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I don’t move. “They never said anything to me,” she tells me. “Did you know your father was sick?” I shake my head again, still watching the tire sway. I hear her swallow. “Apparently, he tried treatments, but the disease was aggressive,” she says. “The doctor said he… he wasn’t going to last the year, honey.”
She carries shears in her hand and charges right up to the tire swing, and as she raises the scissors to the rope, I clench my fists under my arms and watch her press the handles together, working through the rope until the tire hangs by twine and eventually falls to the ground.
Only my parents and Mirai had that number. It was a phone for them to reach me if anything was urgent, since they knew I turned off my other one a lot. They never used that number though, so I never kept it on me anymore. Pushing up on my knees, I reach into my desk drawer and pull the old iPhone off its charger and fall back to the floor, looking at the screen.
His dark blond hair is slicked back under a backward baseball cap, and he doesn’t look much older than me, maybe twenty or twenty-one. His body, though… His strong arms are tanned dark under his green T-shirt, and he’s broad. His crystal clear blue eyes widen, and his mouth hooks in a half-smile. “This is Noah,” Jake introduces us. “My youngest.”
“Your dad did, too,” he adds, and I can hear the taunt. I pinch my eyebrows together. Was that a dig? “My dad had pretty hands,” I muse, taking a sip without looking at him. “So real men use chainsaws and pick-up trucks instead of Mont Blancs and cell phones?” I ask. I turn my head, peering up at him, and he narrows his blue eyes on me. “Well, he’s dead now,” I tell Jake. “You win.”
The peak is massive. But so close. Such a strange feeling, something so big, reminding you that you’re small, but also reminding you that you’re part of a world full of magnificent things. What a great thing to be able to see—and relearn—every day.
“Start breakfast when you get back to the house,” he tells me. “After you unsaddle the horse, of course.” I narrow my eyes without thinking. Cook? I have no problem helping out, but why that? I look away. “I’ll pitch in, but I’m not staying in the kitchen.” I’m not sure if I have a problem with cooking or because that’s where he wants me. Put the girl at the stove, because of course she doesn’t know how to ride a horse or shoot, right? “Do you know how to tend crops instead?” he asks.
Cooking as a part of my share but not gonna do that all the time because I’m not a fucking personal chef
“So cooking breakfast, it is,” he chirps. “We all do our part, Tiernan. If you want to eat.”
Bitch, then teach me like I don’t wanna be stuck just cooking shit, wouldn’t it be better to learn all that if you want to prepare me for like any worst possible situation. No you don’t wanna do that and boss me around like an asshole because you are too stupid to teach my girlie anything

