Ten
Sarah
Oh, I had needed this.
Time out in the open air. Time away from Peter.
Even though I wished he was with me, maybe it was better that he wasn’t. The conversation I’d had with Hollie early yesterday morning reverberated in my mind.
“I’m worried Peter’s reluctance will ruin the entire week for you.”
Hollie had nailed it. I almost felt foolish, the way I rushed to Texas with stars in my eyes.
The way I’d hung my last hope on this—the fresh air at a remote ranch.
My lungs ached as I emptied them on a long sigh.
My “plan” was to daily propose an easy-going itinerary so that Peter and I could do one fun thing together then relax.
Yesterday we had breakfast at the big house then went swimming and had a picnic at a spot Hollie recommended on the Guadalupe River.
Despite it being October, the water was deliciously warm.
Then we came back, napped, listened to our audiobook in the hammock, and had dinner.
It was a very chill, slow plan and should’ve been fun.
But it was so awkward.
Peter went along with everything I told him with zero heart or effort whatsoever.
Even at the river, he got in, but he wouldn’t swim with me, play a game, chat, nothing.
He just sat on the shallow bank and let the water flow around him.
He made it crystal clear that he didn’t want to do anything, and worse…
He didn’t want me.
All day, my stress levels had wrecked havoc on my insides. I nibbled my food and balled my fists, trying to quell the anger burning me from the inside out. I willed the tremor out of my voice, and coaxed myself to stay rational.
But this morning, he wouldn’t even get out of bed for breakfast.
So I ate alone.
Then I went back to the fifth wheel to pump him up for the day’s plan.
But he put his ear buds in and told me to have a nice time.
If we broke, it would be Peter’s fault. How much more could I do? I was trying so hard.
Maybe he thought sitting in bed would ruin my day. Well, it wouldn’t.
I planned on having a fantastic time.
The best day ever.
Cooper slowed Sprinkles until she was in-step with Praline.
“So, Hollie said you guys wanted a pretty easy ride.
I planned to just go around the perimeter of Meadowbrook and stay near the pastures so that we wouldn't encounter any branches or slopes or anything.” He glanced up at me. “You still want to do that?”
“You know what, I’d love something more interesting.”
“I figured.” He made a soft kissing sound and pulled Sprinkles’ reins to the left. Praline followed her without any direction from me, matching her gait. “We can do the ridge then cross the creek and ride the hills on Kent’s property.”
“The neighbors let you trail ride on their land?”
“Yep.”
“That’s nice.”
“It’ll add about an hour to the ride though. We won’t get back till about one-thirty or so.”
I shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
After a few quiet minutes, Cooper broke the silence. “So, why didn’t Peter come?”
Surprised by his direct question, I laughed a little. “Well, he isn’t a fan of doing right now.”
“What happened to him?”
“He had an accident.”
“Yeah, I know. But how did he go blind from it?” He lifted a shoulder. “Seems like something out of a movie.”
“I’ve thought the same. Basically, he got a traumatic brain injury.
He’s what we call cortically blind, meaning the part of the brain that accepts visual messages”—I pointed a spot on the back of my head—“is damaged. Not his eyes. Which is why his eyes still respond to visual stimuli, his pupils still dilate, and stuff like that.”
“How does that even happen?”
“Brain contusions. His car was hit twice from two different directions.” I shook my head, disbelieving how immune I’d become to the words.
How numb I was to the story that ruined my life.
“His brain got slammed around in his skull so much it bruised and…and didn’t heal.
” I shrugged. They were just hard facts at this point, details about another dimension of reality.
After a long silence, Cooper clicked his tongue. “I’m guessing that wasn’t on your bingo card.”
“Yeah, definitely not.”
“He went to rehab?”
“He did. We went to a live-in facility where Peter was trained how to do self-care tasks, use a kitchen, read braille, utilize technology, navigate, and a thousand other things.”
“You went with him?”
“Yes.” I lifted my chin, offering a smile. “I can read and write in braille, actually.”
“That’s cool.” Cooper’s cheek twisted with a half smile. “Well, if he changes his mind and wants to take a ride, I can bring you back out.”
“He won’t. But, I appreciate the offer anyway.” Not wanting to talk about Peter anymore, I changed the topic. “You went to rehab too, right?”
“Yeah. Can’t blame it on brain trauma though.”
“What happened to you?” I already knew, courtesy of the Thompson grapevine, that Cooper overdosed a couple summers ago. But I figured he knew what happened to Peter, too, and we were just making conversation.
