Chapter 33 Bode
“Bode!” The sound of Peter’s voice lurches me awake with a groan just before I feel his pillow hit me in the back of the head.
Everything aches the moment I sit up and chuck his pillow back at him across the bunkhouse.
I may have gotten the better of Ford, but my body took every blow he gave me.
“Your phone keeps going off,” he whines, rolling over in his bunk, “Some of us have to get up. Fucking shut it off.”
I blink away the sleep from my eyes, rubbing my palms into the sockets before reaching for it as it starts to ring again.
Cam
What the hell?
“What?” I answer it, kicking the blanket off my body and notice that Ford’s bed is empty.
“Is this your ranch hand?” he asks.
“Who?” I feel my phone vibrate in my hand and pull it away to check it.
A notification from Cam with a photo, and when I unlock it, I see Maggie’s pout staring back at me.
Middle finger shoved at the camera, and her eyes bloodshot.
Exhausted and angry, but definitely wasted and in the back of Cam’s cruiser.
“You gonna come get her or am I taking her in?” I hear him ask and bring the phone back to my ear. “Why didn’t you call Ford?”
Cam snorts. “I did. He said you’d deal with it.”
“Godda-” My curse is cut off by the sound of Maggie’s muffled shouts. Guilt rips through me that she’s there, alone and clearly upset by something. “I’m on my way.”
It doesn’t take me more than twenty minutes to get dressed and pull up outside of the Backbone, the local dive bar saved by a tourist who decided to stay.
Granted, a lot of us are thankful it wasn’t bought up and turned into some high-fashion clothing store, but why the hell is Maggie of all people here?
I park behind his cruiser and climb out. I can hear her kicking the door Cam’s leaning against, and now I’m even more confused. “What the hell happened?”
Cam looks up at me as the front door opens and a woman steps out.
She wraps a bar rag around the bag of ice in her hand before holding it out to him, and even though he looks exhausted, there’s a smirk on his face.
It's only when he turns to me that I see his split lip and raise a brow. “She tried to fight Old Man Kennedy.”
“She what?” I stop mid-step and stare at him. There’s no fucking way Maggie tried to fight a man, a grown fucking… I’m going to kill him. “Did he touch her?”
“No, no,” Cam shakes his head. “I stopped it before it got to that.”
“Is that how you got that?” I ask, pointing to his lip.
Cam shakes his head. “Oh no. Maggie gave that to me.”
“To be fair, you deserved it.” The woman chuckles and shakes her head before holding out her hand to me. “Kota, I run this place.”
I glance down at her hand before shaking it and nod. “You called him?”
Kota shakes her head. “He was already here on a date, who I’m pretty sure is being hit on by three different men at the moment.”
“Great,” Cam groans.
“C’mon, Cam,” I bark and go to reach for the car door.
“I’m serious! She threatened me and then swung,” he says, stepping up onto the curb. “She’s got a good right hook on her, but she hit a cop, Bode.”
Kota backs up towards the entrance again and clears her throat. “I’m going to let you two handle this,” she says, giving me a soft nod before disappearing back into the bar.
“An off-duty, nosy cop.” I grind back at him. “She’s five-four, Cam. What the hell could she have threatened you with?”
Cam swallows, almost like he’s afraid of the blonde causing chaos in the middle of Main Street. “I can’t repeat it.”
I stare at him in disbelief that anyone, let alone the fucking Sheriff, is afraid of Magnolia Mae. “Can I open this, or are you gonna throw me in the back too?”
Cam shakes his head and takes another step back as I tug open the door and let out a deep breath. The minute I dip my head down and see her glaring up at me, I catch the smell of whiskey and flowers. It’s dizzying, but Maggie leans around me and glares.
“You called my boss?” she spits at Cam with a venom I didn’t realize existed within her. “Snitch.”
“Maggie,” I breathe out. “What are you doin’, Wildflower?”
The nickname is a mistake. She’s too far gone right now to even care, and all of her anger is pointed directly at the man behind me.
“Snitches get stitches, Cam.” She points past me. “That’s like the first rule of being a cop.”
“Okay, okay, pretty girl, let’s go.” I help her out of the car and turn back to Cam to give him a nod as he shuts the door behind her as soon as she’s clear.
“This where you disappeared to tonight?” I ask, trying to lead her to the truck, but she’s off balance and leaning against me more than I know she wants to.
I noticed her truck still parked out by the barn and grabbed her keys off her hood, just thinking it was her brain too full of muck and sadness to notice. I figured she went up to the house and found a bed to crawl into. No, my girl walked her ass here and turned into a hellraiser.
“I’d still be inside! And warm!” she yells over my shoulder. “If it wasn’t for that stupid cop.” Her words are slurred, and I can tell her adrenaline is starting to slow down. Who knows how long she’s been here. “Did you know he called Ford first? Tattled on me, like a snitch!”
