Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Mitch sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket. He’d tried to get a couple of odd jobs so he could get that bike for Rachel’s birthday, but no one had anything for him.
Shit was hard all over, and no one even needed lawn work or backhoe stuff or anything.
Or at least that was what they were saying. He had a feeling no one wanted him to get hurt doing work for them.
His phone rang as soon as it hit the bottom of his pocket. He groaned and checked, grinning as he saw Mark’s face pop up.
The last thing on earth he needed to do right now was to confess all to his oldest friend, but he was fixin’ to do it, wasn’t he?
“Mark. Hey, buddy.”
Mark chuckled softly. “Hey, babe. So? You still got a roper in your house?”
“Yup.” And it didn’t seem like Cam was going to go anywhere. The man was fixing barns and painting shit and cooking and taking over his fucking life.
“Huh. Well, I can come beat him up for you.” That got him to laughing, because Mark was tiny. Like teeny tiny. A miniature redneck queen with a fiery temper and a zest for life that made the people around him wild.
“Don’t you laugh at me.” Mark snorted softly. “You know, just because I’m little don’t mean nothing. I managed to be a submariner for years, didn’t I? And I handled myself in the Navy, didn’t I?”
He closed his bedroom door. “I think that had more to do with the fact that you gave blow jobs a lot.”
“Listen to you, maligning my poor self.”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up.”
Mark’s chuckle was soft. “Seriously, how’s it going?”
“It’s going. I can’t…I’m scared my boss ain’t going to let me come back. I’m scared if he does, then I’ll fall off the damn roof again. I—I can’t even get the girls school clothes, and…shit. I don’t want to talk about me. There’s nothing here but pity-partying, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Go back to school.”
He snorted. “Not all of us can take a GI Bill and go to engineering school and find out we’re a fucking whiz at it.”
“No, you never enlisted, so you don’t get to have the GI Bill, but I can think of a lot of shit you’d be really good at.”
“I’m really good at roofing.” And he kind of liked it. He didn’t love being up on the roof, but he loved the planning part. He liked his job, he wanted to be able to do it.
“Didn’t you say that your man’s—”
“Not my man. It’s Cam. We broke up. You know this. You were there.”
“Yeah, and if we had any chemistry, you and me, we would’ve been the couple, and then you would’ve been a Navy wife. How cool is that?”
“Oh, do shut up.” He was not a fucking Navy wife.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You still like him though?”
“Of course I still like him.” What wasn’t to like—he was kind, friendly, gorgeous, good to the kids. “He’s actually a good man. Why can’t he just be a prick?”
“I assume we can blame his parents for that, but you know, I gotta tell you, Mitch, I mean you had a wife, you’ve got children, you’ve got a house, you got the things you wanted and so did he. Why are you still so goddamn mad?”
“Because I’m a pity case, man. Because if I wasn’t broken, he wouldn’t be here. I don’t even know if he ever thought of me once after he walked away.” Because he was mad at the fucking world, and Cam was close and easy.
“Okay, but if he had been hurt, and you know he has to have been, but if you knew he’d been hurt, would you go help him?”
“Huh?” Dammit. No, he wouldn’t have. Not before. Now he would. “Yes.”
“Dude, don’t lie. We both know that if he’d fallen off a horse and broke his neck, you wouldn’t have been in line to come take care of him and wipe his butt.”
“He’s never once wiped my butt.”
“Metaphorically, he has.” Mark sighed. “Anyway, don’t look this gift horse in the mouth. Stop it with the self-pity and think what you can do for him in return, if you don’t want to be a pity case.”
“That’s just it, buddy. There’s nothing I can do.”
“Oh, bullshit. Run interference with his momma. Figure out what his favorite movies are and cue them up at night when the girls go to bed. Talk to him about him. Cowboys love that. And it don’t cost you nothin’.”
“All right, asshole, there’s no reason to be ugly. I’m—”
“I’m not being ugly. I’m just trying to get you out of the hole you’re digging yourself into.
” Mark sighed. “Look, I’m going to send you some cash.
Don’t argue because I’m going to do it. It’s not a loan.
It’s a gift. Just enough to get you through the next little bit and let you feel like you got your feet on the ground. ”
No. No, that wouldn’t work. “I don’t want you to do that.”
“And God knows I have never done anything you don’t want me to do.
