75 "crossing the line"

The morning air was sharp, all frost and dust and the low rumble of cattle shifting in the pens. I had my sleeves rolled up, vaccine gun heavy in my hand, moving down the line with muscle memory doing most of the thinking. Patsy was safe with Monica near the house—close enough that I could see her bright dress dart between grown legs when she laughed.I didn't notice Laramie at first.I noticed Walker.I felt him before I saw him as always—the way the space changes when someone important steps into it. He was working the chute, calm and steady, voice low to the cattle like he always had been. Same man. Different everything.And then Laramie slid in close.

Too close.

She laughed at something he said, a hand brushing his arm like it belonged there. Her smile lingered. Her body angled toward him, hips cocked, eyes sharp and knowing. She wore confidence like armor, like she expected the world to make room.My jaw tightened.I kept working. Didn't stop. Didn't miss a beat. Just watched from the corner of my eye as she leaned in again, said something I couldn't hear. Walker shifted—subtle, but I saw it. Not inviting. Not encouraging. Just... patient. Polite.That didn't matter.What mattered was that she knew exactly what she was doing.I finished my row and handed the gun off, wiping my hands on my jeans. When I stepped toward them, Laramie's eyes flicked to me immediately. Recognition flashed there—then calculation."Well I'll be damned," she said, smile sharp. "Didn't know you were back.""I am," I replied evenly.Walker looked between us, tension rising like heat off the dirt. "Laramie—"She waved him off. "Relax. Just sayin' hello."Her gaze dropped—quick, deliberate—to my ringless hand, then lifted to my face. "Didn't think you were the type to come back."I met her stare. "Didn't think you were still here. Jumping around from cowboy to cowboy"There it was.Her smile tightened. "Ranch needs hands. And I'm good at my job."

"Not sure who told you that fact."

She stepped closer, chin tipping up. "Funny thing about history," she said softly. "It has a way of repeating itself."I didn't raise my voice. Didn't need to. "Funny thing about jobs.. it's easy to loose one" I threatened. Walker finally stepped in, placing himself just enough between us to break the line. "That's enough."Laramie scoffed. "You always did hate confrontation."I looked at him then. Really looked. His eyes met mine—steady, apologetic, firm. He turned back to her."I'm workin'," he said. "That's it."Her gaze lingered on him a second longer than it should have. Then she smiled—cold and pretty. "Sure you are. For now."She walked off, boots crunching gravel like punctuation.My hands shook once. Just once. Then I clenched them into fists and let it pass.Walker exhaled slowly. "Willie—""I'm fine," I said. A beat. "I just don't like games."He nodded. "Me neither."From across the yard, Patsy waved at me, holding up a stick like it was treasure. I smiled back, grounding myself.Whatever Laramie thought she was stirring—She was late to the fire.

**** that night

The bunkhouse was already loud by the time I walked in.Music thumped through the walls—country turned reckless with bass—boots and laughter and too many bodies packed into one space. Women I didn't recognize leaned against doorframes and tables, beer bottles dangling from their fingers, hair done up and shirts cut low. Cowboys were already drunk, already grinning, already half gone.I came in late.Patsy was finally asleep—curled on her side in the trailer, breath soft and even, one hand still clutching the stuffed horse Walker had found for her. I stood there longer than I needed to, watching her chest rise and fall, reminding myself why I was steady. Why I had to be.

When I stepped inside the bunkhouse, the first thing I noticed was Laramie.Half naked wasn't an exaggeration. She was draped over the back of a chair like it was made for her, skin on display, clothes more suggestion than fabric. She laughed too loud, head thrown back, already deep into whatever she'd been drinking. Classless was the word that hit me first—sharp and uninvited.Then I heard her voice."—I just don't get it," she was saying loudly, too loudly. "How anyone could want a woman who's had a kid."The room didn't quiet, but something shifted. I stopped moving."Bodies change," she went on, slurring just enough to make it crueler. "They're not the same. Bellies, boobs—everything gets loose. Even the parts men actually care about."Her eyes found me.Locked.Evil wasn't dramatic enough. She was watching to see if it landed.Walker stood near the table, jaw tight, pouring himself a drink like patience was the only thing keeping his hands busy. I could tell he'd heard every word. I could tell he hated it. But he didn't stop her.That hurt more than I expected."Willie!" Laramie called, grinning. "C'mon over here."Every instinct told me to walk away.I didn't.I crossed the room slowly, my pulse loud in my ears. I stopped a few feet from her, looking down at her like she was something I'd stepped in by accident.She tilted her head, pretending innocence. "I mean—you'd understand, right? Wanting what someone else already had."I said nothing not fully understanding. She smiled wider. "Walker's real good ain't he? Ain't his size just perfect? Maybe for you since you know.. you're.. loose and all. Figures you might want my sloppy seconds."That did it.I laughed once. Short. Mean."Sloppy?" I said. "That's rich, coming from someone who's confused being loud with being wanted."Her smile fell."You talk like you know him," she snapped."I do," I said evenly. "I knew him before you. I knew him when he didn't need an audience."The room was watching now. Cowboys quieted. Music kept playing, but no one was dancing.She stood up fast, swaying. "You think havin' a kid makes you special?""I think surviving makes me real," I shot back. "And you wouldn't last a day in the life I lived."Her face twisted. "At least I didn't trap him."That word snapped something inside me.I stepped closer. "You don't get to talk about my child. Ever."Walker moved then. "Laramie. Stop."She turned on him, furious. "You always do this—""I said stop."His voice cut clean through the noise. The room went still.

