Beneath Dark Skies (Rolling Hills Ranch #1)

25. Farron

TWENTY-FIVE

FARRON

WHEN SLEEP EVADES

Day 411

Sleep evades me as I lie in bed, my gaze fixed on the ceiling, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. I’ve been in this position for hours, the night moving by as I remain entirely still. Though last night’s potluck ended hours ago, my anxiety is ongoing. My mind is still a whirlwind, consumed by thoughts of those men now occupying my family home, my stomach sick with unease and resentment.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine a zombie apocalypse happening, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty over everything. It's a nightmare turned reality, and I find myself lost in its relentless grip.

I try not to let my thoughts wander down the darkest paths, knowing that Holden would be incensed if he came back to find me in the very state he helped pull me out of. But tonight, as I lie here in the quiet of my room, the unthinkable crosses my mind again, causing me to spiral. What if… what if Holden never returns? Even just the thought sends a chill down my spine, shattering the fragile illusion I’ve been clinging to for weeks now. Without him, and without my grandparents, who won't be here forever (despite my pathetic wishes otherwise), what will happen to me? Will I simply exist here, alone, a solitary figure with no one to ho ld on to?

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I grapple with my thoughts. I hastily wipe them away, refusing to let myself break tonight. I want to hold onto hope that Holden will be back, but the thoughts, once again, turn dark, thinking about other possibilities. I know what’s out there and what kind of people someone can run into. He could be held captive and hurt, and the thought fills me with a sense of dread.

But dwelling on these hypotheticals and going down a rabbit hole isn’t doing me any good. I force my thoughts away, redirecting my focus again to the three strangers sleeping in my family home. In my moment of emotional turmoil, rationality takes a backseat, and I decide to let myself embrace the raw intensity of my feelings, allowing my absurd anger at the three men and the potluck tonight to take over.

But I almost can’t even blame everyone—they make it difficult not to be drawn to them. Hell, I struggled so many times in the last day alone being around them, fighting that low flutter in my stomach. Kenji's dark and brooding demeanor shouldn't be attractive, but it is. His intense gaze and rugged exterior draw me in, no matter how big of an ass he is. Then there's Adrian, with his light-hearted charm and stunning physical appearance. It's impossible not to be captivated by him, especially with his warm skin tone, luscious curls, and piercing blue eyes. And Theo, something about him tugs at my heart every time I think of him or say his name. It's a sensation I can't quite explain, but it's there, lingering beneath the surface.

With a frustrated sigh, I realize that sleep won't come easily tonight. Even if it did, I know the chances of me waking to another nightmare are inevitable.

It's the middle of the night, but I need to clear my head. I slip a sweatshirt over my pajamas, tug on my boots, and pull a beanie over my curls to ward off the chilly night air. Magnum shoots me a disgruntled look as I disturb his sleep, but I reassure him with a kiss on the head before stepping out into the night. Walking under the starry sky seems the best way to quiet my mind.

I step out of the cottage, not bothering to lock the door, and begin to make my way around the main house. The soothing symphony of crickets fills the night air, their chirps blending in perfect harmony. Above, the stars shine brightly, unobscured by the absence of light pollution. It's a small silver lining to the chaos that has enveloped our world.

In the early days, when darkness threatened to suffocate me, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe, Holden would drag me outside to our spot, and I would lose myself in the endless expanse of the night sky, feeling like I was transported somewhere else. Most people feel insignificant and small when they look up into the cosmos, but I find solace in knowing that someone out there is gazing up at those same stars, sharing in the beauty of the universe. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, I’m not entirely alone. Suddenly, everything feels okay.

It’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

As I look at the night sky now, I send out a silent wish that Holden is out there somewhere, looking at the stars, too.

As I round the corner of the main house, I notice the porch light casting a warm glow across the wooden boards. My grandparents always leave it on, but my attention is drawn to the figure sitting in one of the rocking chairs at the far end of the porch. I freeze in my tracks, not expecting to encounter anyone else at this hour. With hesitant steps, I approach, my heart pounding as the floorboards creak and the person doesn’t turn around. What if something has happened? What if it's my Pa, and he's in trouble?

