Chapter 19
19
Conrad Strauss
W alking out of the barn, I spot Nana ambling toward me, a look of determination on her face.
“Everything okay?” I ask, coming to a stop in front of her. Taking the hat off my head, I swipe my arm across the sweat on my brow. It’s chilly today, but you’d never know it after working your ass off all morning.
“Whit just called the house phone. Said he couldn’t reach you on your cell.”
“It’s probably in my room. What did he need?”
She waves her hand out in front of her. “I guess some dog lost his lunch on Whit’s sweater, and he doesn’t have another. He asked if you could bring him one because his afternoon is packed and he can’t leave.”
I can see the sheer disgust on Whit’s face clear as day in my mind. For working in a profession where bodily fluids are a common occurrence, Whit hates vomit. It’s the one thing he can’t really do, and for it to get on his person…he’s probably ready to crawl out of his skin.
“Okay, I can do that.” Remembering her telling everyone at Will’s that she wants to get out of the house, I ask, “Do you want to come with me?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she replies with a grin.
“Let me run inside and grab him a sweater. Did he say which one he wanted?”
“He said any would do.”
“That’s very unlike him,” I murmur. “He must be desperate.”
“He sounded quite panicked.” She laughs softly as we make our way back inside.
“Alright, give me five minutes, and we can go.”
In my room, I head straight to the closet, finding a suitable choice. Whit has dozens of these cardigan sweaters, and yet, he’s still so picky about which ones he wears. Some aren’t baggy enough, and others are too baggy. Some days, he likes the ones that are longer, while others, he prefers more form fitting. Finding a dark blue one that I see him wear often, that I know will go with his scrubs, I pluck it off the hanger, and am about to call it good when something catches my eye.
Tossing the sweater on the bed behind me, I grab the manila folder off the top shelf. I don’t recognize it, so I’m assuming it’s Whit’s. Which probably means I should put it the hell down and walk away, but I don’t do that. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I open the folder up, sifting through what looks like loan documents.
Holy shit… Whit took out a second mortgage on his house. Why the fuck would he do that? Glancing at the date on the signature lines, it’s clear he just did this too… But why? I continue flipping through until I get toward the back, and that’s when I see it. The late notices.
He’s been late paying the mortgage on the vet clinic.
So he took out a loan on his house to pay for it?
Why would he do that? And why is he struggling so badly? As far as I knew, that clinic did quite well for itself. It always has.
Closing the folder, I toss it back up on the top shelf before scrubbing a hand over my mouth. Shit. This must be why Whit’s been so stressed out lately, the reason his nightmares seem to be back.
Why the hell wouldn’t he tell me? I could’ve helped him.
“Conrad!” Nana calls out, reminding me that we’re supposed to leave. “You about ready? What’s taking you so long?”
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath as I grab the sweater off the bed. I rip open the door, finding her standing just on the other side. “Let’s go.”
“You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“There’s a couple shops on Main Street I’ve been wanting to check out,” she says as soon as we get on the road. “After we bring Whit his sweater, what do you say we do a little perusing?”
Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do with my afternoon…fucking shop. “Sure,” I reply instead.
Nana claps her hands. “Wonderful! It’ll be so fun.”
“I’m sure it will.”
The entire drive, I can’t stop thinking about that folder. About the stress Whit must be under. I have dozens of questions, but I can’t ask any of them. I shouldn’t have been snooping through his things in the first place. He’d probably have my throat if he found out. Not to mention, he’d probably refuse to tell me anything, even if I did ask. Whit has a tendency to be overly independent; he’s always been that way.
For years, he’s strived to make his father proud, and in wanting that, it’s almost like he fears that asking for help or showing any signs of distress make him appear weak. And I suppose I can understand that to an extent. But Whit is the furthest thing from a weak man.
As I’m pulling into a parking spot in front of the clinic, I’m wracking my brain about what I can do to help him. He’s clearly at his max with stress, and it’s wearing on him. He’s not sleeping properly, his nightmares are back, and he even looks exhausted now that I think about it. He shouldn’t have to weather this burden on his own. But I know Whit like the back of my hand, and I know without a shadow of a doubt, if I approach him about this in the wrong way, he’ll completely shut me out.
I gotta be smart about this.
Turning off my truck, I grab the sweater and toss a look over at my nana. “Where’re the shops you’re wanting to go to?”
“There’s one two doors down.”
“Okay, you go there, and I’ll run this into Whit, then meet you.”
