Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
C oop sat in his favorite worn recliner, the old thing groaning under his weight as he adjusted the footrest. His TV was on, tuned to some afternoon rerun of an old western movie, but he wasn’t focusing on the screen. He was staring at his fingers as they idly traced the arm of one of the chairs, because his thoughts were on one thing he didn’t want to admit. Right now, he felt utterly useless.
For decades, he’d spent every single day of his life at Coop’s Home Cookin’. Even when he had a cold, even when he hurt his ankle that time, even when it was a holiday.
Across the room, his friend and co-worker Wanda sat perched on the edge of the couch with a crossword puzzle in her lap. She looked over at him every so often, watching him with a quiet observation that only someone who’d known him for so many years could manage.
“You know, Coop,” she finally said, “you’re lucky I’m such a good friend, because not everybody would sit here spending their whole day babysitting a grown man because he can’t be trusted.”
Coop grumbled, folding his arms. “I don’t need babysitting. I told Whitney I’m fine. She just doesn’t listen.”
Wanda smirked. “Oh right, she doesn’t listen. She’s your daughter, isn’t she? Both of you are as stubborn as mules.”
Coop shot her a look. “I’m not stubborn. I’m practical. I’m decisive. I know what I want.”
“Uh-huh,” Wanda said, her tone dripping in sarcasm. She set the crossword puzzle aside and leaned forward. “You know what, Coop? I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, and you haven’t said more than ten words. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing’s going on,” he said, his tone short. “I’m just tired of everybody acting like I’m some kind of fragile old man who can’t take care of himself.”
Wanda raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what this is? You’re mad at the world because people care about you? That must be real hard, having a daughter and friends who want to see you stick around for a while, even if you drive us nuts.”
Coop sighed. “It’s not that. It’s, I don’t know, Wanda, things just feel off lately. Ever since Whitney started this whole wellness thing, I feel like she’s pulling away. She’s going to have a whole different life that doesn’t include me. It’s like she doesn’t need me anymore.
Wanda stood up and crossed the room, sitting next to his recliner on the hearth.
“Coop, that girl needs you more than you realize. She always has, and she always will. But you know what? She’s grown up, and that’s what grown-up kids do. They start making their own choices. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love her father.”
Coop stared at the floor.
“Well, it doesn’t feel like love when she was siding with Tate and leaving me out of everything. I’ve been her rock her whole life, Wanda. She’s going off and doing her own thing, and what if she just doesn’t need me anymore?”
“You know, Coop, I didn’t talk to my oldest son for two years because of a silly fight. Two years, Coop, over nothing more than a difference of opinion. And you know what the fight was about?”
He looked up, shaking his head.
“He wanted to move to Florida with his wife and kids. I didn’t want them to go. It was all about me. That’s all I was thinking about. I felt like they were abandoning me, like they didn’t care about me anymore. So I got mad, dug my heels in the sand, said things I shouldn’t have, and he left. Two whole years went by before I swallowed my pride and picked up the phone.”
Coop leaned back in his chair.
“What happened when you called him?”
“He answered,” Wanda said simply. “He’d just been waiting around for me to come around the whole time. Let me tell you, Coop, those two years were the loneliest times of my life. I’ll never get that time back with my grandkids or my son, and it was my own fault. Don’t let that happen with Whitney.”
He rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed.
“You really think it’s that simple, Wanda? What if I don’t agree with some of what she’s doing? What if I see her making mistakes? It’s just not the life I imagined for her.”
“It’s not about the life that you imagined. It’s about the life that she imagines for herself. And whether you like it or not, she’s got every right to chase her dreams, just like you chased yours when you built that diner.”
“So you think I’ve been a little too hard on her?”
She looked at him, giving him a look that said everything without having to say a word.
“I don’t want to lose her, Wanda. I don’t know how to let go of wanting what I think is best for her.”
“You don’t have to let go,” she said softly. “You just have to keep your mouth shut. You have to trust her. She’s a smart woman, Coop. You raised her that way. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She helps people every single day at that clinic. My friend Marcy had a terrible case of pneumonia, and Whitney was the one who got her back to health. I’m telling you, if you keep fighting her on this, you’re going to push her away permanently. Trust me, it’s a pain you don’t want to feel.”
Coop sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the TV filling the space. Then, he finally looked at Wanda, his eyes heavy with emotion.
“You don’t think it’s too late?”
She shook her head.
“It’s never too late, Coop. But you have to be the one who takes the first step and supports her. Show her that you’re willing to meet her where she is, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll see that what she’s doing isn’t so bad after all.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said, nodding slowly.
“Good, that’s all I can ask.” She stood up and grabbed her crossword puzzle from the couch. “Now how about I fix us some coffee? That decaf nonsense Whitney keeps trying to make you drink isn’t worth the ground it’s brewed on, but I suppose we have no choice.”
