How ironic that he’d invested in the ranch because he wanted to get off the road. Instead, he’d be back on it more than he had been before.
“You don’t have to do this,” said Renie, cornering him in the kitchen.
“What’s that?”
“Be a martyr.”
Jace shook his head. “Here I thought you were comin’ to thank me for taking more on so Billy could be at home more often. Instead, you call me a martyr.”
“Good ol’ Jace. Nothing ever bothers him. Never flustered, never a hair out of place.”
“What are you gettin’ at? If you’ve got somethin’ to say, just say it. Quit with all the bullshit, Irene.”
“No one asked you to spend more time out on the road than everyone else.”
“No, no one did. I offered. It isn’t as though I have any reason—”
Renie put her fingers on his lips. “Quit feeling so damn sorry for yourself, Jace. If you want a reason to stay home, make it happen.”
Billy drove one rig, with the bulls. Jace drove the other, carrying the broncs. They were headed back to Montana, from Crested Butte, and hadn’t planned to stop in M
onument, until Bill Senior called his son and told him Bullet left the night before for Oklahoma. Some kind of emergency with one of his kids.
“Detour,” Billy told him when he called his cell—a word Jace hated.
They pulled into Billy’s place two hours later, unloaded the bulls into the various pens, and then took the broncs over to Billy’s parents’ place. Tucker met them there and helped them unload.
“Bree’s at the house,” Tucker told Jace when they finished.
“Does she know I’m here?”
“Wasn’t sure you’d want her to know.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Good call. Sorry I’ll miss seeing Cochran though.”
“Blythe said she’d bring him over when Bree left.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Jace—”
“Save it, Tuck. I’ve been on the road, I’m beat, and I don’t feel like listening to anything you’re about to say.”
When Jace turned around, Billy stood behind him. “Don’t start,” he barked at him. He walked away, but turned back around.
“It wasn’t so long ago that your lives were as shitty as mine is now. Just because you got what you wanted, and your lives are turnin’ out better than mine, doesn’t mean you get to lecture me. I won’t listen to either one of you. Got it?”
Billy walked away, shaking his head, but Tucker stood his ground. Jace could feel what he was thinking; he didn’t need to hear it.
“You’re right,” Tucker said instead.
Bree was in her second month of teaching at the academy, her second month of wondering what had possessed her to take this on. Everywhere she looked, she saw Zack. It wasn’t the cadets as much as it was the officers.
Every single one of them reminded her of Zack. Most of them knew who she was, and if they didn’t today, they’d know tomorrow. She could tell. The look on their faces changed as soon as they did. One day, they’d smile and say hello; the next, they’d say hello, they might even smile, but their eyes changed. They became clouded with pity.
Every morning, she dreaded making the eight-mile drive from Palmer Lake. She’d park, go to her office, teach, go back to her office, and drive home. Some days she’d stop at the cemetery and sit in the car. She didn’t get out. She didn’t walk over to Zack’s tombstone. She’d close her eyes and wish she was living a different life.
She’d think about the time she spent in Idaho, when she was trying so hard to mourn her dead husband. How ridiculous. All she would have had to do was come here. Every day, she walked around in a state of mourning. Every day, she was reminded of her profound loss.