Chapter 24
ALLYSON
Imentally check off that everyone’s here, all the food contributions are in Mama Louise’s kitchen, and with a look around, I can tell the fun has already started.
The boys are running wild like they’ve never had this much space and fresh air, their joyful shouts echoing across the land. “Look at all the trees!” Johnathan says, spinning in a circle so fast I’m surprised he stays vertical.
Oops, spoke too soon, I think as he tumbles to the ground. He doesn’t seem any worse for wear, though, as he laughs it off before hopping up.
“All right, gather up,” Bruce says, clapping his hands loudly.
The boys scramble to pile in around him, but the parents come over too, naturally drawn to Bruce’s charisma. I can’t blame them. I’m just as pulled into him, the fight I initially put up all but useless and utterly forgotten at this point.
He seems at home out here, completely in his element. It’s a good look in dusty jeans, a T-shirt that lets the tattoo on his bicep peek out as he moves, well-worn work boots, and a ballcap that’s currently turned backward as he squats down to rally the troops.
“Okay, so out here, we’re in charge. Me, my brothers, and the Bennetts, and most of all, the scariest person you’ll ever meet in your entire life .
. . Mama Louise.” Bruce gestures at each of the men standing back to offer mean mug glares and ends with the small blonde who looks like she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Mama Louise gives a smile and a wave.
A few of the boys giggle like Bruce is joking, and Mama Louise’s smile falls, turning into the best mom glare I’ve ever seen.
I need her to teach me that because every boy and even a few of the adults straighten right up.
I even hear Killian say “Sorry, ma’am.” She flips a switch and smiles again, like all is forgiven.
“My sister, Shayanne” —Bruce points her out to everyone— “is in charge of every animal as far as you’re concerned. You don’t so much as let one sniff you without her saying it’s okay. And remember, what’s the meanest animal out here?”
He looks around the circle, and I expect the kids to answer with something like a bull or an old horse, but they laugh instead and Cooper shouts out, “Chickens! They’ll peck your hands even as you feed them.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but all the boys seem to think it’s hilarious.
“Okay, who’s ready for a tour then?”
Twelve skinny arms shoot up, and a few parents raise their hands too.
I wiggle my fingers in the air, wanting a tour even though Bruce took me on one not too long ago.
How can that be? It seems like a lifetime ago, and so much has changed since the day I came stomping out here mad as a hornet, ready to rip Bruce a new one.
We walk, taking the same paths he took me on, through the smaller garden areas and then the larger fields with him telling the kids all about everything they see and life on a working farm.
They listen raptly to his every word, following him like the Pied Piper.
Eventually, we end up in the orchard, and Bruce plucks down a peach to show the boys how to tell when they’re ripe.
“These are the last ones of the season. The late bloomers, the ones that took just a bit longer to ripen and be ready, but you know what?” He pauses, and every eye is on him.
“Just because they didn’t ripen first doesn’t mean they’re any less delicious.
Each one is ready in its own time, and when that time’s right, they’re perfect—just as they are, when they are.
” He takes big chomp out of the peach in his hand, the juiciness dripping down his fingers as he smiles at the sweet flavor. “Just right.”
Yes, he is.
Bruce Tannen is better with words than he thinks he is.
He’s better with kids than I think he expected himself to be, too.
He was this beast on the football field, and I know people anticipate certain things from him off the field too.
The reality of who he is is so much deeper.
I feel lucky to be one of the few people who get to see that side of him because while he used to be an open book, I know he’s been more the brooding type for quite some time.
But still waters run deep when it comes to him.
A soft smile stretches my lips and Cooper takes my hand. He’s quiet, talking only to me. “I don’t think he’s just talking about peaches, Mom. You think maybe I’ll be ready one day too?”
I look down at my son, seeing the beautiful, happy boy he is to me.
But I know he’s struggled. He’s smaller than the other boys and can’t cash the checks his mouth writes just yet.
I tell him honestly, “I think you’re already perfect just the way you are now, honey.
You’ll still grow and ripen a bit more, just like those peaches, but you’re doing so well. I love you.”
He grins for just a flash and then cringes. “Mom, don’t get mushy!” But despite his protests, I think he heard me loud and clear. The devil is in his eyes as he challenges me, “Besides, if you keep getting riper, eventually, you’ll rot!”
He runs off, but he’s dragging his left leg and his arms are outstretched in front of him like some waywardly drunk zombie. “Zombie touch!” he shouts, tagging Johnathan, who mimics the weird run.
Soon, all the boys are screaming, either to get away from the zombies or because they are one.
