Fallon smokes her cigarette, puffs a white ring into the air. “One day, I’m gonna chase those wild horses. And never come back.” I rub her thigh and frown, hating the idea of her gone. “Your sister would miss you.” Ignoring her dirty look, I pluck the smoke from her fingers and stamp it out. I fucking hate it when she smokes. A constant reminder of her reckless life. “I’d miss you.” She shrugs, rolls into my arms. Her raspy voice is like smoke rolling over silk as she says, “Cowboys don’t miss anything. Least of all a woman.”
