I didn’t know what to do, what to think. I drove home in a panicked hurry, as though Jacob could somehow chase after me in my speeding truck. The roads were so dry that the loose dirt and gravel kicked up to form dust clouds as my tires screeched over them.

When I got home, I hurried up the front steps and slammed the door behind me, shaking the house so violently that a few unpacked plates slipped off the kitchen counter and smashed into a million broken pieces on the floor. Normally, I would have hurried over to clean up my mess, but I didn’t give a shit.

Now that I’d signed those damned papers, this house no longer belonged to me. Jacob could worry about it now.

The first thing I needed to do was find a place to stay, and quick. I sat down at the kitchen table and started going through my phone’s contact list. It had been years since I had called anyone, so I wasn’t sure if it was still accurate or not.

I started at the very top of the list and made my way down, hoping — praying -– that somebody would be able to put me up for a few days. As I dialed the first number, I held my breath. A metallic voice sounded over the receiver.

I’m sorry. The number you have reached is not in service.

Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. My temples were pulsing, warning me of the terrible headache to come. I deleted the first number and tried the next. Once again, no answer.

I tried a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and a seventh number, all of which either went to voicemail or were disconnected. I tried leaving messages, disgusted by the sound of my own voice.

“Hey, Jerry, ol’ pal. This is Daniel Stanton, remember me? Listen, bud, I’m in a bit of tight spot right now. I’m looking for a place to crash for a bit until I can get back on my feet. I know it’s been years since we last spoke, but if you could give me a call back, I’d appreciate it.”

“Hi, Tricia, this is Daniel Stanton calling. We went to high school together? This is going to sound really out of the blue, but I’m in some trouble. Looking for a place to stay for a couple of days until I can get sorted. It’s a long story, but if you could call me, I’d be super grateful.”

I was physically shaking, so nervous and out of sorts that I wanted to hurl. This whole situation was so fucked. I was on the verge of tears when I finally reached the eighth phone number in my contact list.

Jack Stanton.

I inhaled, filling my lungs with air and held it there until it started to burn. When I exhaled, I mustered up as much courage as I could. Three ringtones played before my father picked up.

“Well, well, well,” he mused. I was already regretting this. “The prodigal son finally decides to give me a call, eh?”

I didn’t know where to start. Either way, I was in for a long conversation. “Hi,” I started warily. “I, er … I need help.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Jack, please, I–-”

“Let me guess, you need money? You’ve got some weird gay disease?”

“Dad, please, this is serious.”

“You know what’s serious?” he retorted. “Turning away from Jesus, that’s what’s serious. Whatever troubles you’re facing now are divine punishments, I tell you. This is what you get!”

“I need a place to stay,” I blurted out, my voice giving away just how desperate I was. “I lost the ranch, Jack. I lost my house. I don’t know what to do.”

Jack snorted derisively. “Why don’t you get your boyfriend Jacob to help?”

“Because he’s the one who bought out my property,” I explained, frustrated.

Jack whistled, amazed and amused. “I knew that prissy city dweller would be bad news. Now look where he’s gotten you.”

“Please,” I begged –- a new low for me. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Jack hummed to himself in thought. “Fine. I’ll have your mother clean up your old room. You can stay there.”

I sighed, relieved. “Thank you,” I mumbled.

“Need help moving your stuff? We still have that old storage shed in the backyard.”

“Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Okay, I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

I hung up the phone and rested my forehead against the cool wood of the kitchen table, doing my best to calm down. No doubt I was in for more trouble once Jack showed up, but at least I had a place to go tomorrow.

I felt disgustingly numb inside. It was just as well. I didn’t want to feel hurt, or worry, or be stressed anymore.

I didn’t know what my next step was going to be. I didn’t know what tomorrow had in store. I just wanted to forget all about Jacob and return to some semblance of normalcy.

Restless, I pulled on my coat and went outside, slipping on my work boots. Maybelle was in the enclosure, where I had left her to wander around. I leaned against the wooden fence, keeping my eye on her.

She trotted over to me after circling the perimeter twice, almost as if she could tell something was wrong. I reached out with the flat of my palm and gently stroked her muzzle. “Hey, girl,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry I can’t keep you.”

Maybelle whinnied in response, snorting at me as she shook her head. “I don’t know who’s going to buy you at auction, but I pray they’re good to you.” She flicked her tail back and forth, pawing at the muddy ground beneath her front hooves.

“We could still run away together,” I said, half-joking. “We could still live up in the mountains somewhere, if you’re up for it.”

I continued to stroke the horse’s muzzle, lost in the texture of her nose against the flat of my palm. As furious as I was at Jacob, I missed him. It felt like all my energy had been sapped from my body.

I’d thought that yelling at Jacob, confronting him, would make me feel better –- like some cathartic emotional therapy. But I felt worse. Maybe even worse than before.

If Maybelle had wanted to kick me in the head and knock me out, I would have happily accepted it and taken it as a mercy.