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I left the ranch around four in the afternoon and headed toward campus. I turned the volume up and Tim McGraw blasted from the speakers, drowning the thoughts that plagued me since I decided it was time to go back to my dorm.
You should go see him. Just to make sure he’s okay.
Who was I kidding? I knew I was driving to his half-built barn, even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it. To myself. So pathetic.
I followed the instructions Tom once gave me, and my heart raced, knowing I would see him soon. At least, I hoped I would. I had no idea where else he could be.
As I drove down the dirt road, I saw his truck parked in front of the barn.
Then I saw him. With a plaid shirt open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and fitted jeans, swinging an ax and cutting a log in half over a t
