Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Not really.” We were due in Durango for a veterans’ support meeting, and the last thing I wanted was a family inquisition. “I mean, I’ll need to talk to Colt eventually.”
“Told you.” Carson nudged my shoulder. “He’s not pissed.”
I’d picked Carson up for dinner Wednesday night, but Colt had been out on sheriff business. Carson claimed their conversation earlier in the week had gone fine, but I wasn’t sure we had the same definition of fine.
“His stare out the window said otherwise.”
“That’s his happy face,” Carson deadpanned.
“I suppose.” I sighed as I put the truck in Drive and headed toward the main road.
“How’s Lucky?” Carson stretched in his seat, getting as comfortable as Lucky was at my house. “Mad about not coming?”
“A bit miffed.” I smiled sheepishly.
The week had passed without an owner coming forth to claim him or me listing him on the various rescue group sites. Instead, I’d enlisted Carson’s help to fashion a dog run next to the garden on Wednesday. Lucky had also been my ride-along on those calls where I thought I could get away with bringing him. Far easier to have a dog than I’d let myself believe.
Now, if only I could apply that same epiphany to my relationship with Carson. This didn’t have to be so hard, but my brain refused to agree.
“Are you sure you want to do the support group tonight?” I asked as we reached the intersection where we could turn either toward Durango or my place. “I’d be okay skipping for a chance to stay in or go on an actual date.”
I didn’t precisely know what couples did on dates these days, but I assumed it was more than a support group meeting and the same burger place we always frequented.
“I’m sure.” Carson pursed his mouth. “Worried about folks knowing?”
“About us? Of course not.” It was a reasonable ask, given how concerned I was about Colt’s reaction, but I didn’t want Carson thinking I wanted to hide from the world. “I haven’t made a secret about being pan in years.”
“Also haven’t dated a guy.”
“True.” I couldn’t argue with his point. I hadn’t dated much of anyone beyond my string of friends with benefits back in vet school. “But let people think what they are going to think. I’m not nervous.”
“Liar.” Carson gave me a pointed look as the countryside sped by outside. The days were already getting a little shorter as we crept more into fall.
“It’s not about being public.” I worried the edge of my lip with my teeth. No surprise that Carson had noticed I’d been unsettled much of the week. “I keep feeling like I’m about to fuck this thing up. I hated canceling last night.”
We’d been planning Friday night dinner and a movie at my place, but a freak rodeo horse training accident upended all those plans.
“Emergencies happen.” Carson shrugged, not nearly as put out as I was. “Part of being a vet.”
“It is. I always used to feel so sorry for my mom when she’d have dinner waiting, but Dad would be out on one call or another.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t want that same fate for you.”
“Were they that miserable?” Carson sounded more curious than skeptical.
“No. They weren’t the most demonstrative, but they loved each other.” I did well not to trip all over the L-word there. Carson and I weren’t anywhere close to that word. However, it certainly applied to my folks, who had been nothing if not committed to each other. “Mom never complained beyond looking sad when Dad had to skip a meal or event.”
“Maybe she just missed him?” Carson suggested gently.
“Maybe.” My noncommittal tone earned a frustrated noise from Carson.
“You need to trust me.”
“I do.” I could be more earnest now because there were few people I trusted more than Carson. If he gave his word on something, I knew he’d follow through.
“I know what I signed up for.” The words were Carson’s, but I also heard an echo of my mom’s voice from long ago, telling some friend or another that this was the life of being married to a vet. Maybe Carson had a point, and she wasn’t as unhappy as I’d assumed. Carson’s voice went from firm to deceptively casual. “Could always take me along.”
“I don’t want to impose,” I hedged. The early evening sky above the desert was the palest of blues with nary a breeze to distract me from this conversation.
“Impose. Please,” Carson pressed, putting a hand on my thigh.
“I’d rather our time together be fun, not work.” I mashed my lips together in a bid to keep my voice even. “I want you happy.”
“I am.” Carson groaned, his head thumping back against the seat. “Better question is why you can’t…” He paused, mouth working to catch up with his brain. “You can’t let yourself be happy.”