25. Jack
Jack
Chapters by Trenton Tanner
I spot her the second the hospital automatic doors slide open at Bridger Falls Memorial.
Teresa Kendrick, otherwise known as Cami and Ollie's mom.She looks nothing like her daughter, as Cami always looked more like her grandmother.
Teresa’s hair is pulled back in a tight bun that looks uncomfortable.
Her scrubs are wrinkled, and a frown is etched deep into her face like it’s lived there for years.
She looks exhausted, probably not just from the night shift she just pulled.
Teresa has been an unhappy person for a while, and everyone in town knows it.
She slows when she sees me, folds her arms over her chest, and glares.
Figures I’d be the last person she'd want to run into at the end of her shift. But I’m not here for small talk.
I hold up the coffee. “Peace offering."
Her gaze darts to the paper cup in my hand, then back to my face. “What do you want? Is this some kind of trap?” she mutters, tugging her jacket tighter around her.
“Nope,” I say calmly, shaking my head. “Just coffee. And conversation.”
She hesitates. Looks over towards her car and then back at me. “You’ve got five minutes.”
It’s more than I expected that she'd give me.
She walks over slowly, like she’s still not convinced I’m not here to do something. I hand her the coffee, and she takes it with a sigh, wrapping her hands around it like it might burn through the chill in the air, and whatever guard she has up.
We lean against the hood of my truck in the half-empty parking lot. The sun’s just starting to rise. The air smells like cold pavement and coffee.
“I’m not here to start anything,” I say. “I just want to talk.”
She looks at me over the lid of her cup. “What do you want to talk about?"
I glance over at her, sizing her up. “Do you love your daughter?”
Her shoulders are stiff.“Of course I do,” she snaps, as if I’ve insulted her.
“Then why don’t you show it?” I counter, softly.
That one lands, and she flinches. She blinks and looks away. “She’s… hard.”
“Hard?” I echo, feeling pissed off, but holding it back. “Hard what? Hard to love?”
She flinches like I’ve slapped her. She doesn’t answer, just looks down at her cup.
I press on, my voice low but steady. “She’s not hard to love. Loving her is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t even have to try. I just do. It’s like breathing.”
Teresa doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But she looks surprised .
“I wake up thinking about her. Wondering what she’s doing that day.
If she’s eaten. I wonder why she’s still trying to do everything on her own.
If she knows how amazing she is. How loved she is.
And yeah, she’s stubborn. She’s sharp. She doesn’t make it easy to get in.
But if she lets you in?” I shake my head, throat tight. “It’s the best kind of love there is.”
Teresa stares out across the parking lot like she can’t meet my eyes anymore.“She’s been angry with me for so long. Probably since she was a teenager."
“She was a kid,” I say. “And kids don’t get angry without a reason. They get hurt. They get abandoned. They get tired of fighting for scraps of affection.”
“She didn’t make it easy,” she says, voice rough.
“She’s a girl who lost everything. Her dad abandoned her over and over. She lost her grandparents, the ranch, the one place that felt safe, and she’s still fighting to keep it all together. She didn’t need you to make it easy. She just needed you to be there. ”
Teresa swallows. Her eyes are glassy now, rimmed red from more than just the night shift. “I don't know how to get there,” she whispers.
"But the real question is, do you want to? Because that’s what I’m here to find out today. You see, I love your daughter. I’m going to marry her someday. We’re going to have a family. And whether or not you get to be a part of that family is dependent upon how you act moving forward.”
She turns to look at me, her face full of surprise. “Of course I love her. I’m her mother.”
“Just because you’re a parent doesn’t mean you love your kid. I need to know whether you’re going to get your shit straight or not. Because I can’t have you tearing her up. I won’t have it. You’re either in or you’re out, Teresa. You gotta pick one. ”
“I’m in,” she whispers. Then she looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. “She must really love you.”
“She trusts me,” I say. “Because I’ve never made her feel like she was too much. And I never will.”
A tear slips down her cheek. She doesn’t wipe it away.
