#syweston

character — @syweston

After months of harboring a gut wrenching truth, it had all finally been aired out to the woman who'd created the mess thirty-four years earlier. The anger in her eyes and the annoyance tethered into her tone, it had all stood as proof as the only thing she'd regretted was that he'd ever found out in the first place. He had waited for an apology, for some sense of empathy, but he'd only been met with more questions that at the time, he couldn't stand to answer. Broken and out of sorts, the construction worker had called off work and had sent a text to his younger brother letting him know that he wouldn't be dropping by for his morning errands. Instead, he'd reached out to Silas, the man's line of work being the kind of physical reprieve he needed. No bullshit, no coddling, just a day of hard work with no room to question a goddamn thing. "I don't care where you put me, Sy. Just put me to work and don't give me a second to myself," he exhaled in defeat, his desperate plea evident in the unevenness in his raspy tone. It was the ranch or a bottle of whiskey, and for the time being, the latter sat untouched in his liquor cabinet a couple of miles down the road. "And thanks... for letting me come out. I really appreciate it."

Aspen had, unfortunately, became slightly more clingy since the separation. Mallory had no clue why her daughter had been all but glued to the hip with her, as it wasn't like things would be different. She'd still primarily live with her, no matter where that'd be, and see her father during the holidays, just like they had the last fifteen years of Aspen's life. But Mallory could never understand teenage girls, not even when she had been one herself. However, it was starting to affect Mallory's work, not having a minute to herself because her daughter was worried about her, so she decided to be uncharacteristically cruel toward her daughter, using her weaknesses against her. Aspen hated the smell of gasoline, and only ever accompanied Mallory to one if they needed to stop to fill up the tank on the way to another location. Not even in her quest to ease her mother's loneliness could she bare stomaching the odor, leaving the older woman truly alone for months. She parked up in a parking spot - not actually needing gas tonight - bought some cigarettes and a couple of snacks, and perched herself outside, taking the slowest drag she could muster. "What?" She snapped, when she noticed someone was looking her way. "Can I help you with something?"

character — @syweston

The crunching of fall colored leaves beneath her boots and the bite of the breeze was proof that her favorite time of the year was in full swing. "You know, I've never been all that great at haunted houses. I like scary stuff, I just don't like being scared." She bit down onto her bottom lip, stifling a grin and hum of laughter in response to her own shortcoming of logic.

"But that's why I brought you along. No one messes with a cowboy, right?" Parker's gaze swept over the variety of colors on the ground until her gaze fell on the man that she'd thought about far too much since their getaway in California. A breath hitched in her throat as she lingered on the curve of his mouth, her entire body heating up at the memory left in the wake of his lips.

character — @syweston

"For every wrong turn we take, it's a shot. Think wisely, 'cause this flask isn't all that big." He cracked a grin towards the cowboy as fingers curled around the old metal flask in question that he'd tucked skillfully into his waistband upon walking through the arch of admittance. After a full day of playing Mr. Responsibility, all he wanted was dumb fun with someone he knew that could offer with ease. Broken corn stalks crunched between his boots as the pair entered the maze. The straight and somewhat narrow journey to the upcoming fork would offer their first challenge of the night — to drink or not to drink, that was the question. "I'll let you pick first. You know, respecting my elders and all that. Left or right?"

character — @syweston

One simple suggestion had turned into a weekend away b Providence Peak, had turned into an entire week of untouchable bliss. Sarcasm spilled freely, but so did the quiet sounds of happy hums of pleasure and low mutterings between lovers. For one week, it felt like that was what they were. It was the carefree time she'd been curious of, the kind forged between longing looks and calloused hands on her skin. For one week straight, she hadn't gone a day without either.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" She beamed at show horses as they were all being pampered within their own stalls. Some of their manes were braided, while others curtained naturally. Fingers tightened briefly between the gaps of the cowboy she'd been wrapped up in. Selfishly, she never wanted to go back to Colorado.

The flannel that had been rolled at the sleeves was the very one she'd taken from a couple of weeks earlier. His cologne had faded away from the material, but the memory of the night they'd shared within his tent would never fade away. "So, we have this and something tomorrow, right? Then after that, it's back home?"

A knowing smile curved at the corners of her mouth, disappointment hidden beneath the surface of her features. "I've had fun." More than fun — she couldn't remember the last time she'd been so happy.

character — @syweston

Against every instinct within, she'd finally found herself stumbling into the stables where familiar grins and greetings were tossed her way. Some looked amused to see her stopping by, others curious, while Del seemed downright excited to see her again after the bonfire. Maybe he'd missed the part where she slithered into Silas' tent after a dance left her breathless, or maybe he just didn't care.

If she had to guess, it wasn't the latter. It only took a matter of half a minute for her to find the man she hadn't spoken to since sneaking out of his tent with his flannel atop her shoulders to combat the early morning bite of the breeze. "I heard you boys were jousting today." A fact that both amused and worried her a bit. Cowboys could be all too reckless, but surely they'd have half a mind to be careful.

Parker came to a halt near the man her thoughts had been wrapped around like a bad habit she couldn't kick. "Think you'll find your way in the middle of it, or over being knocked to the ground these days?"

character — @syweston

While he hadn't promised to leave his guitar at home, he had all but promised that he wouldn't get drunk enough to need it. His own lousy six pack hadn't lasted more than two hours, but in his defense, sharing had been the root of the problem. Did he regret it? Not even a little. His kindness had been repaid by others. A beer here, a beer there, and a couple of shots in between meant that his buzz wavered on something more. "Damn, how's your guitar prettier than you are?" He grinned between two large gulps of a cold one he'd swiped from the male's cooler. "Got mine in the Jeep. Told Ken I wanted to bring it just in case, you know. If you want some company," he half offered, half suggested with raised brows.

character — @syweston

What frustrated her more than the man himself was the gravitational pull she felt every single time they were near one another. She'd made aimless conversation in every area she lingered in, but drifting in his direction had been inevitable. "Just you tonight? No other cowboys keeping you company?" Rather than dip into the cooler near him, she simply lifted her own bottle to call a momentary truce. How long it lasted was entirely up to him. "Mind if I join? I need a break from all that," she explained with a lazy nod back to the dancing people and loud laughter in between. "Don't worry, I packed my own for the night. I'm right over there," she pointed out, the vintage red cooler at the side of her tent, "so if I run out, I won't go dipping into yours."