Chapter 18

“I’m drivin’ the van today, Jimmy.” Jake held his hand out for the keys.

“But Mr. Gilroy said–”

“Never mind about that. Darryl will find you somethin’ else to do. Go on, now.”

Jimmy slunk away with his hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped; the drive to the airport was a cushy four-hour journey away from the hard work at the ranch.

“You can sit upfront with me if you like, Miss Jamie.” Although most of the guests had a pretty good idea about the goings-on between Jamie and Jake, he still tried to act decorously around them. She smiled sweetly, her bloodshot eyes blinking back tears.

“Thank you, Jake,” she whispered as she settled into the van’s front seat.

As Jake drove down the long straight highway, the chatter of the other passengers died down; most were a bit tired from their week of ranching and not looking forward to their journeys home. Jake flipped the satellite radio on to a country station that blared out the chorus of a song by Kellie Pickler:

Jake had to blink away tears. Kellie was right; Jamie would be in his mind, probably for the rest of his life. These last seven days absolutely were the best days of his life. Nobody had ever gotten to him like Jamie did, really gotten their claws into him.

“Can you change the radio?” Jamie asked, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Sure,” he answered quickly, touching a button on the screen. An old-timey country song by Ray Price came on.

Heartache number one was when you left me

I never knew that I could hurt this way

“Jesus, sorry,” he hit another button and found the classic rock channel. Jake recognized that the song playing was actually titled The Breakup Song.

Jake hit another button and found the classical-music channel. He breathed a sigh of relief as some music by Franz Lizst filled the van. “I hope everyone is okay with this,” he announced. His tone and timbre made it clear that Jake was telling the riders what they’d be listening to and not giving them a choice. He looked over at Jamie and saw her looking straight ahead, her eyes unfocused. He spied a small wet spot on her left breast; then, it grew as a tear rolled off her cheek.

Why did I let it get this far? She’s really hurtin’, just like me. A sign flashed by: Bozeman 89. Jesus Christ, Jake, he scolded himself internally. Can’t you even manage to utter a single sentence? Something to soothe her?