Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)

Sunlight streamed through the camper’s bedroom window, so bright I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

I lifted off my pillow and whipped the covers off my legs as I swung up to a seat. A yawn stretched my mouth as I rubbed both palms over my face. Then I stood, raising my arms until my hands pressed flat on the fifth wheel’s roof.

Damn, I’d slept hard. What time was it? The last time I’d crashed like that had been over Christmas break when I’d gone home to the ranch. I always slept better when I was in the middle of nowhere, without the noise from neighbors or traffic.

I shuffled into the kitchen, swiping my phone from the counter to turn it on.

Ten thirty. My stomach growled as I opened the fridge, taking out eggs and sausage. Except before I could get to work on cooking, my screen flooded with message notifications.

Voicemails from Halsey. Texts from Halsey.

And a text from Maverick.

dude call your girlfriend she’s freaking out and annoying the fuck outta me

“Shit,” I muttered.

I hit Halsey’s name and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hey.” She sniffled. “Sorry.”

I exhaled, leaning against the counter. “Hey.”

“Did you listen to my messages?”

“No.”

“Don’t. Please. I, um . . . just don’t.”

Which meant she’d said some stuff she couldn’t take back. It wasn’t the first time we’d gotten into a fight. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked me not to listen to her messages.

Other times, I’d deleted them. But maybe I needed to listen for a change. Maybe it was time to hear what she said in the heat of the moment.

“I’ll be back later and we can talk, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice trembled. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Me neither,” I murmured.

“I love you.”

I opened my mouth but couldn’t bring myself to say it back. Not anymore.

This was over. It wasn’t fair to either of us to drag this out any longer.

“I’ll come over when I get back to town, okay?”

“Don’t hang up,” she said.

“I’m hanging up.”

“No.” The sound of her crying was a gut punch.

“Halsey.”

“Rush,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to break up.”

Either she guessed that’s where I was at. Or she’d broken up with me on a voicemail message that I hadn’t listened to yet. “Later, all right?”

Another sniffle, then a clipped, “Fine.”

Frustration mixed with sadness. Yeah, that’s where I was at too.

Before I could say goodbye, she was gone.

I set the phone aside, my appetite gone, so I put the food back in the fridge and walked to the duffel bag on the table, rifling through it for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that didn’t smell like campfire smoke.

Maybe I’d take a hike this morning before breakfast. Maybe Faye would be up to tag along.

Faye.

My eyes flew to the far wall of the camper, like if I could see through the metal and siding I’d find her car parked outside.

Strange how I’d forgotten about her, but hadn’t, all at the same time.

I pulled on my boots and walked to the door. It opened with a pop, the metal stairs creaking as I stepped down to the dirt.

The air was cool this morning, fresh and clean as it filled my lungs.

I breathed it in as I stared at the space where Faye’s Explorer should have been parked.

The empty space.

Damn.