33 | Findin peace
CLEMENTINE
“More pie, sugar?” Mama’s hand hovers over my plate, pie server loaded.
“Mama, if I eat another bite, you’re gonna have to roll me out of here in a wheelbarrow.” I lean back in my seat, head tipping to the side. My eyes catch on Colton, sitting next to me and smiling like he just won a prize.
“Tea?” he asks, already reaching for the pitcher.
I shake my head, laughing. “Alright, you two need to back off,” I say, pushing my plate away. “If this is gonna be a regular thing, I can’t have you stuffing me like a turkey. I’d never be able to get on a horse again, which I’d like to. Maybe. Some day.”
Tessa, who’s been mostly quiet all night, pushes her chair back. “I’m goin’ for a walk,” she announces. “If anyone wants to come?”
Wells sets his fork down. “Sure, I’ll—”
“Not you.” She cuts him a look.
Wells exhales, resigned. “Guess I’m on cleanup duty.”
Tessa’s eyes flick to mine, daring. “Anyone else?”
I arch a brow. “Eh… I was actually thinking a walk might be a good idea,” I say, hesitating.
She nods, satisfied. “It’s good for digestion.”
I send Colton a helpless look, but he squeezes my thigh under the table, and that’s all the encouragement I need.
“I’ll help with the dishes after, Mama,” I say, pushing to my feet.
She waves me off. “I raised two strong, capable men and a son-in-law I’m still trainin’. I ain’t washin’ no dishes, and neither are you. Colton, Wells, Sawyer—help your old Mama out, will you?”
The men rise without complaint and start clearing the table.
Mama jerks her chin toward the door. “Go on, then. Take that walk.”
I follow Tessa out into the night.
We don’t go far—just past the barn—but apparently, the distance is enough to give her the courage she needs.
“Are you really movin’ back?” she asks, her fingers fumbling with the hem of her shirt.
I glance over, surprised. “Yeah. I haven’t quit my job yet, and I’m still on my apartment lease, but within the next month or so, I should be moving.”
She nods, looking toward the horizon. “For Colton.”
I turn sharply. “No—not for Colton. For… for me.”
She meets my gaze, voice softer now. “Good.”
Silence settles between us, filled only by the hum of crickets in the distance. The air smells like grass and warm soil, and somewhere in the dark, a horse snorts.
Tessa leans back against a fencepost, wrapping her arms around herself.
“I used to hate those sounds,” she says after a beat.
“The bugs and the frogs and the damn owls.”
She lets out a brittle laugh. “Then we traveled. Turns out I can’t sleep without it now—had to look up cricket white noise just to fall asleep. Guess you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.”
I lean beside her, our shoulders nearly brushing. “I haven’t missed the city noise a second since I’ve been back here.”
“Yeah.” She smiles faintly. “Guess maybe you only miss what you grew up hearin’.”
“Maybe home sounds different for everyone.”
Tessa shakes her head. “It sounds the same for both of us.”
A lump rises in my throat. “I guess so.”
The wind shifts, the warm breeze lifting my hair off my shoulder.
Tessa looks at me. “I know it’s not the same between us, but I’m glad you’re back, Clem.”
I nod, eyes stinging. “Me too.”
She drags a shaky hand through her hair. “I wanted to reach out so many times, but I was too ashamed. I know I did this to myself, but losin’ you was like losin’ a piece of me.”
“I know the feeling,” I whisper, my throat tight.
Her voice cracks. “I think I cursed myself, stealin’ Sawyer from you the way I did.”
My brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“Sawyer and I—” she swallows—“we’ve been tryin’ for a baby. Two years now.”
My heart lurches. “Tessa…”
She shakes her head quickly, eyes glossy. “It’s fine. It’s just—” She laughs, broken and small. “It’s funny, right? I spent my whole damn life takin’ things that weren’t mine, and now the one thing I want most… I can’t have.”
“Tess, that’s not—”
“I keep thinkin’ maybe it’s karma,” she whispers. “For what I did to you. For how bad I hurt you.”
My throat burns. “You don’t deserve that,” I say softly. “Nobody does.”
Her lip trembles, and for the first time in years, she looks like my best friend again—the girl who used to braid my hair before school, and who snuck peach schnapps into prom.
I wrap an arm around her, and she lets out a shaky breath that breaks into a sob against my shoulder.
“I’m so tired of bein’ sad,” she cries. “Tired of feelin’ that longin’ all the time. And I can’t even talk to anyone about it. The worst part is, I did this to myself.”
I rub her back, my own eyes stinging. “Don’t say that, Tess. You’re not to blame. Sometimes it just takes a little longer. I’m so sorry you’re going through this—if it’s any consolation, I’d love to see a little baby version of you two.”
I tilt my head back toward the stars, cup my hands around my mouth, and yell, “I forgive them, universe! Send them some baby dust, please!”
Tessa giggles through her tears, dragging my hands down. “Stop yellin’, you fool, you’ll wake the damn calves.”
She leans into me again, quiet except for her soft breathing. We sit there a long while, watching the silver moon above the barn.
Finally, she pulls back enough to meet my eyes, cheeks streaked with tears. “I’ve missed you, Clem.”
I smile through the ache in my chest. “I’ve missed you too.”
----
When we come back up the porch steps, the house has gone quiet except for the low hum of conversation from the kitchen. Tessa smiles over her shoulder before stepping inside.
Wells is leaning against the porch rail, a toothpick tucked in the corner of his mouth, watching as I approach. He gives me a lazy grin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you walkin’ side by side again without somebody bleedin’.”
I huff a laugh, brushing past him to sink onto the porch swing. “It seems we’ve grown up a little in these past seven years.”
“Grown up? You?” He drawls it out, amused. “Maybe in attitude—sure as hell not in height.”
I snort, tipping my head back. “Alright, I’ve made peace with one McGraw. Guess I can afford beef with another.”
He chuckles, pushing off the railing to sit beside me, the swing creaking under our combined weight. For a while, neither of us says anything. We just listen to Mama’s laughter and the clatter of dishes drifting out through the kitchen window.
Wells tilts his head, glancing toward the window where Colton’s silhouette moves through the kitchen. “You know,” he says quietly, “I ain’t seen my brother this happy in… hell, maybe ever.”
My heart squeezes. “He seems good,” I say softly.
“He is. ’Cause of you.” He doesn’t say it like a compliment—more like a fact, plain and certain.
“That man’s been runnin’ himself ragged over the ranch for years now. Woke up before dawn, went to bed after midnight. Wouldn’t so much as look at another woman. Every time I asked him why, he’d just say, ‘Ain’t her.’ Took me a while to realize who ‘her’ was.”
My heart skips a beat. Heat creeps up my neck. “You’re making me blush, Wells.”
He grins, elbow nudging mine. “Don’t get used to it. He does the buildin’ up—I get to do the tearin’ down. Brotherly love and all.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re not my brother, though.”
“Won’t be long until I’m your brother-in-law, I bet. But I mean it, Clem.” His voice softens, and for once, he drops the teasing. “He used to look out over the fields like he was waitin’ on somethin’ to come back to him. And now he just looks at you. Like the wait’s over.”
My throat tightens, heart slamming against my ribs. I stare down at my hands, fidgeting with my nails. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, Wells. I just… I want to try.”
“That’s all he’s ever wanted.” He stretches, the swing rocking slightly. “A chance.”
He stands, patting the top of my head affectionately. “Alright, let’s go find him before he comes lookin’. He gets twitchy when you disappear too long.”
He pulls me to my feet, and I follow him inside—into a house full of McGraws, none of whom I’ve got beef with.
----
How did we like this chapter? Wholesome, right? ????