CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN SABRINA
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SAbrINA
I wake, Coen gently shaking my arm. He’s on his feet with both our bags in his hand.
“Hey, baby, we’re here,” he says, holding his hand out.
Bleary, I take it, grabbing my headphones. He leads the way out of the empty aisle. I guess he waited until we were the last ones to wake me. I love how considerate he is. It makes me squeeze his hand a little tighter as he leads me off the plane.
“You okay, baby?” he asks as we enter the tiny airport.
“Never better,” I say.
It’s true. Yes, I am terrified of facing Dad, but I’m not scared I’ll back down, because I won’t. All my life, I’ve given up what I wanted so others could be put first. Today, with him, I’m starting fresh. Coen Taylor is staying, come hell or high water. I get to keep him.
“If you get a studio,” I say, “can I get a pool?”
“Baby, I will build you whatever you like.”
I bite my lip, a little skip in my step.
A pool in the summer would be real nice.
Or maybe an indoor one we could use in the winter too, that’d be even better.
Coen leads the way out to the waiting area and crosses the parking lot.
He pauses by a big gray truck and starts tapping something into his phone.
“You get a rental?” I ask.
“I bought it and had it dropped off this morning,” he says. The car unlocks, presumably from his phone.
My brows rise. “Look at you. So you can be fancy.”
He circles around the car to where we’re concealed, and then he grabs my ass and gives it a squeeze. “I can be when I got precious cargo with me.”
He hefts me into the passenger side and slams the door before I can respond.
That’s fine, because I don’t have a response.
He’s different since I said I wanted to take a chance with him.
His stride is more confident. He touches me like I belong to him now.
And deep down, the part of me that doesn’t care we haven’t been together long believes I can.
He gets in, looking so fine, I want to kick my feet a little. Instead, I reach out and brush the side of his jaw with the backs of my fingers. He glances over as he starts the engine.
“You good?” he asks.
“I’m good,” I say. “Let’s go home and figure this out.”
The euphoric haze of falling for him keeps my head above water all the ride back. It’s a few hours, but it flies by. I take the blanket he bought in the airport and wrap it around me, leaning against the door. His hand rests absently on my ankle.
He’s always touching me, like he’s afraid I’m not real.
I wonder if all that being on the road made him feel like everything was fleeting.
It’s near dinner time when we finally pull up to the driveway.
Before we got on the plane, I texted Serena to let her know we were headed back.
She just said that was fine and to be safe.
Then, she didn’t respond to the text I sent when we landed.
That’s a little strange, but probably nothing to worry about.
Coen cuts the engine. I glance sideways.
“Hey, it’s gonna be fine,” he says. “Don’t worry. I got this.”
“He’s my dad. I have to handle it.”
“I have your back.”
He leans in, and it feels so strange to let him kiss me out in the open.
We get out of the car, and he grabs the bags, leading the way to the porch.
Before we can even climb the steps, the front door flies open, and Serena charges out.
She’s in a tank top, an old pair of shorts she’s not supposed to wear because they’re too short, and her dusty cowboy boots.
She stops short, narrowing her eyes at Coen.
“Some friend you have,” she snaps.
Uh-oh.
The door crashes open again, and Jamie appears, stopping short and putting his hands on his hips. It doesn’t look like he’s had the time to change out of the clothes he was in when we met, but they’re a lot more disheveled.
“The fuck is wrong with your sister?” he asks, scowling.
Coen and I look sideways at each other. This isn’t what either of us were expecting.
“What’s the problem here?” Coen asks.
Jamie opens his mouth but then thinks better of it. Serena takes a huge breath and turns on her heel to face us.
“Dad is really upset, so he locked himself in his office. I said we can just stick a crowbar under, lift it up, and then if you turn the lock, you can punch the side of the knob, and it pops open,” she says in a rush. “He went into the long explanation about how this would jack up the frame—”
“I said the hinges,” Jamie corrects.
“Whatever. It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not, but—”
She whirls on him. “You want to live today?”
Coen’s eyes are wide. I know this side of Serena, and it doesn’t mean what he thinks it does. I climb the stairs, and Jamie steps out of the way.
