I shuck my sweaty rodeo school shirt off and change into my Runaway Ranch gear. Swipe aside the marketing material Ruby’s made for me. Tug a bottle of vodka from the cupboard. I grip its neck hard, my gaze going to the old coffee tin on the shelf. Forgetting about the drink, I give the coffee can a shake, rattling its contents as if to make me remember. As if to remind myself I haven’t made it all up. Us. Me and Fallon.