I look over at her. “She doesn’t need you to be a perfect mom. Just be willing to try. You don’t have to know what to say. Just show up. Let her be messy. Let her be mad. And love her anyway. You do it for Ollie. You need to do it for her.”
Her lip trembles and she nods. “She’s never told me she needed me,” she says quietly.
“She won’t,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t.”
We stand there in silence, the weight of it all hanging between us. The sun is higher now, casting gold across the hood of the truck.
I nod toward her car. “You should go home now and get some rest.”
She nods slowly, steps back toward her vehicle. Then pauses.
“Jack,” she says as she turns back around. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me what I’ve been missing. I've missed her.”
I pull Teresa in for a hug, and she pats my back and holds me. She needed this.
I watch her drive away, my chest full of hope and ache and something heavier. Missing my own mom.
Because Cami doesn’t know it yet, but someone’s finally fighting for her in a way she never dared ask for. And I’ll keep doing it. Every damn day.
I know something’s off the second Cami walks into the barn.
She’s too quiet. No stomping or muttering under her breath about the show annoying her or Beau baking. Just her boots against the concrete and the soft sound of her breath catching in her throat.
I look up from where I’m brushing Pesto. The second I see her face, I straighten.
She’s pale. Eyes wide. Like she’s been hit with something heavy and didn’t see it coming.
“Wilder?” I say gently, setting the brush down. “What happened?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at me. Searching. As if I’ve turned into someone she doesn’t recognize. Or maybe someone she’s seeing clearly for the first time.
“My mom came by Steamy Sips today,” she says, voice soft. Almost dazed. “Just now.”
I wipe my hands on my jeans, my heart thudding. “Yeah?”
“She… she brought me dinner.”
That makes me pause.
“She’s never done that,” Cami adds, blinking.
I swallow hard staying quiet.
“She said she was sorry.” Her voice cracks. “She said she’s not good at this, but she’s going to try. And then she said... she talked to you.”
Ah. There it is. I wondered if she’d tell her we talked. I nod once. “Yeah.”
Her lips press into a line, and she looks at me, confused. “Why?”
I shrug, but it’s not casual. Not even close. “Because I don't want you to hurt anymore.”
Her breath hitches.
“And I know what it feels like to grow up thinking you have to earn love,” I say, stepping closer. “And trying to be strong all the damn time. But you shouldn’t have to fight that hard, Wilder.”
Her eyes shine. She blinks fast, like she’s mad at herself for crying. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I say softly. “But I wanted to.”
Her chin trembles. “She said… you told her loving me is easy.”
“I did.”
“You said it’s like breathing.”
I nod again. “Because it is.”
A tear slips down her cheek. She swipes at it quickly, like she’s still trying to be tough. But her voice betrays her. “No one’s ever fought for me like that.”
I step in fully now, closing the space between us.
I take her face in my hands, gentle but steady, like I’m holding something sacred.
“I will,” I say. “Every damn day. Whether or not you let me in, Wilder, I’m gonna keep showing up.
I’m gonna love you when you’re fiery and loud and when you’re quiet and scared.
I’m gonna love you when you don’t think you deserve it and when you push me away and when you’re trying so damn hard not to need anyone. I'm going to do it even harder.”
She lets out a choked sound, half laugh, half sob, and then she kisses me. Hard. Desperate. Shaking. Like she’s trying to memorize this moment. Like she’s finally letting go of the weight she’s been carrying for years.
I kiss her back with everything I have. Every word I haven’t said. Every promise I’ve already made with my actions. Like sealing it all with this kiss.
When we break apart, she leans her forehead against mine. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Thank you.”
I close my eyes and smile. “You’re pretty damn easy to love, Wilder. ”
She breathes out a laugh. “Still going to give you hell, Jessop."
“Wouldn't expect anything less.”
She doesn’t argue. She just leans into me, finally soft. Finally safe.
And I hold her like I never plan on letting go. She can call me her business partner all she wants. I’m not her business partner. I’m her life partner. She just hasn’t figured that out yet.