Only With Me (Sugarland Creek #4)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Waylon

M ondays are always hectic, but they’re specifically exhausting when I have to drag myself out of bed in the middle of the night to pick up Wilder’s drunken ass and then go to work a couple hours later.

As planned, he left family supper right after dessert and met up with Gabby.

Turns out a twenty-one-year-old college student can hold her liquor as well as he can and they went toe-to-toe. They partied for hours at The Twisted Bull, and when it was near closing time, Rainy called me to get him. She has my number on speed dial at this point and knows not to let him drive.

Wilder has a lot of inner demons he’s still battling—ones I wish he’d seek help for—but I vowed to always be there for him no matter what. Loving him unconditionally means I bear the stormy seasons with him. Even though he can be a royal pain, especially when it’s during the most inconvenient times, I’ll never abandon him when he’s spiraling.

After all these years of masking and compartmentalizing, he’s good at it. You’d never guess he’s drowning in depression based on how he acts around everyone. Charismatic and funny, acting like he’s fine, but in reality, he’s using alcohol and sex to ignore the demons choking him from the inside out.

I feel them, too.

As his twin, I sense when things are bad and it’s why I don’t scold him the way I should. I worry if I do, it’ll make things worse by triggering him to not only cut but do it too deep again.

Thirteen years ago was the last time he was hospitalized, but since then, I’ve noticed fresh cuts on his thighs from time to time. Not deep enough to pass out but enough to see he was able to stop himself. Finding him bleeding out on the bathroom floor and then witnessing him seizing in the hospital was traumatic enough, and I never want either of us to experience it again.

I’d never felt my heart drop the way it did when I heard that machine beep like crazy and saw his lifeless eyes staring at me.

And that’s why I continue watching him like a hawk and being there the only way I know how—showing up and reminding him he’s loved. Even when he doesn’t want me to or want to hear it.

I can only hope it’s enough to get him through the hard days when he’s tempted to harm himself and then chooses not to.

Although we’ve found different ways of coping with our mental health, I understand him in a way no one else can, which is why I don’t get angry when he stumbles in two hours late for work.

Frustrated ? Definitely.

“How’s your head?” I ask, grabbing the rake.

“Feels like I slept in vise-grip pliers, but other than that, wonderful.”

“Great, then you won’t mind ridin’ out to the pasture and checkin’ the troughs.”

“Yeah, sure…” His eye twitches as if he can’t stand the idea of getting on a horse right now.

“ After you finish muckin’ your half of the stalls,” I add.

I may not scold him in so many words, but I’ll put his hungover ass to work.

Once my half is finished, I take a quick break to check my phone that’s been vibrating nonstop. A couple are from Landen, one from Noah, and several from the horse group chat.

I do a quick scroll through their conversation until my eyes land on a photo. It looks to be a girl’s arm showing off a nasty rash and freaking out because she doesn’t know what it is or where it came from.

Unknown #1: Guys, it itches so bad! Oh my God.

Unknown #2: Maybe you have an infection.

Unknown #3: Could be ringworm. Or a bad case of Eczema.

Unknown #1: OMG what is that? Am I gonna die?

Unknown #4: Kind of looks like Psoriasis. Though it could be a heat rash, too.

Unknown #3: You’re not gonna die. But you might wanna get it checked out. Ringworm’s contagious.

Unknown #1: CONTAGIOUS? This can’t be happening.

Jake: Can you send a close-up pic?

The girl does, a better one that reveals what it is.

Wilder and I had it when we were teenagers.

Waylon: That’s poison ivy, sweetheart. Don’t scratch it.

Unknown #1: Don’t scratch?! I’m about to peel off my skin.

Jake: He’s right. You must’ve rubbed up against it within the last twelve to twenty-four hours.

Unknown #1: Shit…I went riding yesterday and got lost so I walked through some brush to get us back on the path.

With it getting colder, it’s less common to be exposed to the plant but not impossible.

Jake: That’ll do it.

Waylon: Apply cool compresses and get some itch-relief cream.

Unknown #1: Thanks.

I feel bad because I know how awful it can be.

Wilder had this grand idea that we should play hide-and-seek in the dark and then the following day, we were covered nearly from head to toe.

Wilder and I take the first group of riders on their tour, and he, of course, chats up the cute girls and even grabs one of their numbers before we get back.

“How you haven’t knocked up someone by now, I’ll never understand,” I taunt when we bring the horses back to the barn.

“Pfft. I’m not going bareback. Ain’t that stupid.”

I chuckle at the irony. “Stupid enough to sleep around.”

“I don’t sleep with all of ’em! Just because we hang out or party doesn’t mean they’re all gettin’ a piece of me. Sometimes we just make out or fool around.”