“Coen, you can bring everything up to my room,” I say.
“Right,” he says, climbing the stairs and disappearing into the hall.
“And you,” I say, turning on Jamie.
“What?” He lifts his palms.
“She likes your mustache,” I say, shooting an evil, gleeful glance at my sister. “And probably your butt or something. Bye.”
Slamming the door shut, I turn the lock.
They can go around the back and get inside.
That’ll give me and Coen time to deal with the bigger problem—my father locking himself in the office.
I leave for a few days, and everything turns to shit, I guess.
I tread upstairs to my room and find Coen dropping our bags by the bed.
He turns, dropping his wallet and keys on the bedside table.
“What’s the matter with them?”
I shrug as I step out of my shoes. “I think they like each other.”
His brows rise. “Really?”
“Kinda seems like it. At least, she likes him.”
He laughs, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Maybe a little rebound wouldn’t hurt Jamie. Your sister seems like she’d give him something to keep him occupied anyway.”
“He just can’t take her away,” I say.
He cocks his head. “She doesn’t have to stay here forever.”
He’s right. I check myself.
“I know,” I say. “I just can’t take too much change at one time.”
He holds out his hands, and I go to him. He grips me by the hips and rests his chin on my stomach, looking up at me. I love it when he does that.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“Taking a chance on me,” he says. “I won’t let you down.”
Gently, I touch his temple, brushing back a strand of hair. “I know.”
This time, there’s no voice in my head that sounds too much like my dad’s warning me away.
Bending down, I kiss him, and this time, I don’t pull back right away.
There’s no dull ache in the background, like the whirring of a fan.
Inhaling, I taste him, feel him in my lungs, beneath my hands.
He’s right to say we’re taking a chance.
There are never any guarantees. My heart is fragile, and I’m jumping with it in my hands anyway. In his hands, really.
I’m not scared.
From downstairs, the back door slams. Voices and footsteps fill the house in a rush. Gently, he pulls back and gets to his feet.
“Let’s go figure this shit out,” he says.
I pause, and he cups my chin. “What’s wrong?”
“Thanks for not being scared of all this,” I say, gesturing around. “All the baggage.”
“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours,” he says, kissing my forehead. “And I’m not scared of it. Whatever it is, I want to figure it out.”
My throat tightens, and I can’t say anything else.
He takes my hand, and we go downstairs. Right away, the sound of Jamie and Serena explodes in the kitchen.
We turn the corner, and there they are, leaning on opposite sides of the kitchen counter.
I’m not sure what this conversation is about, but it seems like Serena is winning. Jamie has his arms folded, scowl fixed.
“Can we stop?” Coen says.
His voice is louder and firmer than I’m used to. I freeze, and so does everyone else.
“Jamie, not everything is about you,” he says.
He nudges me. I clear my throat.
“Serena, not everyone is out to get you.”
They both open their mouths, but there’s a scuffle from behind us, and everyone turns.
Dad stands in the hallway, face sober, hands folded.
Suddenly, I’m a little girl again, and my heart hurts seeing him alone.
He’s not perfect, but he’s still my father, and that means something.
Our eyes connect. All those years hang heavy over our heads.
“Dad,” I whisper.
He lifts an arm. “Come here.”
I go, and he puts his hand on my shoulder. I think he’s going to say something, but then he pulls me against his chest. There’s a long moment, then a sniffle from Serena in the background. When I pull back, his eyes are wet.
“You like this boy?” he asks quietly.
I nod, wiping my face.
“He’s gonna try and stay with you for a bit?”
I nod again.
He clears his throat, and his eyes go misty. “Your mom called, talked to me for a while.”
“Really?”
They haven’t spoken beyond emails to set up visits. He touches the side of my face.
“I think I’m gonna go up to Portland for a bit,” he says.
Shock ripples through me in a wave.
“What? Why? You’re leaving us?”
Serena skirts around the counter, eyes enormous and jaw slack. “Dad, you can’t just leave us.”
