Page 93 of Josephine and Clay

It doesn’t feel that way anymore.

I reach for my phone before I can talk myself out of it.

Open the messages.

Clay: Been off the grid. Sorry. Had a bit of drama but all good… how about you?

No wonder she didn’t answer.

I type.

Delete.

Type again.

Clay: Today was unexpected.

I stare at it.

Too obvious.

Delete.

Clay: You were good with the calf.

I grimace. What is this, a performance review?

Delete.

I exhale hard and drop my head back against the chair.

Why is this harder than getting on a bull that actively wants to kill me?

Because this actually matters.

That thought hits out of nowhere, and I don’t like it.

I sit up again and try one more time.

Clay: Sorry if that was weird today. I didn’t handle it great.

I stare at the screen.

Yeah, that’s honest. More honest than I usually get. My thumb hovers, then I hit send before I can overthink it into nothing.

The message goes.

And just like that, I’m back to waiting. Again.

I toss the phone onto my chest and stare up at the sky, squinting against the sun.

Rusty shifts beside me, pressing closer.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”

Because I do. I know exactly what this is. I’m in deeper than I meant to be.

And this time, I don’t know how to ride my way out of it.