West [ COMPLETED ]

XX

The next morning Scott woke me up at 5:30 to help him with the chores, and I did not appreciate it in the least, but I held my tongue.

"Soldier girl's getting a taste of what a real soldier would have to do, eh?" He teased, ruffling my head.

I shoved him away but did consider his words. Maybe I wasn't cut out for the military after all.

I followed him Into the barn and watched him measure out all the feed for the horses, and we threw all the buckets in the back of the Gator and drove out into the field, dumping the feed into several different buckets.

"What do you have horses for?" I asked.

"Use 'em for the cattle."

"Oh, I was wondering if you used them or if you just liked them."

"Yeah, sometimes I work at the sale barn too, and I like my own mare for that."

"Oh cool," I nodded. " Can I ride them?"

"Yeah, sure anytime, I don't care. They need more exercise anyway, I haven't needed to use them in a while."

"Sweet," I said casually, repressing my excitement.

I really wanted to try out that big grulla gelding.

They all seemed to be Quarter horses, except for one Appy.

"Now the cattle are fine, just check on their water troughs again later, and I'll show you how to feed the dogs and you're good," he explained, driving up to the house and jumping out.

"Okay, what about...cats?"

"I hate cats, I don't have any," he said.

"Oh. That's stupid," I said.

"Ugh," he said, and starting filling up two bowls of dog food for the giant Anatolian shepherds that emerged from under the porch.

They didn't bark at me, strangely, just looked at me with some distrust before sitting solemnly in front of Scott.

He set the food down in front of them and still, they didn't move towards it, didn't even look.

He snapped his fingers and they dove in. I was impressed.

"They'll get used to you, just don't look them in the eyes," he said, heading inside.

Okay. That wasn't creepy at all. I stepped around the dogs and followed  Scott inside.

"I'm leaving for work now, just do whatever you want pretty much and if you want to clean the house that would be great," he called from his bedroom.

"Okay," I replied, and went over and flopped onto the couch. Which was piled with laundry.

I opened my phone and thought about texting Weston when I realized...I'd never even gotten his number. I suddenly panicked inside. What if he didn't have any social media and I was never able to find him or talk to him again?

I figured he probably didn't have snapchat, most likely not instagram, so I tried facebook...that was more of his age group.

Weston Travers....a whole bunch of them popped up.

I scrolled down for forever and almost gave up hope, and decided to look at the list another time.

I paused on a picture of what could have been Weston...a couple years ago. I clicked on the profile.

A young man in fatigues and posing with fellow soldiers, all grinning with buzz cuts.

It looked like him. A little slimmer maybe, a little more carefree looking.  I scrolled down through some of his other pictures and found one of him and his brothers. It was definitely him, Derek was just a little kid but he was impossible to not recognize.

I was about to add him when I paused. Would this make me look desperate? While he was off at his new hunting property, taking it down with friends his own age and Ashley, lovely Ashley, friend of his childhood. Ex girlfriend.

I exed out of facebook.

No. I wasn't going to add him.

If I meant as much to him as he did to me, he could add me himself.

But I had a feeling he wouldn't. I sighed and got back on facebook, deciding to stalk his friends instead.

Ashley. What is your last name.

I went to his followers and found her easily, she was one of the first ones that popped up.

She looked exactly as I'd imagined her, tall, slim, gorgeous long legs, curled blond hair that hung to her waist in almost every picture.

University of Colorado Springs.

Gorgeous.

A realtor.

Of freaking course.

All the little castles I'd build with Weston involved came tumbling down around me with one long scroll of Ashley Whitmore's facebook page.

Discouraged and sad, I tossed my phone away and curled up on my couch cushion, bringing my hands to my chest, where they touched something cold. I remembered Weston's tags then, and smiled as I curled my fingers around them.

Then again...who knew.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house. I found a stereo system and hooked my phone up to it, dancing and jamming out for hours.

I enjoyed cleaning, especially other people's houses,and this one didn't feel like mine yet.

By the time Scott got home I had transformed the kitchen and living room, mostly by piling all of his junk in one corner as neatly as I  could because I didn't know where any of it belonged, or what half of it even was.

I'd also made macaroni. I was impressed with myself honestly, I hated cooking.

"House looks really good," Scott said, nodding his head appreciatively.

"Good," I said, smiling, and gesturing dramatically towards the kitchen,"I also made macaroni."

"Oh really, you shouldn't have," he said, shaking his head.

"It was my pleasure," I said, bowing.

"No really, you shouldn't have, I hate macaroni," he said, kicking off his shoes.

"What?! You used to love it!" I said, shocked. And hurt.

"Yeah when I was twelve."

"Oh. Okay fine I'll eat it you can go get some alfalfa from the barn, I don't give a frick," I said huffily. Very obviously giving a frick.

"Calm down I'm kidding I don't hate it," he rolled his eyes.

"Ughhh." The forgotten joys of sibling hood.