“He called me, Maggie,” I say and try to bite back a smile.
“Yeah, well,” Maggie hiccups, “just remember snitches get stitches, Cam!”
“Stop telling the Sheriff snitches get stitches, Magnolia,” I murmur into her hair and help her inside the truck. Holding the door frame and watching as she sinks into the seat. I wait until she’s settled to pull the seat belt over her body and click it into place.
She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes closed and for the first time tonight, seemingly relaxed. I pull away to shut the door, but her voice stops me. “What?” I ask her, missing what she murmured.
Her brows pinch together as she looks up at me. “Don’t take me home.” It’s a soft plea for peace that wraps itself around my heart and squeezes. “Anywhere but there,” she whispers as she shifts in the seat. “Too haunted.”
My knuckles ache with how hard I’m gripping the door frame as I watch her head tilt back against the seat and her eyes close again.
“Okay,” is the only word I can get out without making it obvious that I’m hurting with her, for her.
She barely moves in response, and so I double-check she won’t get caught in the door and shut it.
If she doesn’t want to go home, I’m not going to make her. Especially not tonight.
I climb into the truck and settle into the driver's seat, cranking the heat and pull off back towards the ranch. Maggie’s out cold the second we leave the curb, and I can’t help but keep stealing glances at her all the way up the hill.
The porch light is on outside of Dot’s, and I’m thankful because it’s going to make it easier to get a very drunk, very ornery Maggie inside. I kill the engine, and the second the heat stops blowing, she’s complaining with both eyes still closed.
Only Maggie-Mae can argue in her sleep.
“Come on,” I coax her from the passenger seat and onto the gravel with my arm around her tightly as she stirs from her sleep.
“Auntie D is gonna be so mad at me,” she mumbles, and her head tucks into my chest. She’s making it extremely hard to do anything with her hand wrapped into my jacket, and her tiny, stumbled steps are making me laugh.
I get her inside after a considerable amount of effort and quickly realize that the stairs are going to be an issue.
“Up you go.” I duck down, scooping her up into my arms, and the squeal that leaves her brings a smile to my face.
It gives me hope that somewhere beneath all that grief, her wildflower spirit is still there.
“You’re pretty strong,” she teases and uses a finger to push the brim of my hat off my forehead. I look up, and Dot is standing at the top of the stairs watching us with a concerning look on her face, but she lingers for a second before moving out of the way to let me pass.
“Last door,” she whispers, “Get her some ibuprofen and a bowl,” Dot instructs before disappearing back into her room.
Her room is baby blue, and her bed is covered with a quilt that matches all the others in the bunkhouse.
Ones that Dot has handmade to keep us warm, it’s patterned with flowers and bees, perfectly suiting Maggie in more ways than one.
I lower her to it and pull off her shoes, darting out quickly to collect the things Dot told me to get. When I return, he’s struggling with the zipper on her coat.
“This stupid…” she grumbles, falling back on the bed with a huff.
Her hair fans out over the bedspread, and her arms fall wide of her body.
I slot myself carefully between her knees and lean over, unzipping it until it breaks open.
“Can you turn the heat down?” She whines as I pull my hat off my head and set it on the dresser beside the bed.
I help her from the jacket, tossing it over the nearby chair and twisting the cap on the bottle of ibuprofen.
“That’s the popcorn bowl,” Maggie giggles. “Ford’s puked in that… like… a lot.”
“Look who’s being a snitch now,” I say to her, and she scrunches up her nose at me as she crawls up into bed. “Here…” I huff, reaching for the blankets. “Just wait.”
She pauses for a moment and then continues her squirming until she’s down into the blankets and her face is pressed into the pillow.
“I’m sad, Bode.” Her voice is so small that I almost miss her saying it, but those watery green eyes are staring up at me, and it breaks every wall I have in place to protect myself.
“Mama’s gone, they want the house… I don’t know-” she hiccups, and it forces a tear from her eyes.
“I don’t know how to do anything on my own. ”
“Do any of us?” I swipe the tear with my knuckle, kneeling beside the bed, and kiss her forehead. She’s so warm from the booze that it tingles against my lips as I linger.
“What if I screw it up?” she asks, and all I can do is chuckle.
“Darlin’, I’ve been screwing things up since the day I could walk,” I whisper to her as her eyes flutter closed again. “Look where it got me.” I stare at her, and know that every step, every stumble and fall, are all worth it if it leads me to her.
I wait another second, counting the freckles visible in the moonlight beneath her eyes, before raising and making sure she’s tucked in well before kicking off my boots to settle into the chair in the corner of her room.
“Don’t go,” she says, her hand searching out for me.
“I’m sorry I was mean, don’t be mad at me?
” she mumbles, half asleep already. Even if she hadn’t apologized, I wouldn’t have left her.
At this point, I don’t think I’m able. I kick off my boots and find space between her and the wall, wrapping myself around her middle and pulling her against my chest.