Chapter 15 Everett
EVERETT
Iwake when the sun rises.
It’s a habit so ingrained after decades of working on the ranch that I doubt I’ll ever break it.
As much as I’d love to sleep in today, I’m not all that upset.
Mary’s still asleep, curled onto my chest and breathing softly.
The blankets are pulled up to her waist, leaving the swell of her breasts free to my gaze.
Waking up early is worth it to watch the sunrise shift from purple to pink to orange on her skin.
I lean down to brush a strand of hair away from her cheek so I can press a kiss there.
There’s nothing that I’d like more than to lounge in bed with her, but there’s still work to be done.
We’re down a man today, since Al is recovering from heat-stroke, and I can’t afford to waste time.
He’s the one who keeps track of what needs to happen day to day, which means that I have to figure out exactly what I need everyone to do.
Knowing him, there’s probably a list somewhere in the office, but that won’t account for him being out today and the time I’ll be off the ranch picking him up.
As quietly as I can, I untangle myself from her arms and slip out of bed.
She pouts sleepily, groping around the empty bed until she comes across my pillow and pulls it toward her. I’m more than a little grateful that she’s asleep, because I’m positive the smile on my face is huge and embarrassingly sappy.
I manage to gather my clothes without getting distracted again, and I smile over at her one last time before slipping out into the hallway.
A shower is in order. I hate the idea of washing the scent of her off my skin, but I know I’ll be able to indulge myself again soon.
The collar of my shirt still smells like her perfume, and that’ll have to be enough for now.
I trudge my way down the hall with that in mind, but I don’t pay much attention as I go through the motions of getting ready.
My thoughts are on Mary as I step into my own bedroom and pull out work clothes.
I haven’t had anything more than a passing attraction to anyone since Laura died, if that.
Mary totally consumes my thoughts in a way I’m totally unprepared for.
There hasn’t been someone I want to take care of like this in my life for so long, I almost don’t know what to do with the feeling.
I brush my teeth and speed through a shower as I mull over how I want to handle this.
I don’t want to rush into anything, but my attempts at slowing myself down haven’t been what I’d call successful. She pulls me in like a magnet, and it feels like there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I don’t want to stop it, anyway.
I want more with her. More than I know how to ask for.
I want to tell her about my life before her, about my wants and dreams and how everything has been too hard to handle on my own.
It’s a lot to think about, and I want to have the right words when I talk to Mary about it.
I’ve always thought better when my hands are busy, and it’s high time I get my ass to work anyway.
I’ll just have to toss ideas around in my head on my way to check on Al.
Hopefully, he’ll be back on his feet by tomorrow.
I’ll still be keeping an eye on him until he’s back a hundred percent, and if I can convince him to stay in the office for a few days, it’ll make my heart beat a little easier.
I’ve probably been taking everything he does for me for granted anyway. A bit of rest is well in order for him, and maybe it’ll show just how appreciative of all his work I am. I’m better with actions than I am with words, and he knows me well enough to understand that.
I pull my clothes on and decide to grab a cup of coffee on my way out. Mary managed to get the ancient coffee maker working last week after complaining that she needed caffeine to survive. It even manages to make a pot in the morning on the timer she set.
I wasn’t able to figure out how to fix the damn thing, and it’s been gathering dust for a year, but she managed to get it good as new in five minutes. Who said the woman didn’t know anything about real work?
I’m smiling to myself as I head toward the kitchen, and I realize that I’m actually hopeful for how the day will go.
My hope gets clotheslined when I round the corner to the kitchen.
“Jenny,” I say.
My daughter doesn’t lift her head, busy poring over the stack of mail piled on the table. I wince, hoping there’s nothing important in there. I’ve just kind of been tossing it on the table and saying I’ll look at it later for the last week.
“Hello,” she says, distracted.
“You’re back.”
She’s supposed to be gone until the end of the week, and it’s only Tuesday. I check my phone at least once a day, and I know she didn’t say anything about getting home early in the last text she sent me.
“Wow,” she drawls, rolling her eyes as she raises her head to look at me. “Should’ve been a detective with observational skills like that.”
I bite back a scowl, but can’t suppress my frown. Is it too much to ask for a single day of peace before we begin sniping at each other?
“Good morning,” I try again. “How was your flight?”
“Shit,” she says with a shrug. “I didn’t get any sleep.”
