Chapter 8
Eight
Copeland
“Can I get you anything?” I ask Mom. She’s currently set up on the couch, resting.
She had her drains removed today from her lymph node removal, which was last Monday.
After our first meeting with the oncologist, things started moving quickly.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that they have.
I’m thrilled that she’s getting the care that she is, but damn, it’s a lot to process.
“No. I’m fine,” she says. “Why don’t you go out. Call your friends, see what they’re up to. Have you even seen them since you’ve been home?”
“Not yet, but you’re my priority. I’m not leaving you here alone,” I tell her, just as there’s a knock at the door. “Expecting someone?” I ask her.
“As a matter of fact, I am. A few of the ladies from my quilting group are stopping by for a visit.” She seems to sit up a little straighter, only slightly wincing from the pain. She’s supposed to keep taking it easy.
“That’s great,” I say, as I move toward the door to let them in. As soon as I pull it open, they rush past me and toward my mom. All three of them are carrying a gift bag or food. “Nice to see you, ladies.” I chuckle, closing the door.
“You can go,” Betty tells me. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“She’ll be fine,” Wanda adds. “We’ve got this. Go do what a handsome young man your age should do on a Friday night.” She waves her hand in the air.
“I’m afraid to ask what you think that might be,” I say, biting my cheek to hold in my laughter. If only they knew how boring my life has been over the years.
“Oh, we know.” Edith waggles her eyebrows at me. “We were your age once upon a time.”
“I was just telling Copeland he needs to go catch up with his friends. He’s been home over a month and has yet to spend any time with them,” Mom tells her friends.
She’s right. I’ve kept in touch with Bowen, Macklin, and Dixon over the years, but things have never been the same since I came home from boot camp for a surprise visit. That’s not something I need to be thinking about right now. Mom… that’s where my focus needs to be.
“Mom, you just had surgery.”
“Last week,” she says, shaking her head, a soft smile pulling at her lips. “I have my friends here with me. You should go see yours.”
“We’ll stay until you get home,” Edith assures me.
I hesitate, but the four of them start chatting, and my mom is smiling, enjoying her time with her friends.
I guess it’s time for me to see mine. They’ll understand why it’s taken me so long to come and see them.
Magnolia Ridge is a small town, and from all the casseroles and phone calls, I know that word of Mom’s illness has spread.
“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll go to The Hideaway for a bit. I won’t be out long, and I’ll have my phone on me. Call me if you need anything at all.”
“I will,” Mom promises. “Now go. Visit.”
Bending, I kiss her cheek as the ladies ignore, then grab my keys and head out the door.
It’s a short drive to the Hideaway, and from the looks of the parking lot, it’s a full house tonight.
Bowen always used to say he was going to open his own bar.
He made it happen, and I’m proud of him.
I’m not sure I’ve ever told him that. I need to.
He’s not the only one. Macklin always swore he was going to join the bull riding circuit, and he did that, as well.
He was at the top of his game when he retired.
I called him to congratulate him and asked why he retired so early.
He told me he wanted to be able to enjoy life and not end up living in pain from injuries.
He’d invested well and made a good living; it was time for him to come home. Home to him was still Magnolia Ridge.
Then there’s Dixon. He’s always loved working on cars, and he, too, made that dream a career.
Out of the four of us, I was the only one who deviated from the plan.
That causes an ache in my chest, because no matter the phone calls and the text messages over the years, I’m not a part of their lives.
It’s going to be hard to get that connection back—if we even can.
That’s a reality that I’ll have to learn to live with if that’s the case.
Grabbing my phone out of the cupholder and my keys out of the ignition, I climb out of my truck and make my way inside.
I’m not even to the door yet, and the slow twang of a country song greets me.
Walking inside, I scan my surroundings, something I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing after my years as a Marine.
I’m also taking it all in, witnessing for the first time in person, my best friend’s dream coming true before my eyes.
The place is packed, and the dance floor is full of couples, swaying to the beat of Koe Wetzel over the sound system. After pushing my way through the crowd, I settle at the bar and order a beer. I’m driving, so this will be it for me tonight. I might as well get it over with and out of the way.
“Thanks.” I nod to the bartender, passing him some cash and waving him off when he asks if I need change. The bottle is barely to my lips when someone steps up beside me.
“Am I seeing things?” Dixon asks.
I don’t bother with my first drink. Instead, I place the bottle on the bar and hug one of my best friends. Fuck, it’s been too damn long. “Hey, Dix,” I say, slapping him on the back, before pulling out of the hug.
