Chapter 25 #2
“I think we oughta take him to Twisted Bull and see how long he can last before pukin',” Tripp suggests. “Then maybe we'll accept.”
“I like that idea. We'll even buy you a few kegs first.” Wilder laughs.
“He'll be sick for days.” I scowl, shocked at myself for defending Jase after what he did, but my brothers are brutal. “Plus, he works with clients. He can't show up hungover and walkin' in circles.”
“Sounds like a fair punishment to me,” Waylon says.
“He apologized and gave us his word. That's enough to earn our forgiveness,” Momma says.
My idiot brothers roll their eyes and groan, but they'd never take it easy on Jase since they've never liked him.
“Y'all don't need to worry. I met my therapist for the first time last week, and I'll be seein' her weekly for a while. Realized I had some past issues I need to work through,” Jase explains.
“Really? I'm so proud of you!” I wrap an arm around him and gently squeeze. It takes a lot for someone to admit they need help.
“She, huh? She hot?” Wilder blurts out.
“If you're into older women with gray hair.” Jase shrugs.
“That'll be good for Wilder's mommy issues.” Landen laughs.
“Out...” Dad points at Landen and Wilder. “Take your plates and go.”
“Whaddido?” Wilder asks with a mouthful. “I was just makin' conversation.”
Landen's chair scrapes across the floor, and Wilder's soon follows. The room goes quiet as they walk out the door.
“Your therapist have room for another client?” I lean over and whisper so only Jase can hear me.
He chuckles. “I'll put in a referral for ya.”
Smiling, I dive back into my food. It feels nice to be on good terms with him again, even if I'm at odds with his dad. The room goes back to quiet conversation as my parents talk with my brothers and Gramma. Fisher stays quiet, only speaking when he's spoken to.
“My dad went with me to a grief support group Friday night,” Jase tells me a bit later.
My heart swells, knowing how badly they both need that. “That's wonderful. I mean, not that you have to go, but that—”
“I know what ya mean, Noah. It wasn't as bad as I anticipated. Free snacks.” Grinning, he shrugs.
I cackle. “You could lure me to a lot of places with free snacks.”
“You still trainin' with Donut this week?” Tripp asks me.
“Yep, startin' tomorrow. Gonna try to get an hour in each day so I can give Delilah an answer. Figure if he ain't killed me by Friday, I'll accept her offer.”
“Dude, that's so messed up,” Waylon complains. “You can't work with my ex.”
“Why not? I didn't cheat on her.”
He points his fork at me as if he's tempted to stab me in the eye. “I didn't cheat! We were on a break.”
I roll my eyes at his pathetic excuse. “Doesn't every man in the history of the world say that? We were on a break...” I mimic in a mocking tone.
“And with Marcia Grayson, no less.” Tripp's whole body shudders. “Girl talks with a lisp.”
“Tripp!” Momma scolds.
“Yeah, but imagine her tongue skills.” Waylon sticks his out, then waggles it.
“You're two seconds from eatin’ on the porch with your brothers,” Dad scolds.
“My apologies, Fisher. They seem to have lost their manners and minds,” Momma says.
“None needed, ma'am. Reminds me a lot of the young bull riders I traveled with.”
“You'd think ours were raised out with the pigs.” Momma glares at Tripp and Waylon, who quickly stuff their mouths with potatoes.
“Wait till there's grandchildren,” Gramma Grace speaks up with humor in her voice. “Those boys will realize soon enough to watch their mouths around toddlers.”
“Ew. Don't put the image of them reproducin’ in my head.” I shiver.
“Oh, I cannot wait. Five grown adults and no grandchildren yet...” Momma side-eyes me, and I glance around to see who she's talking to.
“Don't look at me. The twins are almost thirty. Harass them to settle down first.”
Waylon chuckles. “Wilder would get a vasectomy if the doctor would allow it.”
“I hope he ends up with ten kids, all like him,” I say.
“Is it dessert time?”
Speak of the devil.
Wilder charges into the house with his empty plate in hand as if he didn't get in trouble twenty minutes ago. He goes right to the counter where the pies are cooling.
“I gotta finish muckin' out at the trail barn before dark,” he explains as he helps himself to a slice.
“Why wasn't that done before dinner?” Dad asks.
“I got busy,” he exclaims. “And one of the fence wires needed fixin'. Slowed me down.”
Landen comes through next, takes a slice for himself, then pulls Wilder back out the door.