I nod, casting around for something else to say. Jennifer doesn’t lift her head from the stack of bills, seemingly uninterested in helping me carry a conversation.
“It’s good to see you,” I say.
She doesn’t answer that at all.
“What are you doing back early?”
She snorts out a laugh at me as I cross the kitchen to get myself a cup of coffee. If I didn’t have to check on Al and then work all day, I might be tempted to slip some whiskey in, too.
“I do live here, you know,” she says drily. “What’s your problem with me being at home? You’re obviously not staying on top of things on your own.”
I turn, coffee in hand, to see her waving an envelope in frustration.
“I wanted to make sure you weren’t ruining everything with the marketing lady, but I come home to all this,” she says, frowning heavily at me. “There are four of these, Dad. Do you know what they are?”
I staunchly refuse to answer her. She’s going to tear me a new one about whatever it is anyway, so I might as well deny her the satisfaction of admitting that I haven’t glanced at a single thing in the stack.
I sip lazily at my coffee instead of responding.
“Well, since you’re obviously so curious, “ she says scathingly, “they’re invoices.”
Bills, what a shock.
“Overdue balance invoices,” she continues, leafing through the papers. “The water bill, electricity, two for the fences. You didn’t even open them!”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy,” I snap.
It’s not fair to take it out on Jennifer, but she knows exactly how to needle me, and I’ve got plenty on my mind as is. My good mood draining out of me at the reminder of just how shitty things are is just the icing on the goddamn cake.
“You’re always busy,” she sneers back at me.
“Al’s in the fucking hospital.”
That takes the wind right out of her sails.
Her annoyance slips immediately into concern, and I cringe.
I didn’t mean to use that to attack her with—there was no way for her to know about Al, and now she looks guilty and scared.
Al’s practically her uncle, and here I am waving at him being sick in her face like a flag at a bull.
She shoves up from the table, looking half ready to run all the way to the hospital, and it only serves to make me feel worse. I can’t take care of my best friend or have a civil conversation with my daughter without fucking something up. I haven’t even heard from my son in half a decade.
Hell of a man I am.
“He had a heat stroke,” I say before the stricken look on her face can get any worse. “He’s alright. They kept him overnight for observation and told me to come check on him in the morning.”
Jennifer collapses back into her seat, looking drained and defeated.
Her fist is clenched on the table, one of the bills crumpled in her hand, and she’s frowning down at the table.
I can see tears beading on her lashes, but she wipes them away harshly before they have a chance to fall.
Tense silence stretches between us for a long moment before she finally meets my eyes again.
She still looks angry, but she’s more tired than anything.
My heart aches in my chest seeing that look on her face. I’ve seen it etched into the lines of my own eyes for years now, but she’s too young to look like that. A pang of guilt twinges in my chest at the knowledge that it’s my fault she’s old before her time.
I don’t want her to slip into the same apathy that I’ve been living in for so long.
“So why aren’t you checking on him?” she finally asks, sounding exhausted.
I sigh, wishing there was something I could do or say to make her feel better. Normal fathers would hug their daughter and soothe them with promises that things would be fine. I’m pretty sure if I tried that, Jennifer would be more uncomfortable than if I didn’t answer her at all.
“I’m heading out now,” I say, setting my coffee down.
I don’t ask if she wants to come along. She’d invite herself if she wanted to, and we both know that being in a car together for the half hour it takes to get to the hospital would only wind up in a fight.
I’m pretty sure neither of us have the energy for that.
“Let me know how he’s doing,” she says.
“Yeah,” I promise. “I will.”
Silence stretches between us for another long moment, neither of us sure what to say.
There are a million things on the tip of my tongue—assurances that I’ll take care of Al, promises that I’ll try harder on the ranch, confessions of everything that’s been going on with Mary. I swallow all of them down in turn.
“Right,” she says. “I’m going to take a nap.”
I nod in agreement as I pass her to grab my keys from the wall hook.
I want to say something to calm her worries, but I have no idea where to even start.
It’s not like I have any information on Al’s condition that I haven’t already told her, and any more promises of his safety will just ring hollow.
“Get some sleep,” I say instead.
I watch as she disappears down the hall, looking like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.
All I can do is turn and head out toward the truck. It’s always been both of us, stressed too much to handle anything well and taking it out on each other. Maybe fixing the ranch will help us fix the strain in our relationship.
I can hope, at least.