Chute Yeah (The Valentine Boys 3)

Mack snorted with laughter.

That was something he said to me quite a bit.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve told her that before. She doesn’t listen very well. You should see her trying to play poker.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward.

I crossed my arms and looked at the two men.

“What can I help you with?” I asked cautiously.

Banks tugged on Fern’s bridle.

“Your donkey keeps making its way to my land,” he said.

I gritted my teeth.

“Fern is an escape artist,” I said stiffly.

“You should probably pen her ass up before she gets hit,” he suggested.

I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed. “I’ve done everything short of tying her to a fence post. I don’t know what to do with her anymore.”

“You have a sound fence?” he asked.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Would you like to go check it out and confirm it for yourself?”

This was the fourth time she’d gotten out, and the fourth time that she’d made her way to the Valentine land.

Look at me being all nice and shit.

I should get an award or something.

I mean, it wasn’t every day that I managed to control my temper when it came to Banks Valentine.

I’m sure that it’d only take a few minutes with him for that to become a long ago memory, but for the time being, I could play nice.

“Sure,” Banks said. “I’d like to see it. Have you checked the entire fence?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “I’ve even walked it several times. I lock the gate even with a padlock. There’s literally no way for her to be getting out but by jumping the fence itself… which I don’t think she’s doing. Yet, every time she’s out, I always find a new way that she’s gotten out. It’s getting frustrating.”

I didn’t know why I was telling him all of this. Most likely it was due to the fact that I didn’t want his judgment.

I knew that he was silently judging me, though.

I also knew that he thought I was an inept animal owner.

But seriously, I couldn’t help it.

I’d literally done everything correctly.

And I wanted him to see that.

“Have you ever closed the gate in front of her?” he asked curiously.

I thought about that for a moment as I led Fern back to her pen and then shrugged. “I suppose. I mean, she’s probably watched me put her into her pen quite a few times. Because the fucker always gets out.”

Banks made a humming sound, and I was about to tell him that it didn’t matter if she’d seen me close the gate or not because I had a lock, when he came to a sudden halt.

“You have fainting goats.”

I did.

What did that matter?

“Fainting goats used to be my mother’s favorite,” he murmured softly and picked up his walking once again.

I felt something in the pit of my stomach sink, but I wouldn’t be allowing myself to have any sympathy for the man—even if he did deserve it.

And boy did he deserve it.

My worst night had also been his worst night, and his worst night ever trumped mine a thousand-fold.

See, where I’d only been violated—and I say only because holy shit, Banks’ trouble was way worse—Banks had been shot. He’d also seen all of his siblings shot. His mother. And then he’d nearly been set on fire.

After his father had done all the shooting and killing he planned on doing, he’d set fire to the house, hoping to burn everyone and everything with him. Then, he’d shot himself while the rest of the children that’d survived being shot watched.

It was awful.

When I’d heard about it, I’d cried.

I’d cried so hard that they’d put me on even more meds than the ones I’d been on.

When I’d worked up the courage to see him, he’d been transferred to a different hospital altogether. When I’d looked for him after I’d gotten out of my psych hold, he’d been sent to parts unknown.

I hadn’t looked for him.

And, when he’d showed up years later, a completely changed man, I still hadn’t apologized to him.

“What’s the combination?” Banks asked, jolting me out of my inner thoughts.

I was glad. I hated going back to that time.

“The combination is on the back,” I said. “I always forget it, so I had to write it down.”

Banks looked at me sharply. “Can you see the pen from your house?”

I shook my head. “No. Not really. I can see one corner of it, but not the majority. That’s why when she goes missing it takes me a second to realize she’s gone.”

“You should probably get a new lock,” he suggested. “One with a key. One that can’t be opened by any random Joe that walks by the pen.”

“Who would let a donkey out?” I asked curiously. “That’s stupid.”

Banks shrugged. “I used to do a lot of dumb shit when I was a teenager. Tip cows. Dump over porta-potties. Letting a donkey out of a pen is new to me, but I wouldn’t have said no if my friends had put me up to it.”