”

“No. I wish.” She pulls a face. “Sorry. That seems really insensitive.”

I laugh. Because no. It doesn’t. Not to me.

I get that it would to some people, but as difficult as that was, it was far better than being in my mother’s custody.

“No. I get it. The worst thing that happened to me was being sent back to live with my mother. After which she kind of dropped off the radar and kept me out of the system, and that wasn’t actually a good thing for me. ”

“Well, I understand that. I moved into a caravan on my parents’ property when I was a teenager.

I aggressively befriended my now husband, who lived on the ranch next door, and he was my…

well, he was my everything. My lifeline, my only connection to a family that was somewhat stable, and his family wasn’t exactly traditional. ”

I’m fascinated by Sammy. Obsessed with her, even. She’s so open and ethereal, funny and strange all at once.

While I do spend most of the day getting trained, it’s filled with interesting conversation.

She tells me all about how her husband raised his siblings and his cousins in a blended family after their parents died in a plane crash.

And how she weaseled her way into the family, finding it much happier than she found her own home.

There’s something so hopeful about it, about her. She’s settled and happy; she has a business and children.

I deliberately avoid thinking about her relationship with her husband, and how the connection that she always had with him reminds me of…

No . I push that aside.

Allison comes in midway through the day, a scowl on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Oh. Nothing. Just my… my it’s my stepbrother. It’s not a big deal.”

She doesn’t offer more information, and I don’t press. I sort of wonder if she wanted me to, if she wanted an excuse to talk about it, but I don’t play those kinds of social games. I’m not experienced enough with them. So, I just kind of have to take her at her word.

I still hope that I’ll become friends with her. That , I would like.

At lunchtime, the door to the shop opens, and I’m shocked when Colt walks in.

“Colt?”

“Sarah,” he says, grinning. “I thought we would run into each other at some point. Didn’t expect for it to be here.”

“Oh God,” Allison says. “What are you doing here?”

“Gentry asked me if I would bring you your lunch, you ungrateful varmint.”

Well. Clearly, their relationship isn’t a delightful, cordial one of a happy blended family. I pick that up from all the context clues.

I’m just so insightful .

“Why didn’t he do it himself?”

“He got called out to fight a fire.”

Her face immediately shifts to an expression of concern. “Oh.”

“It’s fine. He would let you know if there was anything dangerous.”

Colt leans on the display case, and Allison shoos him. “Don’t do that. You’ll leave an elbow print above the jewelry.”

“When did you start working here?” he asks me, ignoring Allison.

“It’s my first day,” I say.

“Well. That’s great. And how is living with Dallas?”

“Oh. Also great,” I say, and my face feels a little bit warm, in spite of everything.”

“My mom has a little rental cottage in town, if you ever want to live closer. If you ever need anything. Just let me know.”

Allison looks between the two of us, and I feel suddenly awkward. I can’t tell if Colt is trying to flirt with me. As part of my issues with certain social nuances, I have trouble figuring out if a man is actually interested in me when he’s normal and nice, and not a creep.

I’m used to five-alarm hair-raising experiences that make me want to shoot a man in the chest rather than lean in. That’s not this. But I’m also not entirely sure what to do with this.

“Here’s your lunch,” he says to Allison, passing it over the counter to her. “I’ve been told it’s a steak sandwich. You can chew on that instead of trying to gnaw my arm off for being nice.”

“You’re never nice,” she mutters .

“See you later,” he says to me, and walks out the door. Allison’s cheeks are vaguely pink.

“You know Colt?” she asks me.

“He’s friends with Dallas.”

“Yeah. My…Colt is my stepbrother. Our parents married each other when Colt was about sixteen. He’s the same age as my brother, Gentry. Gentry, Colt, and Dallas are Gold Valley’s own Three Cowboy Musketeers. Gentry doesn’t do the rodeo thing, though. He’s a wildland firefighter and a rancher.”

“Oh. That’s… cool.”

“Yeah. Except it scares me. But it’s still not as stupid as what Colt does.”

“Colt won. The last event. I was there.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh. Believe me. I know. He would never miss an opportunity to brag about an achievement.”

“You don’t like him?”

There I am again, so great with context clues.

“He’s arrogant. And kind of an asshole.”

That hasn’t been my experience of Colt, and I think that it’s interesting she thinks so. But maybe there’s something I’m not seeing.

“He’s being nicer to you because he thinks you’re cute,” she says.

I feel that in my solar plexus, and I’m not really sure why.

“Oh,” I mumble. “Well….”

She huffs. “Colt is nice when he likes women. But he’s a user.”

“A user?”

She huffs an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m trying to be delicate, he’s a slut.”

“Oh,” I say, laughing. “Don’t worry. I’m immune. ”

She laughs. “They all say that. I’m inoculated against him. I’ve known him my whole life, which has dimmed the charm somewhat.”

I don’t say anything, but part of me feels like that’s not strictly true. I file that information away, because one thing I’m not going to do is step on my new friend’s toes.

And I really think she might be my friend.