Page 4 of We Drank the Dawn

How was I supposed to just jump in and work? No one realized the amount of mental energy it took to do anything—let alone learn so many new spaces. Every step I took today would be a step into the unknown.

Nausea kicked the biscuits around my stomach.

Tag said I could find somewhere else to go. Quickly, I wracked my brain. Was that feasible? Where would I go? I could go to my parents’ home. Mom would welcome that, but Dad? I shuddered at the thought. I hadn’t meant to make enemies out of my family members, but a few of them were out for my blood. Funny how they all begged me to live sixteen years ago but now would strangle me themselves if given the chance.

Yeah, I wouldn’t be sharing a roof with my dad.

I had a few friends, but couch surfing when I already wanted to die of humiliation didn’t sound like a great move. I didn’t want to be in the way or make people feel like they had to take care of me. Not to mention, I doubted anyone would be giving me a ride. I’d have to travel, move, grocery shop, and do everything all by myself. That sounded as daunting as working the ranch.

Hollie revisited, announcing her presence with a hand on my shoulder. “Dishes go in the bin at the end of the table. Want some coffee to go?”

Considering my eyes stung with exhaustion, I agreed.

A few minutes later, with a paper cup burning the pads of my fingers, I was corralled into a truck with three cowboys who were way too peppy for five forty-five in the morning.

And Cooper cranked up his stupid music.

My hands were slick with sweat and my face itched with caked-on grime. My Rockies hat, backward, shielded my neck from the unrelenting sun, but my forearms burned—not so lucky. For the dozenth time, I wondered how the cowboys buoyed their spirits all day long.

Blindness aside, this work sucked.

But their banter had persisted for hours—teasing and goofing around as if they were on some kind of vacation, not breaking their backs picking up hundreds of hay bales.

The truck in front of us moved at walking speed, so that we could toss bales onto the huge trailer. For a majority of the day, I stood on it, stacking the bales while Cooper drove, but eventually we rotated. Now I walked, finding bales in the dark and tossing them. I’d pocketed my cane once I realized the bales were spaced about twenty to twenty-five paces apart.

Ignoring the micro-cuts all over my skin, I wrapped my hands around a bale’s cords, and lifted. Listening for the truck distance, I launched it high and far when I knew it would hit the trailer. A rewarding metallic thud let me know it did.

“So, Peter…” Cody talked around a wad of chew which only served to dramatize his drawl. Even though I’d gotten drunk with all these guys, I’d never had a real conversation with any of them. I guessed Cody to be in his mid-twenties, and honestly he seemed like the troublemaker around here. “What’d you do for a pay check before deciding to cowboy?”

Cooper, walking beside me, chuckled. “Decide doesn’t play a part here, Cody.”

“Ah, the big boss man’s making you work?” Cody asked.

Ignoring his last comment, I said, “I’m a CPA.”

“No way!” Cody hooted in laughter. “You’re a paper pusher?”

Certain he didn’t realize that “paper-pusher” actually meant clerical work, I just conceded with a roll of my eyes. “Sure.”

“How’s that back feeling?”

“Fine,” I lied, ignoring that my muscles were so tight they felt like they’d snap.

“And those hands?”

“Fine.”

“You’re bleeding, man.”

I bit out. “I said I’m fine.”

“You might not be fine.” Cody gave a low whistle. “But I’ll tell you what is fine.”

I didn’t give him any more attention because I didn’t care.

“That woman.” He swore.

My head snapped up, my blood pulsing hot in my veins.