Once the two of them are gone, Tripp and Waylon quickly finish theirs and find excuses to leave early.
“I'll help with dishes, Momma.” I stand from my chair, grab my plate, and then offer to take Jase's.
“Are you done, Mr. Underwood?” I finally make eye contact with Fisher.
“Yes, thank you.” His polite, formal voice is a contrast to the gravelly one he whispered in my ear last weekend.
“Jase, are y'all stayin' for scrapbookin'?” Momma asks, and my heart stops.
I barely survived dinner as it is.
“Actually, I have a client pickin' me up in about ten minutes. They wanted to view a house tonight, and I said I had plans to come here, and they offered to get me. I couldn't say no.”
“I'll stay,” Fisher says, and my spine goes ramrod straight.
Damn him.
“Oh, lovely! Noah brought a bunch of photos from the fundraiser. You did such a great job judgin'. I'm sure she'd love to show them to you.”
Glancing over, I find Fisher staring at me with warmth in his eyes. “Can't wait.”
“Fisher, how're things goin' with Jase now?” Gramma Grace asks him fifteen minutes into scrapbooking.
We cleaned up the kitchen before sprawling the supplies across the table. Fisher sat next to me so I could show him the pictures. Then he proceeded to help me decorate the pages, which felt a bit too relationship-y, but if so, no one else has noticed.
“It'll be a slow process, but I'm glad he agreed to get help and is talkin’ to me. I told him some things from the past that he never knew, so he's also dealin' with that.”
“I knew he wasn't in love with our Noah, but at least, I could see the remorse on his face when he apologized. That's a big step for anyone,” Gramma says, and I blush when she brings me into the conversation.
“It is. I'm spendin' as much time with him as I can between jobs and am tryin' to be there as much as he allows it. His mom ain't my biggest fan, so I'm tacklin' that as well.”
“Mariah will come ’round, especially if she wants what's best for Jase,” Gramma offers.
“I hope so.”
“Look at this one.” Gramma holds up one of the new photos. It's me standing next to the judges’ table and Fisher's sitting closest to me. “That one's a keeper. Put it in the book.”
Her demanding tone has me slowly taking it from her, suspicious as to what she's up to now.
“Refill anyone?” Momma asks, grabbing the coffee pot.
“Yes, please.” Fisher holds up his empty mug.
“No, thanks.” I smile. “I gotta be up early to train with Donut.”
“About that...” Momma puts the pot back before sitting. “You got hurt last summer when you were doing trick ridin' with him. You need a spotter this time.”
“That wasn't my fault, though. Landen kept ridin' his dirt bike near the trainin' center and spooked him.”
“What happened?” Fisher asks.
“Nothin' really. I rolled off and scuffed up my knees. It wasn't that bad. But Donut was shaken up after that, so I didn't continue.”
“That's why you need a spotter this week if you're gonna practice.”
“Momma, I don't need that. I've already warned the boys they aren't allowed to come around the center before nine o’clock. That's why I'm startin' early.”
“Don't matter, sweetie. Can't risk ya gettin' hurt. You have clients countin’ on you. Plus, y’all give me heart attacks with your antics as it is. I don’t need you to give me a real one because you’re in the hospital.”
“I agree,” Dad chimes in from the head of the table. He's been reading the newspaper this whole time. I didn't even think he was listening.
My shoulders slump as I fight the urge to stomp my foot like a pouting child. Have I not proven myself enough around here?
I wave out my arm and shrug. “Well, who am I supposed to ask at the last minute? The ranch hands are all busy through lunchtime. I can't sit around and wait for one of them to come and babysit me. I have a schedule to stick to and—”
“I'll do it,” Fisher blurts out next to me.
I whip my head around toward him. “What?”
“I'll come in an hour earlier so you can have a spotter. That way, you don't have to worry about waitin' on anyone else.” He shrugs and lowers his eyes down to the scrapbook as if he didn't just ruin everything.
How am I supposed to focus on training with Fisher watching my every move?
“That's a great idea!” Gramma smiles wide. “Fisher has experience handlin' bulls. I'm sure he can handle Donut just fine.”
I pinch my lips together and narrow my eyes at Gramma Grace. Now I know for sure she's up to something.
“I like that idea,” Dad says. “Donut's already familiar with him, too.”
“Now I feel much better knowin' Fisher will be there,” Momma gushes.
I exhale sharply. “Fine. Come at seven thirty.”
“I'll be there,” he confirms.