“You mean, you get whiskey dick.”

“Fuck off, I do not!” He shoves me against one of the stalls and makes me lose my balance.

I bark out a laugh at how offended he sounds. “Chill, dude.”

After the saddles have been removed and put away, we brush the horses and then put them into the pasture to graze. Since we’ll use different horses for the afternoon riders, they’re done for the day.

“Lunch?” Wilder asks.

“I’ll go later. Noah asked me to swing by, so I’m gonna head over to the stables,” I tell him.

“Okay, see ya.”

Wilder and I go our separate ways, and I meet up with Noah at the training center.

“Hey.” I grab her attention and walk up to her with one of the boarders.

“Sorry to bother you, but I’m short-staffed with Ruby off, Landen’s off with Dad to get feed, and a client who was supposed to come and exercise her horse is out sick today, so I need a little help catchin’ up.”

Noah’s good at what she does, but she often runs on fumes trying to do it all, so I don’t mind helping her out when I can.

“Sure, just tell me whatcha need.”

“You’re the best.” She grins appreciatively. “Piper needs to be lunged and then you can keep her in the pasture for a half hour. Miss Swift and Lacie-Mae need to be moved to the west pasture, and then if you can tack Mac up for me so I can train her next, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure, but ya owe me one!” I taunt, walking toward the stables.

“Yeah, yeah!” she calls.

Piper’s a brown and white spotted Appaloosa who’s been here for the past four years. Noah’s been training her and Harlow, and from what I’ve seen, she’s a decent show horse.

It takes less than an hour to finish and once I get Piper back into her stall, Landen and Dad are back with the trailer of feed.

“Y’all wanna hand?” I ask, not bothering to remove my work gloves because I already know his answer.

“Yeah, it’ll help us get done faster,” Landen responds.

There’s only half of the bags left, which means they’ve already stopped at the retreat barn, and I doubt Wilder returned from lunch to help.

“Ellie gettin’ nervous yet?” I ask Landen while we haul bags inside the stables.

“More like an excited anxiousness…” he confirms. “She’s workin’ out like crazy to stay in shape and practicin’ as much as Ranger can handle it.”

“I can’t wait to watch her.”

Considering I’ve never been to the NFR or any rodeo event that big, I’m excited about the trip, especially since the whole family is going. Ayden, the stables manager, will stay behind with Ruby and they’ll make sure the other ranch hands stay on top of mucking stalls, feeding, and exercising the horses.

Since the event is ten days long and Ellie has to be there earlier for press, she and Landen are leaving the day after Thanksgiving with their trailer to drive Ranger across the country. The rest of us will fly out there to watch the final few days and hopefully see her win the championship.

When I get home later that evening, I scroll through more texts in the group chat and find an update from the girl with poison ivy.

She sends a photo of her upper chest and neck area that’s starting to turn red and form bumps. Then another photo of her arm looking worse than it did this morning.

Unknown #1: My mom got me some anti-itch cream but it’s not helping. I want to claw off my skin.

Unknown #2: Did you try soaking in a warm bath?

Unknown #1: Yes, with some oatmeal. It feels better when I’m in there but as soon as I get out, the unbearable itchiness returns.

Deciding to pitch in, I offer another solution.

Waylon: Do you have any baking soda?

Unknown #1: I think so. Probably. Why?

Waylon: Mix it with water to create a thick paste and apply it over the rash. It’ll absorb the excess moisture and help relieve the itching. Then once it dries, you can rinse it off.

Unknown #1: That sounds messy, but I’m willing to try anything at this point.

Waylon: You can do it a few times a day as long as it’s not making things worse.

Unknown #1: Thanks, I appreciate the tip!

Waylon: No problem. Good luck.

I should’ve asked her earlier what her name is, but now it feels almost too late. Or maybe it’d be awkward to ask only her in a group chat of several others I don’t know.

Once I’ve showered and had a bigger dinner than usual since I worked through lunch, I video call Bentley—my fifteen-year-old “little brother.” I joined the Big Brothers Big Sisters program last year after Landen got into training some 4-H Club kids. He said it gave him a purpose outside of being a rancher and that hit home for me. Outside of my family and work, I don’t have much that feels meaningful.

Getting to mentor someone, a kid I can be there for in any way he needs me and be an extra ear, has helped give me something to look forward to.

“Hey, man. How’s it goin’?” I ask when he picks up.

His hair’s wet like he just got out of the shower and he lifts one shoulder. “Fine, I guess.”

Bentley lives in the next town over, but we hang out a couple times a month on the weekends and sometimes video chat during the week. He loves coming to the ranch and getting on the horses. He didn’t know how to ride until I taught him and now he’s as comfortable as ever. I plan to teach him how to rope soon.

