Page 84 of Will to Run

DELLA

After my day-long pity party, I get to work on detangling myself from Heart of Will Ranch. After begging the landlord of my new apartment to let me in immediately, and pairing my plea with a bit of financial incentive, she agrees. So, forty-eight hours after I hear the conversation, I’m paid in full for the long-term rental at the ranch and moving into my place right off of Millstone. Molly and Hazel help me, even though I don’t ask them to. Plus, they round up a handful of other barn workers, so everything goes remarkably fast with the muscle behind me. The first thing I do is set up my paint room in my new place. Seeing as I have just under six weeks left until my art show, I need to keep churning these out. Now that my nights are open and free, it’ll be even easier.

The fallout feels like someone reached inside my body and tore out my heart. Since Monday, I’ve been existing with a stiff upper lip during the day and crying to Quinn every night. Hazel, Molly, and Lanie have been over twice for a couple of drinks and just to hang out, and I realize how blessed I am to have fallen into their friendship.

I have seven workdays left at Heart of Will before the contract ends. Driven by equal parts hurt and stubbornness, I decide to finish out my meaningless obligation, and each day becomes a pendulum of emotion.

Even though he stopped coming in the morning weeks ago, since the split, he’s been there every morning, and I’ve caught him staring at me more than once.

It makes me rage.

And it makes me fucking crazy.

Because at night, when I’m left with my thoughts, even if I’m painting, I’m mourning and missing what we had. Not him, per se, but the feeling that lived in my heart and under my skin.

Okay. I’m lying. It’s him. I miss him. And I hate it.

But it works out, because then in the morning, any part of me that softened with the loss of him hardens right back up when I see his face and think about his audacity.

Not that I have any interest at all in entertaining anyone else, but even if I wanted to, one of my other girlfriends mentioned that no one would dare to make a move on me because it’d be like biting the hand that feeds you, so now I am untouchable on the ranch.

But most of the time, my soul is mourning a loss I’m not sure was ever truly real. It’d be easy to hide behind the sentiment that the reason I fell so hard is that he was my first taste of a great partner. And I’d be foolish to believe that didn’t play a role, but in my heart of hearts, I thought it was more.

By the time the weekend hits, things are looking up because Quinn surprises me with a visit. To see her face brings me the kind of comfort that only history can provide, and we have what could best be described as a college weekend. We lounge around during the day, eat questionable food, go to the bars at night, the tourist ones, not local, because I can’t chance seeing too many people I know… seeing him. It’s perfect for what I need. Though part of me wishes she had seen Jaxon and me together, because I’m desperate to hear an outside perspective that helps confirm I didn’t imagine everything.

Sunday is particularly hard after she leaves, but I still show up Monday morning for my last week at Heart of Will, ready to work. Of course, he’s here, and the two of us end up in the barn together. I’m sure it isn’t by chance. He works in a stall on the opposite side of the walkway, and he ends up talking.

“Was that Quinn who was here this weekend?”

I debate ignoring him, but I am better than that.

“Yup.” I hear him freeze because I’m sure he isn’t expecting a response at all.

“Did you guys have fun?”

“Yup,” I say back.

“What’d you do?”

I turn, and he’s at the stall door, looking at me. I need to think quickly because, yes, I answered him, but this proverbial door is staying closed. So I do something that I know will stop him in his tracks.

“Mr. Wills, just because I’m a step above giving you the silent treatment doesn’t mean I’m willing to actively engage in conversation either.”

“Don’t do that, Del,” his eyes plead with me. The look of hurt on his face guts me, but I'm hurting just as deeply. “Please talk to me.”

“Mr. Wills,” I say in the most saccharine and professional voice I have, “I need to get back to my contracted job. Is there anything of note you’d like to discuss regarding my work?”

The defeat on his face cuts me when he shakes his head.

“I’m sure you understand that I’d like to finish my tenure here under the most stringent of professional standards so as to make sure that no gestures or conversations become misconstrued into something they’re not.”

I’m not even sure where my professional jargon comes from. Some people have out-of-body experiences where they have, like, superhuman strength or super speed. Apparently, I have an out-of-body experience as a grizzled HR employee.

“Understood,” he says, and he slinks out. I’m not sure his shoulders or head could drop any lower, but I have to stay strong.

I blow through my day and retreat to my Millstone apartment as quickly as I can. While I’m enjoying a drink on my little back deck, I have an unannounced visitor.

“Hey Della!” Lanie waves from the bottom of my back stairs.