CHAPTER FORTY-ONE SABRINA
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
SAbrINA
I think, deep inside, I was afraid he wouldn’t come home.
I worried he was a beautiful, perfect dream, that if I looked away, he would disappear.
Sitting on the step with a cup of coffee, I wait and watch the sun etch across the sky.
Serena is inside. I hear the faint sounds of her playing her guitar and singing in her bedroom.
She’s really good. How did I not realize she was that good before now?
Maybe I was too wrapped up in myself.
The gravel crunches. I blink, and my eyes focus on the truck coming up the drive.
My hand shakes as I put down my mug and scramble to my feet.
The truck halts, and the door swings open.
He drops out, so handsome in his dark jeans, boots, and t-shirt.
He’s got a toothpick in the corner of his mouth.
I see it for a second as he smiles, wider than he ever has.
I run across the gravel and throw myself into his arms.
He’s home, he’s here.
He’s mine for good.
Inhaling, I bury my face in the front of his shirt. I can hear a second set of boots on the gravel. Cracking my eyes open, I catch sight of Jamie getting out of the truck as well, bag over his shoulder. I hope that doesn’t mean anything bad.
“You alright?” he asks, kissing the top of my head.
“Yeah, I’m perfect,” I sigh.
He peels me off and brushes my hair back. I glance over at Jamie, who’s got his head cocked, gazing up at the house.
“What’s Jamie doing back?”
“He wanted a couple days to figure some work stuff out,” Coen says, taking my hand. “Is that okay? He can stay in the guesthouse.”
I nod, offering Jamie a smile. He’s still just looking around.
“Yeah, I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re back.”
We all go inside. The door slams, and Serena falls silent, but her feet patter across the floor. She comes tumbling down the stairs, all smiles for me and Coen. Her eyes fall on Jamie, and she goes still. Then her brows scrunch and her lower lip pushes out.
“What are you doing here?” she says.
Coen clears his throat. “You want me to help get dinner together, baby?”
I nod.
“I’m just gonna have a smoke on the porch,” says Jamie, turning back around and walking out.
Serena sniffs. “You all need any help with dinner?”
I shake my head, confused. She goes clattering back up the stairs. When I turn to Coen, he’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, a faintly amused lilt to his mouth.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
He beckons me with a finger. I come close, and he leans in.
“They fucked,” he says.
I reel back. “What? No, they didn’t. Serena tells me everything.”
“And Jamie tells me everything too.”
Shock ripples through me, and I have to take a second. The second I look away, this happens. And now, Dad is gone, and we’re on our own. I’m on my own in dealing with it. Guilt floods my chest, and I turn to start pacing, hand going to my forehead. Coen catches my wrist gently and blocks my way.
“Hey, baby,” he says gently. “She’s grown.”
I swallow. “He’s a lot older than her.”
“I know. And I’m older than you.”
He takes my face in his hands. Nobody has ever done that, and it blocks the world out in the gentlest way. I drag my eyes up to his and fall into his soft, dark gaze.
“Hey, let it go,” he says. “They’ll figure it out. Jamie is a good guy.”
I blink, swallowing.
“Deep breath in, deep breath out,” he says.
A little embarrassed, I obey. He gives me a forehead kiss that makes my knees weak and then lets me go. The sudden rush of anxiety eases but doesn’t go away. Maybe after we lay down, we can talk about it more. But he’s right. Now isn’t the time to fly off the handle about anyone.
“You fucked me right after I showed up,” he says.
“When did it happen?”
“For them? Jamie says the first night.”
“Oh, God,” I say. “With everyone in the house?”
Coen laughs. “Says the girl who got fucked in the guest room with the AG group meeting downstairs.”
He has a point. The door creaks open, and Jamie comes in, boots loud on the floor. Coen gives me a stern look, and I jerk my chin. I get it. I can stop worrying for a minute and step back. Not everything has to be fixed right away.
And for the first time, I don’t have to be the one to fix it.
“Alright,” I say. “How does everyone feel about spaghetti?”
Jamie shrugs, hands on his hips. “I could do that.”
I grab an apron from the drawer and start tying it on. Coen takes the ties and does it for me. “Do you want to show Jamie to the guesthouse?” I say.
He kisses the side of my neck, pausing to murmur, “Sure, but a couple doors aren’t gonna do a thing. Didn’t for us.”
He’s right, of course, but I feel better about putting Jamie out there instead of in the guestroom.
Two doors down from my little sister’s bedroom.
I busy myself with filling a pot with water while the two men leave out the front to get their luggage from the truck.
I’m not spiraling. Usually, when something like this happens, I spiral silently.
Colin, the last one, didn’t bother me because it was nothing.
We both knew that. But the one before that, the one Dad got in a fight with, gave me a stomach ulcer.
Jamie better fucking behave.
Serena comes downstairs again. I give her a long look, considering asking her and hearing her side.
The temptation is strong. She sinks down on a stool and leans her chin on her hand.
