her pitches up out of my throat unbidden. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Bailey.” I shout it across the table, listening to every syllable get swallowed up by the thumping bass. “Who do you want to be?” The question is so simple, but it bowls me over. “I don’t know. I was so tied up in my job. Now I don’t even know. A rancher? Part of my community? Around for my family? A good uncle? A good son?” She shakes her head at me slowly. “No, those are all things that you think other people want you to be.” She reaches across the table, index finger poking me in the center of my chest. “Who do you
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