Chapter 4
Chapter four
Dakota
The sun shines through the navy curtain shielding the window as I lay staring at the ceiling.
I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t believe the fact I had a sister.
A sibling I’d always begged for, but mom had made it clear that she didn’t even want me, much less anyone else to take care of.
Yeah, Bea Sterling was a regular June Cleaver.
I was trying to dig deep. Trying to psychoanalyze why I haven’t shed a tear over her passing.
It could be because she left me with that monster.
Left me knowing his temper. Knowing how neglectful he was.
But she didn’t even care, and as horrible as it sounds, a part of me doesn’t care that she’s not around anymore either.
I turn my head, my nose connecting with the soft cotton pillowcase where Cooper lays his head every night.
It smells like a cowboy, leather, and spice.
It smells like a man who probably did unthinkable things in these very sheets.
That thought has my stomach rolling, so I push the covers off of me before climbing out of the bed.
That’s one visual I can’t handle today. The thought of Cooper with another woman.
Just because I know that I can’t have him, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t sting when someone else does. It really fucking stings, actually.
I take a few minutes to brush my teeth with my toothbrush he has set aside for me when I occasionally sleep over.
He probably has a whole slew for his other overnight guests, but I push that intrusive thought away too.
A quick splash of water on my face and my hair pulled back into a ponytail has me ready to face whatever shit show is waiting outside this bedroom door.
Stepping into the hallway, I already smell the scent of bacon as I tiptoe down the brand new hardwood floors.
If there’s one thing about Cooper that is distinctly different from me, it’s that he’s a morning person.
Infuriatingly chipper before the sun is up and insists on cooking a full fledged breakfast along with making the world's worst coffee imaginable.
“Morning,” he calls when I walk into the room.
“Morning,” I mumble back, reaching into the fridge for the orange juice.
My eyes take in the kitchen, before I peer around the living room.
No sign of Arizona.
“Any movement this morning?” I ask, flaring my eyes with a tilt of my head in the direction of the guest bedroom.
“She’s not a wild hog, Kota. She’s a child.” He flings a hand towel over his shoulder as he carries a full plate of crispy bacon over to the island.
I glare at him, before I sit down on a bar stool. “I’m aware.”
He then moves to the microwave, retracting a pile of Texas shaped waffles.
“Your strawberries are already cut up in that bowl.” He motions.
“You’re going to make a fine housewife one day, Coop.” I drag the bowl to me while he shoots me a wink.
A wink I’ve tried years to endure without my stomach fluttering, but here I sit, about to flutter off of this stool.
“You didn’t sleep, did you?” He makes his own plate before planting himself next to me.
He was already fully dressed. Starched jeans, a paisley pearl snap with the top two buttons undone.
Always the top two, showing off the sterling silver chain that he always wore.
His scuffed up boots were on his feet, but he hadn’t put on his hat.
His hair was still slightly damp; the dirty blonde strands tossed around carelessly on his head as he shovels a bite of waffles into his mouth.
“Is that code for you look like shit?” I pop a strawberry into my mouth then nudge my shoulder with his. “Thank you for breakfast by the way.”
He smiles, my favorite dimple forming on his right cheek. “Always take care of you, Kota. You know this.”
And he did. Always.
“And you could never look like shit. I’ve seen you at your worst. Remember the county fair circa 2018?”
“God, don’t remind me.” I groan.
That night involved way too much vodka and corn dogs. Gross.
I sigh as I reach for a piece of bacon. “What do I do?”
“About what?” He stabs a few pieces of his waffle.
“About global warming.” I roll my eyes. “About the preteen currently sleeping in your guest room, Cooper.”
“First you need to confirm what she said about your mom. You can call the coroner’s office in New Orleans, or I’m sure find records online.”
That would be the easy part. But what about after? Where does she go? Who takes care of her? There’s not a chance in hell I’m equipped for this kind of responsibility, right? I can’t even keep up with a set of keys much less a human.
“Ok.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off a slight headache. The tequila from last night was wreaking havoc on my body today. “Thanks for letting us stay. I’ll take her to the trailer today.”
My current living situation may seem flighty to some, but residing in the living quarters of my horse trailer gave me the freedom to travel and to save money. Cooper never liked it, which is how I ended up parking it at the Mayson Ranch as its home base.
“I don’t like it,” he says.
“She’s my sister. Not your problem.”
“Well considering you’ve been my problem since we were ten years old, that makes her my problem via blood relation.”
I lift a brow. “I’m your problem?”
“Every fucking day,” he mumbles.
I flip him off, but he just snatches my hand, tugging me in for a hug that I pretend I can’t stand.
“I hate you sometimes,” I hiss as I push at his chest.
He chuckles. “Lies. You love me.”
More than anything.
“Dream on,” I scoff.
A throat clears and I jerk at the sound behind me. Arizona stands in her clothes from last night, her eyebrows lifted with amusement.
“Morning.” Cooper pushes to his feet. “Hungry?”
“Sure.” She shrugs a shoulder casually, but I can hear her stomach growl from here.
“Get whatever you want. Plates are there.” Cooper waves a hand. “Forks are in the drawer by the fridge.”
Her eyes cut to mine but then move to the spread on the island. I’m watching her approach with the timidness of a deer when a light touch lands on my shoulder.
Cooper nods in the direction of the porch, so I follow after telling Arizona I’ll just be a second.
When I close the door behind me, he drops his cowboy hat on his head.
“Let me run out to the barn. Make sure everything is sorted. You know Sundays are chill. When I get done, we can make those calls.”
I nod, the heavy weight settling in.
My mom is dead.
I have a sister.
“You don’t have to rearrange your day for me. I can handle it,” I tell him.
He ignores my comment per usual, then leans in and presses his lips to my temple. Like he does every time he leaves me. “Keeping my word, Kota.”
I watch his form travel down the stairs, across the gravel, and into the horse barn.
Keeping his word.
He always has.
Since the day I met him.
I’d give anything to be the woman who lived life right beside him. With him. But some things just aren’t in the cards for some of us. Some of us have bad blood running through our veins. Darkness in our roots. A darkness I could never allow to snuff out his light.