Chapter 12 #3
For a while, we don’t talk, and we’re just boys again.
We cast our lines, watch the bobbers drift, listen to the soft lapping of the water.
I thought it might be awkward being down here with him after all these years, but it’s surprisingly nice.
I can’t help but remember all the times we came down here as kids.
We’d have so much fun doing hardly anything at all.
“Remember when you taught me how to skip rocks?”
Chesney laughs. “You mean when I tried to teach you? You were terrible.”
“I wasn’t that bad.”
His gaze slides over to me, and I have to bite back a laugh at the look he gives me. “Lyle skipped rocks better than you.”
I swallow harshly at the casual mention of his little brother, then clear my throat and roll my eyes. “Okay, fine. I was terrible.”
Chesney’s laugh is deep and throaty. I can’t help but laugh too. I really was an awful rock skipper. To this day, I doubt I could do it properly. The laughter fades naturally, and the quiet that follows feels comfortable.
“You tired?” I ask after watching him yawn three times in a row.
His eyes flick toward me. “I’m fine.”
I lift my brow. “That’s not what I asked. You were yawning when I was at the cabins earlier, too. Are you not sleeping well?”
Chesney returns his focus to the creek and pauses for a moment, like he’s not sure if he wants to answer me. “My quality of sleep is fine. It’s the amount of sleep that’s the issue.”
“Like you aren’t getting enough?”
“I’ve been helping Truett in the morning before coming here.”
“Helping him…on the ranch?”
He nods, but still doesn’t look at me.
My eyebrows shoot up. That’s a lot. “Every morning?”
Chesney reaches into the cooler and grabs a bottle of water. “Most mornings, yeah.”
“Wow.” I blow out a breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Shrugging casually, he says, “Because it’s not a big deal.”
“Chesney.”
He gives me a tired look, and my chest squeezes. “I get up at three-thirty and help him with the cattle, feed, or whatever else needs doing, then come here by nine.”
“And work until it’s dark,” I say slowly. “Why do that to yourself?”
“Because Truett needs the help,” he offers plainly.
That’s so much work. Especially with how hard he’s been working on getting the cabins ready. He’s busting his ass all day, every day with construction. “He has ranch hands.”
“Not enough.” He meets my gaze. “And with my dad as sick as he is, there ain’t no way he’s helping the way he used to.”
My heart aches for him. And for Truett. I know exactly what that’s like. It’s a different kind of exhaustion. Then add on a parent with cancer. Fuck. Life really isn’t on your side sometimes.
“I’m so sorry, Chesney.” I hope he knows how much I truly mean that. “Truett mentioned he was declining.”
His whole demeanor changes. I can’t imagine how hard—and probably confusing—this must be for Chesney, considering how volatile their relationship has been all these years.
“I don’t even know how to explain what it’s like being in that house right now.
” He huffs a laugh that lacks humor. “It feels like there’s this ever-present darkness seeping through the walls and spreading over every surface.
It’s heavy and so goddamn suffocating. Like every ounce of light has been burnt out. ”
My throat tightens. I don’t interrupt or add anything to the conversation because I think what Chesney really needs in this moment is to voice how he’s feeling.
“He sleeps a hell of a lot these days because of the meds, and he just looks so…frail. So breakable.” His voice cracks. “I don’t know how to do this. Any of it. I spent so much of my life resenting the man, and now that he’s dying, I don’t know how to process the way I feel about it.”
I turn toward him. He’s staring out at the creek.
If I had to guess, it’s probably easier to say all of this if he doesn’t look at me.
Like it’s less vulnerable. “I think it’s perfectly okay to feel torn.
This isn’t something you’ve navigated before, and I’d imagine it’s uncomfortable to feel empathy or sadness for somebody who caused you so much hurt. ”
Silence sits with us for a moment.
Looking down at his hands, Chesney sighs. “Keeping myself busy and out of the house is what I need right now. So yeah, I may be overworking myself, and I may be more exhausted than I know what to do with, but the alternative… It’s too damn depressing to even think about.”
I understand more than he realizes.
Grief has a way of convincing you that if you just keep moving, you’ll be okay.
“That’s why you were short with me earlier.”
Chesney’s mood makes so much sense. He’s drowning in double the work and a dying parent, and he gets no break from it. I’m willing to bet he’s out there on the ranch helping Truett during the weekend too.
“I’m sorry you’re dealing with so much,” I say softly, wishing I had something more profound to offer him.
This time when he looks at me, it’s like he’s really seeing me. “Thanks. I appreciate you saying that.”
Nothing more is said about that, or really, anything. It’s dark by the time we pack everything and head our separate ways. I took a risk tonight, and I’m glad I did. Chesney’s carrying far too much, and I feel good that I was able to be a space for him to unload, even if only for a few hours.