“How’s your mom?”
I nod. “She’s hanging in there. She’s a fighter.”
“I know she is. The guys and I wanted to come see you, but we knew you had a lot on your plate.”
“You’re always welcome,” I tell him.
“Yeah, as long as it’s on your turf, or your mom’s turf.” He chuckles.
“Venturing out into town wasn’t something I was interested in. You know that,” I say, this time taking a long pull of my beer.
“I know, but you’re home for good now, right?” His voice is hesitant, as if he’s always afraid to hear my answer.
“Yeah, Dix. I’m home for good,” I tell him.
“So, no more hiding from her?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the p. I never hid from my friends why I wanted to avoid town on my visits home.
“We’ve got a table. Why don’t you join us?” he offers.
“Who’s we?”
“Me, Mack, and Bo. He’s supervising from our table.” He laughs.
“I don’t want to impose.”
Dixon rolls his eyes. “What the fuck, Cope? Grab your beer.” He signals the bartender and holds up two fingers, then points to their table. I guess one of them isn’t drinking. My guess is Bowen, since this is his place.
“Look who I found,” Dixon says as he pulls out a chair and takes a seat.
“No shit?” Macklin stands and pulls me into a hug, then Bowen does the same, before I settle next to Macklin, where Bowen and Dixon sit across from us. “Glad you’re home, brother.” Macklin tilts his beer bottle toward me, almost in salute.
“Good to be home.” I mean every word. I’ve missed out on so much by letting my pain keep me away. It’s only been a little over a month since I’ve been back, and already, I know I should have stuck with the plan, no matter what I was coming home to.
“How’s your mom?” Bowen asks.
I nod. “Hanging in there. She’s geared up for a fight.”
“I told him we were going to reach out, but wanted him to get acclimated a little before we bombarded him,” Dixon explains.
“We knew you had a lot going on,” Macklin tells me.
“Yeah, it’s been a lot, but Mom’s a trooper. She’s taking it all in stride, and her spirits are up. In fact, she’s at home with Edith, Betty, and Wanda. They all but kicked me out of the house.”
“Spitfires, the lot of them.” Dixon laughs.
“That they are, but I’m glad they’re there for her. I know Chandler and I have been driving Mom out of her mind, holding her and asking her how she’s feeling or if she needs anything.”
“That’s tough.” Bowen nods.
“I don’t know what else I can do, you know? I mean, she’s fighting for her life, battling this terrible fucking disease, and all we can do is sit back and watch.” I shake my head because fuck cancer.
“We’re here if there is anything we can do,” Macklin tells me.
“We got you,” Dixon agrees, and Bowen nods, letting me know he’s also in for anything we might need.
Glass shattering pulls Bowen’s focus to the bar. He sighs and stands. “New girl” is all he says as he walks off.
I turn to watch him walk away, and my breath stalls in my lungs.
Ellison.
She’s laughing with her best friend, Kinzie, and they move toward the bar. She’s wearing faded blue jeans that look as though they were painted on, a black T-shirt, and her hair is hanging down her back. She’s not all dolled up, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“What are you—?” Macklin asks as he turns to follow my gaze. “Ah.” He nods. “Did we forget to mention Ellison and Kinzie are here?”
“Might have,” I say, draining what’s left of my beer.
“You good?” Dixon asks.
“Nope,” I tell him honestly.
“Do you need to go?”
“No. I just— Fuck.” I run my fingers over my head. It’s been a little over a month, and my hair is already growing out. It feels weird, but also right at the same time. As if I’ve been living someone else’s life for the last seventeen years, and finally, I get to be me.
“Have you seen her yet?” Macklin asks.
“Yeah, a few times. I’m actually staying at the Manor. Mom claims the rooms at her place are full, and I didn’t want to impose on Chandler and Macie,” I explain.
“Okay, first of all, did you check the rooms?” Dixon asks.
“What?” I ask, my brain still trying to comprehend that she’s here, and she’s not mine.
“The rooms, Copeland. Did you check them?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Amateur.” Macklin shakes his head.
“Care to fill me in?” I ask my friends, still keeping my eyes on Ellison.
“Yeah, you were here, what? Six months ago?” Dixon asks.
“I was.”
“And where did you stay?” Macklin asks.
“Mom’s,” I say, then mutter, “Motherfucker.”
Macklin cackles with laughter. “Momma James played you, brother.”