Let me ask your permission to do more shit.
Suck it up, man. I’ve listened to how you feel about this dude.
If you like him, then this lets you be on a little bit more even keel.
If you don’t like him, then this gives you a reason to tell him to get the fuck out.
So just shut the fuck up and say thanks, buddy. ”
Mitch took a deep breath and let it out. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll pay you back. I swear to God.”
“Mitch, you and those girls are my family, just like I’m yours. You pay me back all the time by letting me be Uncle Mark. So just shut up and when you two do get it on, I want details. Like a literal blow-by-blow.”
“I promise you nothing on that front. I’m not even sure mine works anymore.”
Mark’s scoff was loud, harsh. “It hasn’t been that long, man. It still works. You just need a little encouragement from the right person.”
And that was the truth. His everything had been trying to work that day that Cam kissed him. All of his everythings, in fact, had been working in the best possible way.
Cam was the right guy at the right time, God help him.
Too bad he didn’t think he was the right guy for Cam at any time. But maybe he would work on that. Maybe Mark was right, and he just needed to get over himself.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” he said, and he couldn’t stop his chuckles from bursting out.
“You do that, buddy. You do it. I love you, man. Remember that. You’ve always got me in your corner, nothing else.” He knew Mark had a hard time being so serious, so he really appreciated that his friend was making such an effort on his behalf.
“I love you too. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later. Bye.”
Mitch hung up and sat there on his bed for a minute trying to make that whole conversation make sense. If he went with it, which who knew whether he would from day-to-day, then what his brain was telling him was he needed to give Cam a chance and give himself a chance to see where things went.
Problem with that scenario was if Cam left him again, it might break his heart all over. And seriously, the odds were that Cam would leave because he was a rodeo man, and they always chased the game a lot longer than they did personal relationships.
How many songs were there about that anyway? At least three or four by Garth Brooks alone.
Now he was working himself up to being pity party Mitch, wasn’t he?
So he nipped that right in the bud and headed out from his bedroom to the front room.
He might not be able to lift and haul a lot, but he could straighten up and then maybe he could put some meatballs out from the freezer for dinner.
It had been long enough that nobody should cry, and that would be one thing Cam didn’t have to do today.
He figured that was doing something nice for Campbell in return, right? Just like Mark had said. Might not be much, but it would make him feel like a better dad and a better friend-slash-love interest for Cam. Anything that gave him more confidence these days couldn’t be bad.
One way or the other, he was gonna figure out how to pay everybody back from Cam to Cam’s momma to Mark. At least he felt like he could maybe do that now if he had a little breathing room.
Cam walked into the house, and it smelled damn good in there.
He was kind of surprised because he didn't think Bekka could do anything besides burn toast. And the last he'd known Mitch was in his room taking a nap or something.
Feeding had gone poorly today with Rosie chasing around after a couple of the smaller animals, and his Fire in a shit mood, trying to kick the hell out of him.
In fact, the damn horse had caught him right on the leg with a glancing blow. Nothing was fucked up, but it was still going to leave a pretty big bruise. He needed to go get that mare. That way he could start working with her too. Maybe Fire would straighten up and fly right if he was jealous.
He limped to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, hoping it was five o’clock or so. That way he wouldn’t feel like a schlep.
The oven was on, and there was a pot on the stove with the lid on it. A loaf of bread was lying out on the counter, like French bread style. Dollar French bread from the grocery store, but still.
He peeked in the oven and he had to laugh out loud because there were meatballs in there on a tray lined with foil.
Who was it Mitch had said cried every time they had meatballs?
Sarah? He hoped to God she didn’t burst into tears.
She was still an inkblot from Marlboro man country, but making friends with Teresa had brightened her up a bit.
He took a long drag on the beer before he washed his hands, cleaning out a nasty scrape he’d gotten while he was battling with a piece of barbed wire earlier in the day.
He heard Mitch walk into the kitchen and he turned around, surprised to see the man looking almost happy to see him. In fact, Mitch’s eye lines were all crinkled up and his lips were curved up at the corners. He wondered which girl had put that smile on Mitch’s face.
“Hey.” Mitch, frowned at his hand. “You cut yourself up pretty good.”
“Little bit, yeah, Fire kicked the shit out of me too. It was a rough day out there.” He wiped his hands on a towel. “Meatballs, huh?”