Page 1 of We Drank the Dawn

MIDNIGHT

ONE

Peter

Present Day

Something slowly pulled me from the deep. I dug in my heels—unwilling to go, but the choice fell beyond my realm of control.

As always.

In that place between wakefulness and sleep, it was difficult to determine if my eyes were open. I had to lean into sensations—the slight burn, the fan blowing air against my eyelashes. What even woke me up? I couldn’t tell. I stopped setting an alarm months ago. Every dark hour bled together and destroyed my circadian rhythm.

I swallowed against my dry throat, suddenly aware of the dream I’d had. Of the way my body was wound—clammy skin, muscles tight with passion, labored breath.

Sarah.

For a few minutes, I forgot I was alone—the dream so vivid her scent lingered between the sheets. I sank further into the pillow, wishing I could force myself to fall back asleep and hold her again.

I locked my arms around my pillow and turned my face into the make-believe crook of her neck—exactly what I’d do if she were lying beside me.

When my eyes were closed, I could see her colors.

Red fire, blue ice, a dozen shades of brown.

But a hollow thud-thud-thud on the door of the fifth wheel jolted me out of my thoughts.

They’d been knocking for a while.

Groaning, I pulled the waffle-weave blanket over my head and draped my bicep over my ear. If I had the energy, I’d chew them out. But it’s not like they would’ve listened anyway. My jaw clenched with resentment at the sound.

“Peter, it’s Tag. We’re comin’ in if you don’t open the door.”

I knew what they wanted and they could march their good intentions straight to the pit of hell. I willed myself to fall back asleep and grab up one more precious second of peace before they ruined it for the rest of the day. But keys jangled, hinges creaked, and the fifth wheel dipped as my unwanted visitors filed in. I counted three sets of feet coming up the metallic steps and over the threshold.

“Peter.” Jesse’s voice this time. “Come on, man. We talked about this yesterday.”

With my head under the covers and my arms still locked around my pillow, I stuck a hand out and lifted a middle finger. Someone laughed.

Ugh. Cooper.

“You know we aren’t gonna leave until you comply.” Some people’s voices changed based on the situation—more animation when excited, put on accents when trying to be funny, and things like that. But not Tag’s. The soft, southern lilt in his voice persisted like a steady river. “You can’t stay in the fifth wheel anymore. You’re movin’ to the bunkhouse and workin’ with the cowboys or you’re leavin’ the ranch to find some other place to stay.”

A beat of silence fell over them as they waited for my response.

I didn’t respond, just pulled the pillow closer, tighter. After Sarah left, I hunkered down in the fifth wheel, unable to find a reason to leave as the last remaining flickers of light were snuffed out. The cold hard ground beneath my feet could only be rock bottom. Forget working, even drawing my next breath felt too hard, too heavy. Over and over, I had wondered if the nicest thing to do was gift Sarah with my million dollar life insurance payout.

Jesse spoke up again. “We’ll drag you out if we have to.”

“It’s time for breakfast, and you’re comin’.” A hand—Tag’s, I assumed—yanked the covers off my head. “Get up.”

My voice rumbled with first usage. “Can I have a few minutes?”

“You’ve had three days,” Jesse said. “We told you last night to set an alarm and be on time.”

“I can’t find my way.”

“Bullshit.” That was Cooper. “Yes, you can.”