Coop chuckled. “Yeah, we don’t have a choice.”
* * *
W hitney stepped out of her car and pulled her cardigan tighter around her as the cool evening air swept over the square. She’d had a very long shift at the clinic. It seemed everybody in town was getting sick all of a sudden. She had stopped by the vegan cafe to thank Tate for what he’d done bringing her dad food. To her relief, Coop seemed to be making some small steps toward accepting the changes he needed to make. She thought that maybe that little hospital visit scared him straight, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Tate’s gesture might have helped nudge him in the right direction.
The lights inside the cafe were dim, but she could see Tate through the glass wiping down the counters as he prepared to close for the night. She waited a moment, wondering if she was intruding, but then pushed the door open.
He looked up, a surprised smile breaking across his face.
“Whitney,” he said, setting down his cloth. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” she said, waving her hand. “Just wanted to say thank you. My dad, well, you know, he actually enjoyed the food you brought. Well, he didn’t hate it. He’s never going to admit that it was delicious or anything.”
Tate’s smile widened. “Just saying he didn’t hate it is high praise coming from your dad.”
She laughed softly. “It really is. You know, I think you might have done the impossible. You might have gotten through to him in a way that I couldn’t.”
He leaned against the counter. “I didn’t do anything special. I just wanted him to know that it’s not about taking things away from him. It’s about adding something better to his life.”
“Well, anyway, it meant a lot,” she said. “To both of us.”
Then, there was a pause, a silence that was heavy in the room. Whitney glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Well, I guess I should let you finish closing up. Just wanted to stop by and say thanks again.” She turned toward the door, but Tate’s voice stopped her.
“Hey, Whitney?”
She turned back. “Yeah?”
“Would you be interested in having dinner with me tonight?”
“Dinner?” she repeated, caught off guard.
“Yeah, you know, it’s the last meal of the day.”
Whitney laughed. “I know what dinner is.”
“I know it’s last minute, but you look like you’ve had a long day, and I thought maybe you could use a break.”
“You know, I’d like that,” she said.
Tate’s face lit up. He walked over to the door and flipped the lock.
“Wait, where are we going?” she asked, watching him turn off the neon open sign.
He grinned, pulling the blinds down over the windows. “We’re going right here. You look too tired to go anywhere, and I make a pretty decent chef.”
“You’re cooking for me here?”
“Why not?” he said, moving toward the kitchen. “You’re always taking care of everyone else. Just let me take care of you for a change.”
Her heart melted a little at his words. She found herself smiling as she sank into one of the booths.
“Well, okay then. You’ve got my attention. What’s on the menu?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he teased.
Whitney leaned back in her chair and allowed herself to relax for the first time all day. She watched as he moved around the kitchen through the door, his movements fluid and confident. The lights were dim, and there was a soft hum of music playing in the background.
A few minutes later, he came out of the kitchen with a small tablecloth and a candle, which he set in the center of the table. He lit the candle.
“Candlelight?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Wow, you’re really going all out?”
“For you? Always,” he said, his voice low.
Whitney’s breath caught in her throat, and she looked away, focusing on the flame instead of the intensity of his gaze. Tate returned to the kitchen, and soon, the air was filled with the aroma of roasted vegetables, garlic, and herbs. When he returned, he carried two plates, setting one in front of her with a flourish.
“Vegan mushroom risotto,” he said, “and a side of roasted Brussels sprouts. I thought you’d appreciate something a little lighter after a long day.”
Whitney stared at the plate, her mouth watering. “This looks incredible.”
“Wait until you taste it,” he said, taking the seat across from her.
She took a bite, and the creamy, rich flavors exploded on her tongue. “You weren’t kidding. This is absolutely amazing.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, watching her with a smile.
They ate, and the conversation flowed easily, as it always did. Tate asked about her day at the clinic, and she asked him about his latest menu experiments. There was an obvious undercurrent of connection that neither one of them could deny.
When they finished eating, Tate cleared the plates and returned with two small bowls of fresh fruit drizzled with a honey-lime glaze.
“Dessert,” he said.
“You’ve thought of everything, and you didn’t even know I was coming.”
“I hoped,” he said, sitting down again.
She took a bite of the sweet, tangy fruit. Tate leaned forward with his elbows on the table.
“Whitney, there’s something I need to say.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. “Okay.”
“I respect you so much,” he said, his voice steady but vulnerable. “The way you care for people, the way you’re chasing your dreams despite the pushback from your dad. It’s incredible. And I feel like I’m falling for you.”
She stared at him. He continued, his eyes searching hers.
“I don’t know how you feel, but I needed to tell you because every time I’m around you, I feel like I found something I didn’t even know I was looking for.”
She felt her eyes welling with tears. She reached across the table and took his hand.