Laramie didn't stop.

She never knew when to stop.

She lingered near the doorway, half turned back toward the room, eyes glassy and cruel as she lifted her bottle again. Her voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Guess you should've done what smart girls do," she said, smirking. "Saved yourself the stretch marks, saggy tits and a loose hooch!. An abortion would've fixed all that."

The word hit me harder than any hand ever could.The room went dead silent.Something inside me snapped so clean and sudden it scared me.I don't remember deciding to move.I remember the space between us disappearing.I remember her gasp when I grabbed her shirt and shoved her back, the bottle clattering to the floor and shattering. I remember her hands coming up too late, her mouth still twisted in that ugly grin as I drove her back into the wall."You don't get to say that shit!," I hissed, voice shaking with something feral. "You don't get to speak about my child. Ever."She tried to laugh it off, tried to push me back, but all the years I'd swallowed my anger—every insult, every bruise, every loss—came pouring out at once. I struck her again, not caring where, not caring who saw. Just needing her to stop existing in my space.Cowboys surged forward as my fists dove into her face.

"Willie—!"

"Hey, hey—!"

Hands grabbed my arms, pulling me back as Laramie slid down the wall, stunned and swearing, mascara streaked and pride shattered. I fought them, breath ragged, heart hammering like it wanted out of my chest.Walker was suddenly there—solid, furious, one arm locking around my waist, pulling me away from her."That's enough," he said, voice like thunder. Not at me. At her. At the room. At everything.I was shaking when he turned me toward him, his hands firm but careful, like he was afraid I'd break."She crossed a line.." he said quietly, eyes staring at me to calm me. "She's done here."Laramie was hauled out moments later, still yelling, still venomous, but no one laughed with her now. No one followed.The music never came back on.I stood there in Walker's grip, chest heaving, tears burning behind my eyes—not from regret, but from the weight of everything I'd protected with my body."My daughter," I whispered, voice cracking. "She doesn't get to talk about my daughter."Walker didn't hesitate."She won't," he said. "Ever again."

I twisted against Walker's grip the second we hit the night air as he took me outside. "Let go of me," I snapped, feral, lungs burning. "Let me go."Laramie was still there—half dragged, half stumbling across the yard, spitting curses over her shoulder. The sight of her mouth moving again, still saying things, still existing, sent white heat through my veins."I'm not done," I yelled, trying to wrench free. I kicked at the dirt, surged forward with everything I had. "You don't get to say that about her!! about my baby!! Say to my fucking face again bitch!!" I swore.. I never did that. Walker tightened his arms instantly, locking me against his chest, one hand braced hard over my ribs, the other gripping my wrist before I could swing again.

"Willie. Stop." His voice was low but edged sharp, command threaded with fear. "Stop. Right now!"

"She said it like it was nothing!" I screamed, tears finally spilling over, rage and heartbreak colliding. "Like Patsy is a mistake. Like she shouldn't exist—"

"I know," he said, breath hot near my ear as I fought him. "I know. I heard her."I tried again, harder this time, nearly tearing free. Walker cursed under his breath and shifted his stance, planting his boots in the dirt, turning his body so he was between me and her completely."She's not worth jail," he said, firm now. "She's not worth losing your daughter."That stopped me.Not fully—but enough for my body to hesitate while my heart kept screaming."I should've—" My voice broke. "I should've hurt her worse!!"Walker shook his head once. "No. You already won."I laughed then—sharp and broken. "Doesn't feel like it."

Laramie shouted something else as she was shoved toward a truck. I strained again, a sob ripping out of me, fingers clawing at Walker's arm."Walker, please—"He turned me fully toward him, hands sliding up to hold my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were blazing, but not with anger—with something protective and wild."Look at me," he said. "She doesn't get another second of you. Not your fists. Not your tears. Not tonight."My knees buckled then, the fight draining out of me all at once. Walker caught me immediately, pulling me into him as my forehead hit his chest.I was shaking so hard I couldn't breathe."She talked about my body," I whispered, humiliation finally surfacing beneath the rage. "Like I'm ruined. Like no one could want me after—"Walker's hand slid to the back of my head, holding me there, solid and unyielding."She doesn't know a damn thing," he said. "You carried life. You built something perfect. And anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve to look at you."I sobbed into his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric like I might fall apart if I let go.Behind us, a truck door slammed. An engine roared to life. Laramie was gone.Walker didn't loosen his hold.Not once. "Besides. Your tits are much bigger than they were before" he smirked. I let out a tearful laugh. "You're such an asshole!" I smiled. "They're wonderful if I do say so myself" he grinned. And in that moment I kinda knew I still loved every bit of him