Chapter 28 Cove #2
The only semi-normal thing about my day today was stopping by Roasted for my favorite hot chai. I grab one for Mom, knowing she’ll appreciate the pick-me-up after working another double shift.
It’s been ages since I’ve driven myself anywhere, oddly enough.
My beamer baby has been sitting in the covered parking garage of Palm Towers for weeks now, so I figured now was a good time to take her for a spin.
I use the drive as a bit of a refuge, thinking through my conversation with Betsy and how making a change like that can really alter my life.
I don’t exactly have anywhere else to live if I sell my share.
I could still find a less expensive place in the city. Maybe somewhere closer to the coastal side of town for a change of scenery. But no matter how many options I conjure in my head, none of them feel right anymore.
Stetson. Everything goes back to Stetson.
The unexpected cowboy who turned my world upside down and made my problems and dreams his own.
Could I really give up this life to move to Texas? The city has been my home since I was a little girl. It’s everything I love. The people. My best friends. Seascape. The zeal for hustle. The food. God, the food is to die for.
But there’s one thing Miami doesn’t have, and that’s him.
I can work from anywhere in the world, and I know that’s something Stetson would never want me to stop doing. I’m not made to be someone’s housewife. I have goals. I want to work and earn my own wages, but come home to a man who provides equally and loves me equally.
I also don’t want kids.
Shit. We haven’t talked about that yet. I need to ask him because, unfortunately for me, that’s a nonnegotiable. Something I’ve been set on my entire life. I just don’t have the desire. Don’t have the motherly nature that some women have so naturally, and that’s okay.
It took me many years to accept that the world won’t always understand that. But I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I’d be doing my children an unkindness by having them just for the sake of following the majority.
Besides, I learned from personal experience how shitty it feels as a kid to have a parent who never wanted you. No one can save a heart from that level of emotional neglect. And I won’t repeat history.
There’s still so much we need to talk about, and here I am, making plans in my head about the amount of closet space he’ll give me and morning coffees on the porch together.
As I approach my mom’s house, big trucks and machinery line the streets leading to hers at the end of the cul-de-sac. For being a relatively safe and quiet neighborhood, this is a rarity to see.
Someone must be doing some home improvement themselves.
Excavators and cement trucks take up nearly the entire street, while orange cones line the perimeter of service trucks with line workers huddling around them.
The odd thing is that the closer I get, the more workers I see.
Hard hats galore. Dust flying and industrial dumpsters set to the side of the road. What in the ever-loving hell is going on? I pull out my phone to call my mom, but it rings once and sends me to voicemail.
Cool, Mom. Cool.
I do my best to abide by the speed limit and keep an acceptable distance while passing the workers, no matter how much I actually want to floor it to get to the house faster. The moment Mom’s house comes into view, my heart stops.
Sinks. Soars. Panics. I don’t actually know the correct term for how it feels.
I think I’d be much better at deciphering it if I knew what was actually going on.
What I do know is that there are about ten men with hard hats, papers, and work boots standing in her yard.
I don’t have to roll my window down to smell the sawdust or hear the sound of drills and saws—there’s enough of them littered across the yard.
But why are they here? Did she start the project without telling me? I know she’s entitled to do whatever she wants, given it’s her house, but I wanted to be a part of this with her. To help her.
God, if she puts herself in even more debt for this, I’m going to scream, cry, and probably throw up all at the same time.
But Mom wouldn’t do that. I know her. She’d put her needs and wants to the wayside and sell it, just to make sure anyone who loved her never got a chance to intervene in her mess.
Mess. What she considers a mess is what I consider a blessing.
She is a blessing.
I’m quite positive my stress response takes over the minute I park my car on the side of the road. I swing my door open and stride to the group of workers huddled together. “Hey! Buddy…buddies. What’s going on here?”
“Just doing our job, ma’am,” says the guy I’d take an educated guess is the foreman.
“And what exactly is your job here?” I’m getting sassy, but this is the last thing I expected.
I’ve hardly been gone a week, and it’s as if all my plans and meetings with Tom were for nothing.
Speaking of…where is Tom? Oh my god, I hope he doesn’t think I dropped him without any courtesy or anything. He’s been so good to us.
The older gentleman clears his throat, and the remaining crew members look at me like I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They aren’t wrong, either. “Well, as you can see.” He points toward the house in front of me.
No shit, Sherlock. “Demolition is underway. Once demo is taken care of, we evaluate the problems and see which task to tackle first. It’ll likely be the foundation because, well, you can’t have a stable house without it.
” He chuckles, and frankly, I don’t find him funny.
