Wylie sighed, poured two shots, downed one. He talked about the loneliness of Lightning Flat, about college, sex, drugs, the nothingness of it all. Trudy had latched on to him. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was comfortable.
He didn’t want his biography filled with an eternity of days spent alone. He’d rather be ranching, changing shitty diapers, wiping snotty noses, tiny hands sticky with grape juice.
Ennis smiled. If he’d done anything good in this hardscrabble life, it was Jenny and Junior.
“There more to love than that, Ennis? Not for guys like us.”
Ennis thought of Jack.
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