Page 52 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

Moments later, the bottle I’d brutalized was replaced with a fresh one. My limp fingers mechanically curled around it.

A hand wrapped around my shoulder gently. It squeezed, bringing me momentarily to life.

“Go home and rest, Miss Shaw. Elmhurst will call, but everything is already sorted. You don’t need to worry about a thing.” Her words should be comforting, but instead the word ‘home’ made tears prick my eyes and tremors begin to shake my body.

“Okay,” I breathed out, voice nearly a whisper, first tears slipping down my cheeks.

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” the coordinator said, pushing a box of tissues toward me.

I wasn’t crying.

No, I am crying.

I sat motionless, hands squeezing the firm, cold bottle. When I didn’t accept the tissues, she pulled the box back with an awkward grimace. “Please let us know if there’s any way we can help you navigate this difficult time.”

That was a dismissal. Professional, but firm.

“Okay.” Again, it was all I could force my mouth to say.

Pushing myself out of the seat, gravity feeling stronger than it should, I shuffled out of the office.

I should have gone to see Grandmother, but I couldn’t face her right now. Couldn’t deal with the fact she likely wouldn’t know me. I’d lost them both.I’d lost them both!

In a daze, I made my way out of the care facility and toward the newer Subaru that I’d literally just traded the old Honda in for twenty-four hours prior. Yesterday, I’d visited my grandparents in the morning, and even though Grandmother hadn’t recognized me again, the fact Grandpa looked so wonderful and alive made me feel like things might start getting better in my life.I figured, why wait?The Imperial severance was already in the bank; I’d have even more money from the house sale soon. No time like the present.

I’d felt confident, bloated with hope. So, I’d beelined to a local lot after leaving Serenity.

Despite my desire to rub it in his face, I hadn’t gone back to that dismissive car salesman. Maybe because I didn’t want to drop top dollar on something new. I wanted something reasonable. That would probably reinforce the way he’d treated me before, like I didn’t have much worth to him. I didn’t know why his opinion bothered me so much. Maybe because I was tired of feeling my value plummet. As a dancer. As a beloved granddaughter. As an Omega with something to offer the world other than pups.

Going to the small dealership outside town was meant-to-be though. Almost immediately, I'd spotted the wagon in bright red on the lot. It wasn’t new, but new to me. I’d paid in cash; I hadn’t even haggled the price.

Because why wait. No time like the present.

For a moment, I'd felt less angry, less depressed, less broken. For a moment, I thought Grandpa would beat the cancer, because,God, he looked so alive again.I’d stay in Tacoma. I’d drive my bright red wagon around the city, dropping off resumes wherever possible. I’d get a job. Soon, my new life would beginto blossom. The only sore spot would be the house was already gone. I couldn’t get it back. But that was okay. It wasn’t such a world-ending bomb anymore.

What a fickle fuckingthing hope can be!

How goddamn tenuous and easily snapped!

When I parkedat the hotel, I couldn’t recall any details of the short drive. My body and mind had done that dangerous auto-pilot thing, getting me there safely somehow. As soon as I stepped back into the hotel suite, I began packing my belongings. In a few days, Grandpa would be buried beneath the ground. Grandmother was already buried in her broken mind.

I wanted to leave Tacoma as soon as possible.

No, I had to leave.

Four days after Grandpa’s death...

[Eight months & twenty-five days ago]

The cemetery wassilent except for the whisper of wind through nearby trees. I stood at the edge of the freshly dug grave, its dark soil piled high next to the yawning hole. The funeral had been over for nearly an hour, but I couldn't move a muscle. I felt stuck, glued to the spot, as if I was the headstone instead of theone being fabricated somewhere with Grandpa’s name chiseled into the rocky surface.

It was the fourth day after Grandpa’s death instead of the third, the earliest they could arrange the burial, but it still felt impossible. I stared at the simple ground marker—temporary until the real headstone arrived—and tried to reconcile the simple coffin blinking up at me from the rectangular hole in the ground with the vibrant man who’d always been my rock, who’d built me a ballet barre in my bedroom, who’d sold his prize coins to put me through dance school.

The service had been achingly small—just me and a handful of staff from Serenity House. Nurse Shay had come, wearing a dark dress instead of her usual scrubs. The chaplain who visited Serenity House weekly had conducted the service, though Grandpa had never been particularly religious. There'd been no one else to call. Most of my grandparents' friends had died already or moved away. I'd managed to track down an old neighbor. They’d sent flowers but couldn't attend. How could someone as wonderful as my grandpa have so few people here to say goodbye?

I’d thought about calling my Imperial friends…

But not one of them had reached out to me in these months I’d struggled.