I take a step closer, towering over her. “That ain’t you, cowgirl. Playin’ dress up.” I glance over at Pappy, who’s on his phone. “I know you’d rather snap his fat neck than take orders from a man.” She snarls. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me anymore.” I flinch. “You’re right, I don’t. Because you left.” “I took a time-out.” “And that time-out lasted a year?” For a long second, she’s silent. She holds my gaze, her expression unreadable. Then she says, “It was either leave, or walk into the Pacific with rocks in my pockets.”