Kids are weird and great. The other parents seem to agree as we watch the spontaneous game of tag erupt. Eventually, we get pulled into it too when Evan tags Mike.
Mike acts offended. “Me? Your own father?” But still, he runs off with Evan to tag more people. I’m glad he was able to come today. I know it was hard for him to get the day off and not need to sleep, but he knew how much the boys would want to see their old coach.
After everyone’s a zombie, we decide to take a break and head back to the barn.
Shayanne allows a few boys at a time into the yard with her goats, and I pull out my new phone to take pictures of each boy holding Baaarbara.
The ornery goat seems to enjoy all the attention, licking faces and bleating happily.
“She thinks she’s a dog,” Joshua says as he wipes away a bit of spit from his cheek. Johnathan laughs at his brother’s grossly silly predicament until Baaarbara leans back and licks him too.
“You’re probably just a bit salty from sweating in the sun,” Shayanne explains, showing us how the goats like their salt lick.
“Wanna know a goat fact to surprise your friends?” The boys nod, and Shayanne continues her lesson.
“They don’t eat everything, though I bet you’ve heard they do.
But nope, not true. Their favorite food is hay, and they’ll eat some fruits and veggies too. ”
With that, she brings out a bucket of raisins. “One handful each, sprinkle them around or just hold your hand out, and they’ll eat them all.” The boys’ grubby hands fight to get into the bucket at once, but eventually, everyone has some fruit and is feeding the nearest goat.
“This is awesome,” Liam exclaims, and all the boys agree loudly.
“Ready for something even more fun?” Luke drawls out. “A birdie told me that he promised some muddin’ to one of you.”
Cooper’s eyes go as big as dinner plates and his hand waves through the air. “Me! Coach B said he’d take me muddin’!”
Bruce grins and runs his hand through Cooper’s hair in a familiar move that makes my heart sing. “Cooper’s first, and then we’ll take turns. Sound good, guys?”
“YEAH!” they all yell, following Bruce as he opens the goat pen gate, careful to keep the animals inside as the boys escape.
Over a hill, we pass by a big pond. James tells everyone about how this piece of land is the most important of the entire property because it lets them have a constant water source.
“We use it for swimming most of the time, but earlier today, we pumped some out for a very special reason. Just over there.” He points to the other side of the ridge, and the boys run up so fast that I can’t keep up, even with the practice warm-ups doing wonders for my mile time. But they freeze at the top of the hill.
“Whoa,” Liam says.
Finally, I get there and see what’s got the boys’ attention. There’s a small oval dug into the grass, just the top layer of grass scrubbed off, and with the addition of water from the pond, it’s a mud track. There’s a two-seater Gator sitting there, ready to roll.
Bruce loads Cooper in the passenger seat, buckling him up tight.
He loans him a pair of goggles and a helmet and then double-checks the seatbelt again.
He’s so careful and attentive, and there’s something so sexy about his being fatherly.
I mean, coachlike. Yeah, that . . . that’s for sure what I meant.
No, it’s not.
I remember telling him that Cooper and I are a package deal. I fully expected him to bolt. Most guys would, I think, so I’d been spoiling for a fight as a means of self-preservation.
But Bruce doubled down, saying he wanted a chance to love me and Cooper. And he asked me out on a for-real, official date. He’s more than I could ever hope to find mixed up with something I’d already found once.
My heart constricts tight in my chest and then unfurls, its racing pace making me want to run to Bruce and tell him that I’m sorry. For not having faith back then, for fighting us, for being scared, for being damaged, but not for being hopelessly, deeply in love with him.
Again.
But I can’t, not yet. Not while Cooper is laughing wildly, screaming with excitement as they speed around the loop.
They’re not going very fast, but the loud engine roars, making it seem dangerous and rowdy.
When they come to a stop, Bruce helps Cooper out and does the same safety checks for the next boy.
“Mom! Did you see me? I went muddin’ and did so good! Vroom, vroom.” Cooper’s voice is high-pitched and loud, full of excitement. I listen as he gives me the play by play of every turn he made, having almost as much fun in the retelling as he did in the Gator.
“I did see, honey! You did so well,” I correct out of habit, but he doesn’t even hear it.
“Coach B is the coolest, isn’t he, Mom?” Cooper asks, looking up at me.
His cheeks are bright pink from the little bit of wind whipping him as they drove around.
As I scan his blue eyes, so clear and bright, I search for any doubts, any nerves, any fears, but find none.
He is the happy, healthy, innocent boy I wanted him to be.
“He is, Cooper,” I agree, looking back out to the OHV spinning mud into the air. But I don’t see the messy, dirty craziness. I see the future—one with excitement and safety, love and security. A future with Bruce.