He lifts his hand, waving it. “I’m not abandoning you girls. Eugenia and I were just talking about it when she visited. She’s got a doctor she really likes up there, and we both think I could get better medical care if I spent some time at her place.”
The room is dead silent.
“What about us?” I whisper.
Dad turns to Coen, who’s stayed silent this whole time. “You want a break? Here’s a place for a break.”
They make eye contact.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Coen asks quietly.
Nobody knows what to say, but, luckily, Coen does, moving around me and taking my dad’s elbow.
I back up and sink down on a stool, hard.
They move across the living room and out the back door.
Through the window, I catch a glimpse of him helping Dad down the steps so they can stand in the backyard beneath the oak tree, the same one where our childhood tire swing still hangs, the ground worn beneath it.
This isn’t what I wanted.
I didn’t need everything to change.
The silence after the screen door slams shut is so loud.
I think of all the little spats, the disagreements over the years that resulted in that door slamming.
My father never got mad at us girls for being upset.
He just rode the waves, weathering the storm, until we were ready to talk again.
He was patient, just like Coen. My heart hurts, watching them through the window.
He’s standing, but with a little difficulty.
Deep inside, I don’t think him going to Portland is a bad idea. They’re less rural, and Aunt Eugenia’s house is all one level, in an expensive suburb outside the city. She does well for herself, better than we do.
Dad would get better care with her.
That hurts, that I can’t give him that. Hastily, I bend down to sniff and wipe my eyes.
Jamie glances over but says nothing. Serena is staring like she’s in shock.
I hate that she hurts inside, but this time, it’s not my place to shelter her from discomfort.
We’re both grown now. We both have to keep our chins up, especially if Dad leaves the ranch with us for a while. I can’t do it alone. I’ll need Serena.
And Coen.
I glance back up. Dad has his back to the house. Coen stands facing in, sunglasses on, arms crossed, face sober.
They talk. For a long, long time.
I think about a lot of things. Instead of pushing them down, I put them in a box and set them on the shelf in the corner of my heart. When we have a minute, I’ll take them out and see if Coen wants to sort through them with me.
That’d be a first, having someone to sort through things with.
It takes ages, but eventually, they come back inside. Dad makes his way to the couch in the living room and sinks down. Coen goes to the sink and pours himself a glass of water. Nobody moves. He clears his throat and jerks his head at the front door.
“Jamie,” he says. “Let’s go have a cigarette on the porch.”
They go. I meet Serena’s eyes.
“Dad,” she whispers. “Are you leaving?”
He lets out a rumbling sigh. “Just for a bit, honey. Not forever.”
She starts arguing with him, but I stay exactly where I am.
The world is turning into a new phase of life.
I can try to grab it and hold on, or I can let it spin through my fingers and be at peace.
Things are happening, and for once, I’m not the only one who has to handle it.
Coen is handling it. Aunt Eugenia is handling it.
Hell, maybe Jamie is out there handling things right now.
All I have to do is hold my breath.
All I have to do is take a chance.
Serena says she’s going upstairs and disappears.
I get up and make a pot of coffee. Dad hums, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
Briefly, I wonder what Mom said to him on the phone.
It’s not my business to know, and it won’t change anything if I hear it.
I hate the loss of control, but I just have to hate it and move on.
“You want some coffee, Dad?” I ask.
“Sure, honey,” he says.
I pour him a cup and take it over. When I set it down, he grabs my hand. The eyes that fix on mine are familiar, like the mountains around the ranch, like the sky overhead, the home I’ve always known.
“I like Coen,” he says.
That’s all the apology I’ll get out of him, and I have to let that go too. I’m not sure Dad and I will ever be as close as we were before. This trip, everything with Coen, opened my eyes to a lot of harsh truths.
But I’m happy.
“Yeah, I like him too,” I whisper.
He holds my hand for a while, rough from ranch work. It’s not my place to forgive him for what he did to Mom, but it’s my place to forgive him for what that did to me. I’m not ready to do it yet, but I still love him.
Family is so complicated. A shattered mess, pieced back together again and again, but never the same afterward.
I sit with him for a long time, until Coen and Jamie come back inside.