His saddle creaked as he shifted in it, passing the reins from his left hand to his right. He glanced into the distant trees as if avoiding my question. But slowly, he answered. “It was for addiction recovery.”
“How long were you there?”
“Eighteen months.”
“That’s a long time. When did you get back?”
“January.”
“And how’s the sober life treating you?”
He gave a huff, the sound laced with annoyance. “Like shit. You’d think eighteen months would’ve fixed me.”
I shook my head. “No, I understand. Training and therapy can only go so far. It’s a lot harder in the real world.”
He grunted in agreement.
I didn’t know much about Cooper outside of the vague stories Bea had shared with the family.
Quickly, I took in his features. He looked good—his face had a healthy golden glow and his arms were tanned and trim.
He didn’t wear a cowboy hat like Tag, but a ball cap, the bill turned backward over a low messy bun knotted against his neck.
Wisps of ash brown curls had escaped around his temples and a five o’clock shadow obscured the details of his cheeks and chin.
He had haunting grey eyes and black spandex sleeve over his left arm.
Honestly, now that I thought about it, he looked a lot like Wren. Strikingly so.
I wasn’t sure how the gene pool worked so that a baby girl could look like her uncle, but they couldn’t deny each other.
“So, how long have you been sober?”
His jaw feathered as he chewed on his words. “Not as long as you might think.”
“That’s tough. I’m sorry.” Then I blurted my next words without thinking. “My father is an alcoholic. So, I get the struggle.”
“Really?” His gaze turned toward my face.
“Yeah, he has been my entire life. I’m surprised the habit hasn’t killed him yet.”
“What was that like? Growing up with him?”
I sucked a breath through my teeth. “Tough. Everything pissed him off—the slightest inconvenience sent him into a rage. And he directed a lot of those feelings at my mom. She shielded me from it as much as she could, but she also tried to protect herself. Her strategy was to micromanage everything…I couldn’t even breathe too loud when I was in the house.
” It crossed my mind that I was oversharing, but Cooper didn’t seem uncomfortable.
“She has dedicated her life to keeping a bitter man happy, which is a mission doomed to fail.”
He gave a thoughtful hum. “Do you talk to them much now?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I try to, but it’s hard for me to see her. She’s so wrapped up in him that she doesn’t take care of herself. But Peter and I have been together since we were fifteen, and good friends longer than that, so the Thompsons feel like my real family.”
“At least you’ve got them.”
“They’re great. What about you? Do you and Tag talk to your people?”
He hesitated. “Not really. Tag doesn’t know his dad. Mine isn’t worth knowing, to be honest. He’s been a drunk my whole life, too. And my mom’s an addict. I try to check in every once in a while since she’s all by herself, but…she’s not easy to have a relationship with.”
“I’m sorry, Cooper.”
“It is what it is. Sounds like you know.”
“Not really. I had one sober parent, and that makes a huge difference.”
“Yeah, but addiction can take a thousand different shades, can’t it?”
Furrowing my brow, I asked, “What do you mean?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe she was addicted. To him.”
I puffed a breath, amazed he picked up on that.
“Yeah, you’re right. I guess she was.” I’d wondered so many times why my mom didn’t leave my dad.
We could’ve been happy together. Dad drained every speck of joy and life from my mother but she still stayed, still fought for him.
She became a puppet for his pleasure, sacrificing everything.
Even me.
I shifted in my seat, noting the dull ache in my tail bone. Turning the conversation back to something positive, I forced a smile. “You’ve got everyone at Meadowbrook. It always feels like a family here.”
“Yep.” He sounded unconvinced.
“And you look like Wren.”
At that, Cooper’s face lit with a genuine smile. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“You must look like your mom.”
He nodded. “Taggart genes are strong, I suppose.”
“I saw you give her a cookie under the table, by the way.”
He lifted his right hand, suppressing a laugh with the back of it. For the first time, a small fire danced in his eyes as he forced away a huge grin. He was smitten with little Wren, too. “You didn’t tell, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. That’s our secret.”
Our conversation lulled as a steep incline stole our focus.
Cooper pointed out the edges of Meadowbrook’s property and a few things on the horizon.
The panoramic view from the top of the ridge stole the breath from my lungs.
Instantly, I knew I needed to experience a sunrise right here.
Right where the open sky met the distant hills.
Maybe I could arrange that.