Solid Gold Cowboy

At least, not shouting and screaming.
It had been death by a thousand cuts.
Pinpricks of passive aggressiveness that marred every single day. And Laz himself felt like he was walking on eggshells constantly. Just trying to avoid all of that. But he knew firsthand how parents could be there for you physically, and yet hold everything back emotionally. How people could be in a marriage, and simultaneously not be in it. Technically doing all the right things, but emotionally not managing it. And he just... He had no interest in failing somebody that profoundly. And at the end of the day, that was his concern. That he would profoundly fail the person that he tried to enmesh in his life.
When he pulled up to the little house that Jordan shared with Dylan, he felt a strange turn of envy.
Well, she didn’t share it with him anymore. Now she shared his house with him. So what about that?
He walked up to the front door, and lifted the little pot with the geranium in it, grabbing hold of the key that was indeed there, and then he fit it into the lock. But just as he did, the door jerked open. And there was Dylan, looking enraged. Laz was no stranger to a bar fight—at least breaking one up. But it wouldn’t even be fair to engage in a scuffle with Dylan, who was about half his muscle mass and at least three inches shorter. Basically, Laz could kick his ass by breathing on him too hard.
“She didn’t think you’d be here.”
“Oh,” Dylan said. “She’s with you. I should have known.”
Laz had briefly met Dylan a couple of times over the years. On the odd occasion that they’d come into the bar to eat a meal. He’d never been hostile toward Laz, but Laz had always gotten the feeling that he didn’t particularly like him.
It was fine. He was used to that. Often men found him intimidating. Because Laz was the kind of guy who could absolutely steal your girl if he felt like it. It was just that he didn’t want drama, so he didn’t often feel like it. And when it came to Jordan... He cared too much. He had always cared too much. To just seduce her. To ask her for a fling to scratch the itch that echoed through his whole soul.
“Yes,” Laz said. “She’s with me. Because she came to me, and she needed a place to go. And I’m her friend.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re her friend. Your reputation precedes you,” Dylan said, stepping forward, and to his credit, Laz had a feeling he pretty much would challenge Laz to a fight at this point. So he had to give the guy at least a little bit of props for that. Apparently he’d go all in in a fight for Jordan. It was just too bad he would lose.
“Look, her coming to me has nothing to do with that. Her not marrying you has nothing to do with me.” He wished it did. Even if it wasn’t fair.
“I don’t believe that.”
“Feel free to go on not believing it. But it’s true. I’m here to get her things.”
“Where is she staying?”
“None of your damn business. She’ll talk to you when she’s ready. But she needs to sort herself out.”
“I’m her fiancé. You’re nothing to her. You’re some guy she moons over in the bar. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. She practically drools when you walk by.”
“Then I guess that’s your fault for not giving her something to moon over. If I’m irresistible to her, that’s your damn fault. You should have been more irresistible, I guess. And before you say anything, that’s got nothing to do with looks. I listened to her. How long’s it been since you’ve done that.”
He pushed past Dylan. “I just want her suitcase.”
“This is my house.”
“I have a key. Because Jordan told me where it was. It’s her house too. You all are going to have to sort that out, but I am here to sort this out. Because she asked me to. Because I’m her friend. I don’t care if you don’t understand that.”
He saw the suitcase, sitting there by the sofa. And he grabbed it. He didn’t have to ask if it was Jordan’s, because it had flowers on it. Which was funny, he hadn’t taken her for the kind who would have a flowered suitcase. And somehow he knew it had been a gift. A gift she’d been given that just didn’t fit her at all. He would buy Jordan a black suitcase, and sure, it would be harder to find on the luggage carousel, but it would at least suit her demeanor.
Jordan didn’t like to draw attention to herself. You had to dig deep to get to her humor. You had to dig deep to get her loyalty. But it was worth it. And he had to wonder if any of these people who had cared for her had ever dug for the parts of Jordan that made her... Her.
He took the suitcase and hefted it into his truck. He had just enough time to get back to his place, deposit all this and get back to the bar. He didn’t have to be there every day. He had a good staff that handled things for him, but mostly he was just used to it. It was his life. Just the way he was fundamentally put together, he imagined. His grandmother had made the ranch her life. His father had made his medical practice his life. And Laz might not be a doctor, but he loved what he did. And he cared about it. It earned him a living, and gave him a sense of accomplishment.
He drove back up to the house, and was greeted by the smell of baking bread.
Yeah. This was a good idea. “Here are your things,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I’m hungry.”
“Well. Good. The bread is almost done. And there’s soup. Do you eat when you