“Tate, I feel the same way. I’ve been so scared to admit it, even to myself. But you, well, you make me feel seen in a way I never have before.”
Relief flickered across his face, followed by joy. He stood and pulled her to her feet. They stood there for a moment, the space between them charged with emotion. When he leaned in, she met him halfway. His lips were warm and soft against hers, and the kiss was slow and unhurried—a perfect blend of tenderness and passion. Her hand slid up to his shoulders, and he pulled her closer, one hand gently resting on the small of her back.
When they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.
“You know, I could get used to this,” she whispered.
“Do you mean the food or the kiss?” Tate asked.
“Both,” she said.
* * *
M adeline hummed to herself as she carried a tray into the living room, balancing a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and jelly toast. Despite the cheerful light streaming through the windows of Brady’s house, her heart felt heavy. She walked into the room where Brady sat propped up on the couch, his injured leg resting on a stack of pillows. His crutches leaned against the armrest, and he was staring at the TV, though it was clear he wasn’t really watching it.
“Breakfast is served,” she said brightly, setting the tray in front of him.
He offered a small smile. “Madeline, you don’t have to keep doing this. I can get my own food.”
“Not today, you can’t,” she said, hands on her hips. “The doctor’s orders were clear after your last visit—rest and no weight on that leg unless absolutely necessary. That includes you hopping around the kitchen like a bunny rabbit.”
He let out a sigh. “Fine. Really, you’re fussing too much.”
She wasn’t used to hearing him speak so shortly to her, but she knew he was frustrated. She perched on the arm of the couch. “You know you’re impossible. Just eat it before it gets cold.”
He reached for the plate, but she noticed his movements were a little stiff. Brady was always so strong and self-reliant, and it was clear he was struggling with this loss of independence, even though it would only be short-lived. She watched as he picked up the food, his appetite not the same, especially with the painkillers he was taking when he needed them.
He tried to act like everything was fine.
“Brady,” she said gently.
He didn’t look up. “What?”
“You don’t have to pretend for me. I know this is hard for you.”
He set the plate down with a little more force than necessary. “I hate this, Madeline. Sitting here feeling useless. It’s like I’m not even me anymore. I can’t do anything around the farm. I can’t help at the firehouse. I can’t even go outside without worrying about tripping over these stupid crutches.”
His voice cracked, and he leaned back against the couch, rubbing his face with his hands.
“Brady,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“I know,” she said, scooting closer. “You’re allowed to feel frustrated. You’ve been through a lot.”
“I don’t mean to take it out on you. You’ve been amazing. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“That’s what I’m here for, to help you. But you have to let me. You don’t always have to be strong. It’s okay to lean on me.”
“I’m not used to this, relying on someone else. It’s hard.”
“I know it is,” she said, taking his hand. “But you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve taken care of so many people for so long—your family, your friends, this entire town. It’s okay to let somebody take care of you for a change.”
The tension eased as he let out a breath. “I guess I don’t really have a choice now, do I?”
She grinned. “No, not when I’m around, you don’t.”
Before either of them could say more, the front door suddenly burst open, and Brady’s niece Anna’s voice echoed through the house.
“Uncle Brady!” she yelled.
Madeline turned to see her bounding through the living room, her curls bouncing as she ran straight to the couch and climbed up beside him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Hey, kiddo,” Brady said, his face lighting up. “What are you doing home so soon?”
Jasmine walked in behind her, carrying their luggage. “We cut the trip short,” she said, hurrying to his side. “We heard what happened, and there’s no way I was going to stay in Pigeon Forge and act like my brother wasn’t injured on the sofa here.”
“Jasmine, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did,” she said, her voice shaking as she leaned down to hug him. “You scared the living daylights out of me, Brady. Don’t you ever do that again.”
“I’ll try my best,” he said, chuckling softly.
Anna pulled back, looking up at him with her wide eyes. “Mama said you saved a little girl from a fire. Is that true?”
He smiled, ruffling her hair. “I just did what I needed to do, sweetie. That’s all.”
“That means you’re a hero,” Anna said, her voice filled with awe.
Madeline felt her heart swell as she watched the interaction. Despite his frustration and pain, Brady was still the man she loved—kind, selfless, and devoted to the people he cared about.
Jasmine sat down beside Madeline, her hand resting on her knee. “How’s he really doing?” she asked in a low voice.
“He’s healing,” Madeline said. “It’ll take time, but you know he’s strong. He’ll get through this.”
Jasmine nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know what I would have done without him, Madeline,” she said. “He’s the glue that holds this family together.”
Madeline squeezed her hand. “He’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”
The two women shared a quiet moment as they watched Anna chatting with Brady, her youthful energy filling the room. They had a long road ahead, but as long as they all had each other, she knew they could face whatever came next.