As I draw closer, I realize it's not Pa. Relief floods through me as I catch sight of Theo's dark skin and jet-black hair illuminated by the porch light. My fears dissipate, and my heart rate slowly evens out as I release a tense breath.

The rocking chair he occupies sits near the edge of the porch, so I make my way to his side, mindful not to startle him. Before I can announce my presence by making my way into his line of sight, he turns his head towards me, sensing my approach. His wide eyes soften at the sight of me, his glasses making the subtle movement even cuter, and I offer him a gentle smile in return. With a silent invitation, he gestures to the empty seat beside him, and I accept, sinking into the chair beside him.

As I settle into the chair beside Theo, I sense his gaze fixed on me. When I meet his eyes, I find him studying my appearance—my disheveled hair poking out from under the green beanie, the oversized sweatshirt, and baggy sweats tucked into cowboy boots. His scrutiny makes me feel oddly exposed as if he can see straight through me. There’s no way he finds me appealing right now; I look like a troll emerging from beneath a bridge.

“You must solve my riddles three if the other side you wish to see,” I quip in my head, causing me to release a quiet snort.

To my surprise, Theo reaches into his back pocket, producing a pen and paper. His action sends a flutter through me. He’s carrying that around with him in the middle of the night? Avoiding his gaze, I glance towards my right, hoping to conceal the emotions that surely betray me. A gentle tap on my arm draws my attention back to him. He extends the notepad towards me, silently inviting me to communicate.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, too much on my mind. You?” I jot down, passing the pad and pen back to him.

He returns the notepad, and I read his response. “No, Miss Mabel’s potluck hash is haunting me. She followed me around the whole time, trying to get me to try it.”

A chuckle escapes me at his note. Mabel's potluck hash is infamous among us and is probably the worst thing I’ve ever eaten. Even after weeks of hardship on the run, I'd still choose that over Mabel's concoctions any day. Despite diminished resources, we've managed to maintain decent meals here, but somehow Mabel manages to cook like shit, giving us culinary disasters every time. Her casserole remains served in the largest dish I’ve ever seen, despite the fact that no one reaches for it during the potlucks.

I glance at Theo, raising my eyebrows inquisitively about the casserole situation. He responds with a glare, followed by a resigned nod and shrug. I can't help but laugh; of course, he tried it.

As I reread Theo's comment about the potluck, I feel the anger I harbored towards all three of them begins to fizzle away. It's strange, but there’s something about Theo that has a way of calming me, of softening my edges. But before I can delve too deeply into the significance of that realization, I decide to change the subject.

“How’s your leg doing today? I know we didn’t get a chance to check on it,” I ask, mindful of his injury. Our monthly community potluck typically provides an opportunity for everyone in Rolling Hills to catch up and discuss important matters, so today had been too hectic to address Theo's leg.

Despite not actually needing to see him every day, I find myself wanting to. Something about his presence disrupts my routine in a way I find oddly comforting. And, begrudgingly, I’ll admit that I enjoy my time with him—Theo makes me feel at ease when I’m around him, and all of my worries seem to disappear, if only for a moment.

“It’s good, a little tender. I’m slowly adding some weight to my leg but taking it easy. You know you don’t have to check on me every day. I imagine you have far more important things to do here. ”

A surge of anger courses through me as I realize that even though there’s almost nothing as important as his well-being, Theo doesn’t see it that way. Though I still have other responsibilities and have to spend some time with Nessie each day, checking on Theo's leg is a priority for me. Why does he allow himself to feel like he’s not as important? Like he doesn’t matter?

I begin to see things more clearly through my anger at his comment. Maybe my frustration isn't solely directed at their presence here. But then, thoughts of the other two—so effortlessly ingratiating themselves with everyone—remind me that my anger still simmers beneath the surface. No matter how irrational my anger and frustration are at these men, I feel like I have to cling to it for Holden.