Page 171 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

Cooper gave him a sly smile. “If you’d say yes to Anthurium and Hydrangea, we could make Sagebrush real pretty,” he teased.

“Yeah, I’m an unreasonable asshole,” Wyatt shrugged, “Preventing you from growing more toxic shit that could kill the animals. Calcium oxalate and cyanide would be a fantastic addition to our little Larkspur issue.”

“Such a joy kill,” Cooper rolled his eyes. “Anyways, Levi was the boring one going the business route. If not, he could have taken Cutting Edge Eco-Farming with me for an easy ‘A’ and met Boone at the same time as me.”

“It was not an easy ‘A’,” Boone countered. “Math has no business butting into planting.”

Levi laughed at that. “Math is what gets you the seeds to do the planting.” He pushed his body closer to Boone’s, who repositioned his arm to hold his pack mate, and lover, tighter. For a moment, I thought about padding over to them and sitting on the other side of Boone. I wanted to insert myself into the circle of his embrace and be part of the warmth they must be feeling.

“Why would you have to do math in a farming class?” I asked, genuinely curious—and genuinely trying to quell my impulse to wedge myself between the sofa arm and Boone.

“Calculating Carbon footprints, planning out water systems using less material, that kind of stuff.” Cooper gazed at Boone now, his navy eyes glittered with silver as he recounted the memories. “The very first class, I saw him. This quiet guy, black hair braided and pulled over one shoulder. He sat in the back corner, so damn intense. When I sat next to him, I thought he was going to pick me up and toss me down the damn auditorium stairs. He looked angry as hell.”

“I wasn’t angry. I was nervous.” Boone’s warm voice thrummed through the air, whispering against me, making the impulse to be near him grow stronger.

“Yes, but I didn’t find that out until later,” Cooper winked.

I yanked myself from last night’s living room, unable to think of anything that might make them act this way. We’d all parted ways before midnight. We’d said goodnight, in that Waltons ‘Good night, John Boy’ way. And then… and then I was here, barely roused from sleep and faced with transparent unease veering towards disdain.

The kitchen was deathly quiet.

I tugged at the collar of the borrowed shirt, the state fair design long faded and cracked, and I fought for breath. My legs felt weak. I needed to sit. Slowly, I made my way back to the dining table. I sat down, but I suddenly felt so nonexistent that I couldn’t feel the chair. As if I’d become a ghost, I hovered above it. As if I’d become a ghost, no one could see me and no one could speak to me.

When I couldn’t stand dying while being alive, I abruptly stood. The men jumped slightly, as if they’d truly forgotten I existed, so my abrupt movement took them by surprise. Part of me wanted to race away from them. The other part of me wanted to scream.

“What the hell is wrong?” I demanded this time, voice shaking.

“Nothing,” Wade said too quickly. “Nothing’s wrong, Nelly. Everything’s fine.”

The falsehood fell against us, broken glass from a mirror that didn’t have the decency to begin full formed before busting.

“Liar,” I accused, glaring at him.

I locked gazes with Wyatt next, who was at least man enough to stare right back this time. Unnerving intensity surrounded him, his jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists atop thedining table. But he couldn’t hold the staring contest for long, eyes falling to stare at his hands.

The air in the kitchen was thick and noxious now, almost unbreathable. Our scents were warring, becoming a miasma of anxiety that clogged my throat and made my eyes water. I had to get the fuck out of here.

Harshly, I pushed my chair back towards the table, unable to bear their behavior any longer. The wooden legs scraped against the floor.

"Clearly something is wrong," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "But if none of you want to tell me what it is, fine. God,” I breathed out, tilting my face, staring at a spot on the ceiling that was stained into the shape of a bird.A goddamn bird! Why did it have to be a bird!“Was this the plan? Make me want to stay? Make me care about you? Then, just when I’m swayed, you reveal it was all bullshit?”

“Nelly, it’s not like that. We just?—”

“Shut up,” I didn’t let Levi finish, my words ice sickles ready to puncture where they fell. He’d just tell me something that was sensible. He’d pull out his emotional calculator, broken pencils, and flawless logic to explain why this was how things should be. That the equation always led to these moments in the kitchen, the final answer being the end of what might have been my live here at Sagebrush.

“I’m going outside. Don’t fucking follow me.” I hurried to the back door, yanking it open and pushing outside. Behind me, someone called out my name. I didn’t know who. I didn’t fucking care. I just ran, gulping in the fresh morning air like it was the only thing keeping me alive. I didn’t stop running until I was far away from the Alphas who’d suddenly, for some unknown reason, decided to treat me like a stranger.

My hands were shaking when I pulled open the barn door, it’s rusted hinges protesting like normal. Hoping I could hold thebrokenness at bay, I wrapped my arms around myself as I moved into the dusty, dim space I’d claimed not long ago.

I’d started dancing again here.Really dancing.Not next to a pole, not for cash stuffed into a G-string, not to regain a glimmer of that feeling I used to get when all eyes were on me as I commanded a stage. Here, I’d once again moved my body the way it was made to—gracefully spinning and leaping and creating living art.

A rising tide of a pain I’d hoped to never feel again—that cocktail of broken trust, feelings of worthlessness, and the brutality of being discarded—made me want to vomit.

Over the last few days, I’d stopped feeling so alone in life.

That sense of belonging was never real.

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