Into my head comes what Coen just said. Now that we’re together officially, he pushes back more. I need it, being called out sometimes.
I take out an onion and a few peppers and start finely chopping.
“You okay with Jamie and Coen being here?” I ask.
She shrugs. “You know I like Coen.”
Chop, chop, chop. I let her bite her cheek and frown for a bit.
“Jamie’s fine. Kind of annoying, but nothing I can’t handle,” she says. “I’m happy for you about Coen. He makes you a lot different.”
“Different?”
“Yeah, a lot more like this.” She sits up, takes a deep breath, and lets it out, dropping her shoulders. “Instead of all balled up.”
My hands go still. “Was I that stressed out?”
“You were pretty stressed.”
The front door opens, and Coen comes back, this time sans Jamie. He probably sent him around the side to the guesthouse to avoid any more drama. Warmth stirs, sparking higher as he puts a hand on my waist.
“Sure you don’t want me to help?” he says.
I glance up. Serena gives me a pointed look.
“See,” she says.
Biting back my smile, I shrug, because she’s right. My whole body sinks as the knot in my stomach eases when he walks into the room.
“What?” Coen asks, looking between us.
“Nothing,” says Serena, jumping down and circling the counter to grab the plates. “She just likes you.”
“I sure hope she does at this point,” he says.
He goes upstairs after I assure him I’ve got everything handled.
The shower runs in the hall bathroom. Serena finishes setting the table and says she’s going to do a check on the barn before dinner.
At peace, I finish the spaghetti and throw some garlic bread into the oven.
When Coen comes downstairs, he’s all warm from the shower, and his hair looks ten times sexier wet. It’ll be a late night for us.
Jamie comes back. They talk in the living room.
I think about how nice it would be if Serena and Jamie somehow ended up together, despite my reservations.
We could all live here on the ranch, and every night could be like this, peaceful and homey.
I could make sure Serena’s alright, and Jamie can make sure Coen’s fine.
The problem with that is, deep down, I know Serena needs to have her own version of my road trip to Nashville.
It’s only fair.
Everyone is civil once we sit down and start eating.
Coen opens some red wine, and I pour everyone just enough to relieve the tension between Jamie and Serena.
By the time we hit second helpings, they’re both smiling and talking like they weren’t at each other’s throats an hour ago.
I suspect that’s because they aren’t really mad, just confused.
“I’ll clean up,” says Serena.
“Thanks,” I say. “You want to help me lock up the barn, Coen?”
He nods, and we head outside. I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to leave those two in there, but like Coen said, this isn’t my problem to solve.
Hell, maybe it isn’t even a problem. I interlace my fingers with his and follow him out to the yard.
The sun has lowered, hovering right above the horizon.
Distantly, the wranglers hoot and holler in the bunkhouse.
“You get along with everybody else?” I ask.
“How’d you mean?”
“The other wranglers?”
He shrugs, ambling so I can keep up with him. “Yeah, you know I was a cowboy first before I did the music thing.”
“I didn’t forget. You still fuck like a cowboy.”
He laughs, head back. “Oh yeah?”
“Ooh yeah.”
“But yeah, I get along fine with everybody.”
We’re quiet. The hard warmth of his palm is so calming.
We enter the barn, and I barely do more than follow at his heels while he measures out feed and checks every stall.
Then, we lock up and start back across the lawn.
Through the kitchen window, I can see the outlines of Jamie and Serena.
It looks like they’re talking a lot and doing a little bit of cleaning up.
That’s fine with me. It’ll get done when it gets done.
That puts a smile on my face.
“You want to sit on a porch a bit?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
We circle the house and sink down on the steps. The Maligators rest by the door, sprawled out and soaking up the last heat of the day. The Kid comes over briefly and licks Coen’s hand, nuzzling it for a few scratches. He flops back down and starts snoring again.
Coen sits on the step behind me, one arm around my neck. He rests his chin on the top of my head. “Never let me leave,” he says softly.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means, deep down, I’ll always want to work and write, but I never want to leave home base.”
I’m quiet, thinking hard.
“You have to keep writing,” I say finally. “It’s just what you do.”
He lets out a sigh. “I know.”
“Maybe a book?”
“Hmm, maybe. The whole thing with writing—making any kind of art, really—is you got to fill up the tank with real life. Otherwise, it doesn’t taste like anything.
One day, in a few weeks or months here, I’ll wake up and start writing something that gets me back in the saddle.
For right now, I’d like to live it for a bit. ”
I lean into him. He’s a rock solid wall around me.
“I get it,” I whisper. “Thank you for not asking me to leave.”
“Leave this ranch? Nah, baby, I’d never ask you to leave. It’s your home.”
My throat is tight, eyes wet, but in the best way.
“It’s your home now too,” I say.
We’re both quiet for a long time. Faintly, the wranglers start to settle. Cattle low in the west field. My heart flutters in my chest, beneath his forearm.
“I love you,” I whisper, voice fragile.
He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t miss a beat.
“I love you too.”