“I can clearly see demolition is happening. Thank you for that brilliant revelation. But what I’m mostly curious about is who authorized you to do this?
I’ve been the one working with Tom to finalize plans, and even so, nothing was scheduled or decided.
Also, don’t you need a permit before you can even start? ”
He holds up a stack of stapled papers. “Got it right here. City posted it to the front door this morning. And as for authorization, you can talk to that guy.” He points to the front porch, and it’s zero help because there are multiple guys.
I send him a blank stare. “Gonna need you to be a bit more specific.”
“Cowboy hat.”
And that’s when I see it—see him.
Stetson Cole. My Stetson Cole, standing beside none other than my mother, as he points to the house, telling her god knows what.
If I had to guess, it would have something to do with pine trees or horses, neither of which I see here.
But I don’t have time to figure it out before my feet are moving, rushing like my ass is on fire, until I’m standing behind both of them.
I tap his shoulder and put my hands on my hips. “Excuse me.”
Blue eyes and salt-and-pepper scruff turn to greet me, and my heart instantly warms. He’s home to me. A home with all the fixins’. I almost forgot why I charged over here to begin with. “Hi, my love. We’ve been waiting on you.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, confusing me even more.
I immediately look at Mom, finding her smiling like a lovesick fool.
“What’s going on here?”
“Hi, honey,” Mom chimes in, pulling me in for a hug. “How was your trip? You and Betsy have a good time away?” She enunciates “Betsy,” and I know right away I’ve been caught.
“You ratted me out.” I hit Stetson’s stomach, earning myself a chuckle.
Stetson smiles and pulls me into his arms. “Figured honesty was a good place to start when meeting your mother, Cove.”
“Mom, I hadn’t had a chance to tell you about him. You know I would have, right? Everything happened much quicker than I ever expected.”
Mom reaches for my hand. “Honey, I know. You don’t owe me anything, but I have to say, meeting Stetson was a nice surprise. He seems to know you well.”
I look up at him with so much love in my heart. “He does. But he also has some explaining to do.” I look back and forth between them. “Anyone wanna tell me what’s going on? I know plans can’t change that fast in a week.”
“More like sixteen hours,” Stetson notes.
“How?” I sigh because I already know where this is going.
Stetson shrugs, making no effort to apologize, and I wouldn’t expect him to. He’s a giver, no matter how hard a gift like this is to accept. “I made some phone calls.”
“Stet,” I whisper. Tears fill my eyes, and my mom’s grip on my hand tightens. I can feel the relief leave her body. “He’s a good man, sweet girl.”
“But why?” I ask him, unable to look away from my childhood home. The home my mother bought with her own pennies and dimes. The home we first found our footing in after Nathaniel left us.
The home almost taken from us by a hurricane.
And now that home is being completely restored before our very eyes.
“Because I love you, and we help the people we love.”
I cry, “Mom, you’re okay with this?”
Mom nods. “Honey, I learned a long time ago that if a man is willing to show up for you in the small things, he’ll love you well in the big things. There’s no use in arguing. Stetson loves you, Cove. Let him demonstrate that love, however he sees fit.”
I have a man who loves me. He loves me so much that within sixteen hours, he had a crew of men at my mom’s house to start restoring my childhood home. Stetson doesn’t spend his money on anything. Hell, he still drives an old truck and drinks from the same chipped coffee cup every morning.
But this gesture…I can’t express the magnitude of what it means to me.
My body moves on its own, putting me right in Stetson’s arms. I reach for his black cowboy hat and lower it to my side.
“I love you more than words could ever say. Thank you for being the man I always needed. And thank you for this.” I gesture to Mom’s house, my heart bursting with ease knowing the worry is gone.
“You’ve rescued me in more ways than one, Stet. ”
“And I’d do it again and again. Get used to it.” He kisses my nose before pulling my mom into a side hug with us. “Right, Ms. Davenport? That goes for you, too.”
“Thank you, Stetson.” Mom grins. “You two won’t have to worry about me once all this is done and over with. I’ll have my house again, and you’ll have each other. I couldn’t be more grateful.”
Speaking of each other…
“It’s no hardship at all,” Stetson tells Mom before turning back to me and whispering into my ear. “When do you go back to work?”
“Not for a few more days. How long are you in Miami?”
“However long I need. I hired Greg as the foreman over the restoration. He’s a good guy. Trustworthy and local to Texas. He’s doing me a favor, so I don’t necessarily have to be here too long.”
I nod, and I think Mom catches on where our conversation is headed before excusing herself. “We should probably talk,” I say almost breathlessly, leaning into his side.
Stetson traces his fingers along the outside of my arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Okay, my love. Let’s talk.”