The waiting room is packed as I walk in. Shit, he wasn’t kidding about his busy afternoon, I guess.
“Hi, Mr. Strauss,” Maddy greets cheerfully as I stop in front of the check-in desk. “Here to see Dr. B?”
Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, he needed?—”
“Oh, thank god, you’re here,” Whit cuts in, rounding the corner. “You can come on back.”
Smiling at Maddy, I walk over to the door that leads to the back just as he’s pulling it open. “You okay?” I ask, even though he’s clearly not. As we walk back toward his office, I watch his hands fidget at his sides, and his steps are hurried but short.
“No,” he grumbles. “Today has been the day from hell, and the icing on top of it all is the dog that barfed all over me. My favorite cardigan!” I bite back the chuckle wanting to slip out as we enter his office. Closing the door behind us, he snatches the sweater from my hand. “Thank you for bringing this. I’m sure you were busy.”
“It was no trouble,” I offer. “I was in between tasks anyway. You caught me at a good time.”
It’s not lost on me that this is the first time Whit and I have been truly alone since the night in the barn three days ago. Aside from at night when we’re sleeping, Whit has done an exceptional job of avoiding me. I figured it would happen, but it’s still frustrating to witness, especially since all I want to do is talk about it, and maybe repeat it.
Okay, definitely repeat it.
Whit glances at me quickly before averting his gaze, slipping his arms through the sweater. “Well, uh, thank you anyway. I appreciate it.”
“You working late tonight?” I ask.
“Shouldn’t be.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you at home, then.” I pause for a moment before adding, “I’m making steak fettucine for dinner.” His favorite. The twitch of his lips lets me know he’s thinking the same, but he just nods.
“What are you up to the rest of the afternoon? Going straight there?”
Huffing out a chuckle, I shake my head. “Nah. Nana is at a store down the street. She asked if we could go shopping.”
Whit’s brow quirks, a grin tugging on his lips. “You, shopping?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, according to her, it should be ‘so much fun.’”
He snorts. “I’ll bet.”
Sharing a look, moments pass, and the longer his eyes are on mine, the more I want to lean in and kiss him. How can something that I haven’t done in years still feel so natural? The air in the room shifts, and I clear my throat.
“Well, I’ll see you at home,” I mutter, and then I leave. There’s so much I want to say, to ask, but I need to find the right time. We’ve never been good at communicating, except it was usually me avoiding things.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
Walking down the street, it’s easy to find the store Nana was referring to. Strolling in, I spot her down one of the sections, looking at random knickknacks. She glances up as I approach. “What do you think about this?” she asks, holding up a coffee mug.
“I think we have plenty of mugs at home.”
Grumbling, she puts it back on the shelf. “What a typical man response.”
My chest rumbles with a laugh. “Well, what did you expect?”
“Whit feeling better?” she asks, changing the subject as she leads me farther down the aisle.
“Yeah, he was happy to have a new sweater.”
“How are you guys doing?”
My brows pinch. “What do you mean?”
“The house has been a bit quiet the last few days,” she offers. “Did something happen?”
You mean, aside from me tying him up in the barn and making us come?
“We’re fine,” I reply instead. “Nothing happened.”
“That’s your response to everything, boy.”
Laughing again, I say, “Well, it’s true.” Sort of.
Nana glances up at me, lips pressed thin. “If you say so.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.
She stops walking, placing a hand on her hip as she peers up at me. “I’m just saying, I know how easy it is to let things get comfortable or stagnant. Don’t take what you have for granted.”
“Nana, where is this coming from?”
Is she onto us? Have we not done a good enough job?
“You boys have been married for a while now, and I remember when your mom and dad were about where you two are. The ranching can very easily take over your life. The chores, the repairs, the tasks. All of it. It can take over and leave you very little if you aren’t careful. Just never forget to love your husband, Connie. Never forget to make time for him because there will never be another one like Whit for you. Trust me when I say that. That man loves you to the end of the earth, and anybody can see.”
Oh, how I wish that were true.
I’m not an idiot. I know how lucky I was when I was married. Know how much Whit loved me, and there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t wish I could get that love back. I had him, and I lost him, but damn, if I won’t ever stop trying. Especially with him back in our house for the time being. Having him so close to me, seeing the way I so clearly still affect him, it gives me hope.
“You’re right, Nana,” I murmur. “Whit is it for me. Nobody could ever compare, nor would I ever want them to.”