“Just fine?” I lean against the table that my laptop is on. “What’s the matter?”

Bentley had a rough childhood after his dad died, so I try to encourage him to talk it out instead of holding in his feelings. I have firsthand experience of what happens when you don’t and how it affects you into adulthood. However, he doesn’t always want to talk. I understand why because I can be the same way. But I always try to encourage him on his own terms.

Instead of answering, he looks down and shrugs. I know he has a hard time in school. He suffers from ADHD, so he struggles with comprehension and staying focused. He doesn’t like asking for help, though, so I always have to pry it out of him, question by question.

“You have homework tonight?” I ask, noticing he’s leaning over an open notebook.

“Yeah.”

“What’s the subject? Maybe I can help.”

I wasn’t an A student, but I did well for someone not interested in anything besides ranch life and girls.

“Geometry,” he replies, already sounding defeated.

“Alright, well, that doesn’t sound so bad. Tell me what you’re workin’ on and let’s figure it out.”

“It doesn’t even make sense,” he groans, rubbing his palm over his eye.

“It’s a good thing you have me and this handy thing called the internet,” I tease. “What’s the lesson you’re on?”

Bentley shrugs, leans back, and flips through his notebook. When he holds it up for me to look at his notes, I see what he’s currently studying.

“Pythagorean theorem, nice. First, let’s make sure you understand the formula and then we can figure out how to solve it. What’s your first question?”

Bentley shows me the problem and I write it down on a notepad so we can both work on it at the same time. It takes me a minute to remember since it’s been over fifteen years, but once we get going, it all clicks.

We go through about fifteen problems and by the end of them, his confidence is up.

“You know, there are websites that can help walk you through math problems like this, too. In case I’m not around or something. That way you ain’t strugglin’ on your own.”

“Yeah, but it’s easier when you explain it,” he says.

“It’s all about comprehension and practice. The more you do it, the better you’re gonna understand. But you know you can text or call me anytime. I’m always here to help with homework or listen.”

He nods. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Anytime.” I smile back at him. “Anything else goin’ on? You find a date for the holiday dance?”

When his cheeks turn red, I laugh and shove my notepad out of my way. “Alright, who did you ask?”

He rolls his eyes, clearly embarrassed. “I haven’t yet. I’m scared she’ll say no.”

“Who’d say no to you? You’re the best-lookin’ kid in your grade.”

“Pfft. You don’t even know what anyone else looks like.”

“Maybe not, but still, you’re a cool kid. I bet I could give you some advice on askin’ her out.”

“You?”

My mouth falls open at his hesitant tone. “What’s that mean?”

“You haven’t mentioned a girlfriend since I’ve known you.”

“Okay, so? I’ve been single for a bit, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. In fact, it means I know exactly what not to do to get a girl’s attention.”

“Uh-huh.” He crosses his arms. “So tell me, then. How do I get Hannah to go to the dance with me?”

“Hannah? Okay, we’ve got a name. What’re Hannah’s interests or hobbies?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Um, well…I think she likes horses because she has a couple notebooks covered with ’em.”

“Perfect, considerin’ you’re into that now too. Okay, what else?”

“Music. She plays in the band.”

“Nice. Do you know what instrument?”

“Saxophone.”

“Very cool. Sounds like you know enough about her to start up a conversation about stuff she’s interested in and you can mention how you learned to ride horses recently, too.”

“And how does that get her to go to the dance with me?”

“Well, you gotta be patient. You’re playin’ the long game if you wanna see her again after the dance. Have a few convos and make her laugh. Girls love guys who are funny and nice.”

“F unny and nice ? Oh my God, you sound like my grandpa.”

Furrowing my brows, I scowl. “Dude, I’m only thirty-two.”

“And single,” he reminds me.

“You act like I have one foot in the grave. I’m single by choice.”

“That sounds like somethin’ a single old man would say.”

“ Allllright …” I drawl. “Well, since I’m so old , I better get my old ass to bed.”

He snickers at my irritation, and I shake my head.

“Good job on your homework tonight. I’m proud of you.”

He lowers his gaze as if he’s not used to being told that, but I am. Even when frustrated, he didn’t give up.

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later,” he says.

“Yep. Night, Bentley.”

“See ya.”

We end the call, and I stretch my legs, then walk to my bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

Once I’m under the covers, I set my alarm and then check the group chat to see if that girl sent an update.

I’m curious if she tried the baking soda paste and if it worked.

But there’s nothing, just random messages from other people talking about other topics.

I don’t even know who this girl is.

But I can’t help being curious.