Home > Round Up (Lost Creek Rodeo #1)(4)

Round Up (Lost Creek Rodeo #1)(4)
Author: Rebecca Connolly

She’d texted them both out of habit, the three of them being the caboose of their cousins and therefore closest, but she hadn’t expected …

Eyes swimming in tears, Talia sniffed and texted back. Perfect. See you soon. She dropped her phone into her bag and stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, the city feeling just as cold now as it had in January. At least it wasn’t snowing.

She hated the snow.

She shook the dark thought out of her mind, turning to head into the train station, swiping her card on the turnstile and pushing through. Fortunately, she could take the same line to get to the restaurant as she’d take to get home, and it would only be two stops early. Her car would still be at her home station, but it was easy enough to catch a cab or something.

Or she could walk.

Walking was good for her. Walking cleared her head. Walking was action.

Walking made her feel.

It had also helped her lose fifteen pounds in the last few months, but there were a lot of factors there.

Her timing was perfect, catching a train just a minute or so before it left the station, and she slid into an unoccupied seat. In the next moment, her headphones were in, and her audiobook was playing, safely giving the signal to any around her that she had no desire to talk to anyone. She didn’t even need to listen to the book, but it gave her mind something to focus on that was safer than music.

She’d gone through this book five times in a row now, and she still wasn’t sure what the plot was.

Either it was a terrible book, or she was a terrible listener.

Maybe both.

Leaning her head against the window and shutting her eyes, Talia exhaled heavily, the sound probably registering as a sigh to anyone around her. She’d done the research on this one day at three a.m., and she could safely say that exhaling without the emotion of relief, fatigue, sadness, or something of the sort was not a sigh.

Considering she felt nothing, she had not sighed.

Technically.

It was the strangest thing, going through the motions of life without feeling anything much. Life went on, but she wasn’t actively participating in it. Somehow, her heart still beat, her lungs still worked, and her brain sent signals all over her, all without her feeling any of it.

She’d had days and weeks of feeling every heartbeat, every contraction of her lungs, every impulse of every nerve, every sensation on every inch of skin. She’d felt everything with a hypersensitivity that had been agony, and the gravity of the earth had doubled.

None of that happened now, and when it left, so had the ability to feel anything.

The tears at seeing her cousins text so quickly had been the first burst of emotion in a week. Which was better than last week, so at least she was improving.

Her mom would like that.

Talia had begun to drift off to light sleep when the PA system announced, “Next stop, Bathurst. Next stop, Bathurst.”

Blinking, Talia sat up and pushed to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she moved out into the aisle and made her way down to the doors, the motion of the train swaying her into a couple of empty seats.

She didn’t need to hold onto anything as the train slowed, then jerked to a stop, the motion of it all second nature to her after years of daily commutes on the train. There was always a small thrill of pride in being able to do so, some strange victory in not needing assistance to maintain her balance.

There was some irony in that, but she didn’t have the energy to address it.

The Bathurst train station was small, like most of the stations in the suburbs along this line, and she passed through it easily, moving out to the street and opting to walk to the restaurant. It was only a few blocks, and she knew the way well.

It had been a favorite location of the cousins for years, which was probably why Clint had suggested it. They had never gone anywhere else for breakfast food, and certainly not for pancakes, which they unanimously agreed were best at Turnberry’s. It was still the greatest small, family-owned, diner-inspired place ever, cheap on the menu but generous in portions, and most of them could afford nicer places, but they didn’t care.

There would only be Turnberry’s.

Talia rubbed her arms, feeling the cold almost as much now as she had downtown, and quickened her step. She paused at a crosswalk, looking up and down the street, then hustled across, glancing up at the restaurant at the next corner.

For all the joyful memories she had of the place, the sight of it didn’t fill her with any of them. She simply wanted to be inside where it was warmer, eat some of the best comfort food she could think of, and hug her favorite cousins. She couldn’t even say if any of that would make her feel better, but she did know one thing.

She did not want to be alone at home with a microwave dinner again.

She was pretty sure she was out of those, anyway.

A couple exited the building, their arms linked in a cute familiarity, and met her eyes with the warm smiles usually exchanged by people who appreciated the same place. The elderly gentleman turned to hold the door for her, tipping the brim of his tweed flat cap as she neared him.

“Thanks,” she murmured, managing a weak smile as she went past.

He returned her smile easily. “Have a good night, ma’am.”

Part of her wanted to watch him and his wife walk away, wondering if they would keep their arms linked or shift to holding hands, if they would talk quietly or enjoy the silence, if they would be cuddly or formal.

But the rest of her just wanted to ignore it all, avoid human interaction, and pretend nothing remotely adorable had happened.

Talia kept her eyes straight ahead, locking on the chipper teenager standing at the hostess podium, smiling too broadly. “Welcome to Turnberry’s! How many?”

It was all she could do to retort a question asking how many it looked like, but she swallowed back the spite and smiled blandly. “I think my party is already here.”

“Great!” came the response. “Have a look around, and if they aren’t, I’m happy to seat you!”

“Thanks.” Talia walked past, relaxing her face into her usual lack of emotion and looking for the familiar sight of two imposing, masculine, dark-haired men with bright blue eyes.

If she looked for people staring, she could probably find them.

Moving around the tempting display of desserts and baked goods, she entered the dining area on one side of the restaurant, glancing around the half-full room. She felt her lungs give way when she caught sight of the table in the back, where the very two men she was looking for sat, deep in conversation.

She swallowed hard, adjusting her purse and moving toward them. Grizz saw her first, as he was facing her, and his quick grin flashed amongst the dark scruff on the lower half of his face. Considering he was usually fully bearded while in season, seeing him like this was a change.

“There she is!” he called, though without much volume, and pushed back his chair to rise.

Clint, sitting across from him, did the same, grinning in the same crinkly-eyed way, fully clean shaven.

“Hey,” she murmured, going to Clint first and slipping her arms around him.

He nearly crushed her with the ferocity of his hug. “Hi, hon. It’s really good to see you.”

She smiled with some difficulty, oddly near tears as she patted his back. “You, too. What are you doing in town?”

Grizz chuckled at the question. “What do you think? He’s off right now, so he jetted up to wedding plan with Bree. Or listen to her plan, anyway—I don’t think he’s doing anything.”

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