Chapter 44
Cody
I’ve been up since three thirty.
Finished the morning hunt and dropped off clients at the lodge for lunch. Now they’re packing their stuff and we’re headed back to the airport. I’ll be waiting there for a little until the next group gets in.
My body’s running on autopilot, but my mind’s stuck back at home. On the fight. On Karissa.
I keep replaying it over and over, the way she snapped, the way I snapped, the way I walked out and let the door close harder than I meant to.
I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I definitely shouldn’t have joked about sex like it was a fix-it button.
She was crying out for help and I didn’t show any empathy, I just gave her a hard-ass pep talk about powering through.
Like a rookie. I am a rookie, but I don’t want to be.
I can take guys out to shoot birds, make ’em want to book another hunt with us.
I can pull a trailer through a muddy field in the dark, fix a busted blind with nothing but zip ties and a pocketknife.
I can run full days on three hours of sleep, soaked to the bone, hands numb, back aching, and still get up the next morning and do it again.
But last night, I couldn’t even figure out how to talk to my wife.
I left a note this morning, before I left.
Something dumb like, “I won’t be home until late but I promise we’ll figure it out tomorrow.
” Of course I told her I still loved her too.
Part of me feels like it was a stupid move because she hasn’t texted me at all, and I guess I thought she would.
It would make me feel less like a jackass if she did.
But here I am, coming in the house at 10 p.m., clicking the door shut behind me as soft as I can manage. The lights are off, except the one above the sink; we always leave that one on. Emma’s bedroom door is shut, and I hear her sound machine just beyond it.
I drop my keys in the dish by the door, toe off my boots, and step inside. The kitchen is spotless, which can be rare. The dishwasher is humming and my note’s still on the counter, but it’s not where I left it. Which means she had to have read it.
My chest tightens when I see her curled up on the couch. A blanket is pulled up to her shoulders, the monitor and her phone charging on the coffee table. Like this was planned, like she meant to sleep here. Didn’t want to sleep next to me.
It isn’t until I get closer that I see the mascara marks on her pillow she took from our bed. I spin my hat around backwards and kneel down beside her. I hesitate but then brush her hair away from her face. She stirs a little but doesn’t open her eyes.
“Baby,” I whisper.
She hums in response, half asleep.
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t respond, but her eyes peel open slowly, tired and red.
I slide one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and lift her carefully. “Come on.”
“I don’t want to,” she murmurs, voice scratchy.
“I know,” I whisper back. “But you need to.”
I ease her down onto the bed, steadying her as she sits there. She looks…lost. Like she doesn’t know what to say, or maybe like she has nothing to say.
“I know we’re not on good terms right now. We need to talk, and I promise, tomorrow night we will. We’ll figure this out,” I say gently, because I don’t want her to think I’m mad. I’m not. I’m mad at myself for how this all escalated.
She nods, understanding, and then reaches for the blankets.
“I love you,” I remind her, leaning down and pressing my lips to her forehead.
“I love you too,” she states. Which is the best thing I’ve heard all day.
* * *
After another successful day of hunting, I’m looking forward to the evening with Karissa.
Dad and Jesse cornered me earlier, saying I was so off yesterday.
They practically had to beat it out of me before I admitted Karissa and I weren’t doing the best. I told them we had plans to talk later, and of course Jesse took it one step further, suggesting I should ask someone to watch Emma so we’d have no distractions.
Naturally, before I could even finish asking, Addison was already agreeing. Knowing her and that boldly passionate love she’s got for babies, she’s bound to have a honeymoon baby. And Wesley? He’ll just agree. Guy doesn’t stand a chance at saying no to her.
It’s not easy raising a baby. Starting off marriage with one right out of the gate like I did was a sharp learning curve. If I had it my way, my advice to anyone getting married would be simple—Wait a little. Enjoy the quiet first.
Karissa’s in the shower, and I’m getting the diaper bag together so I can take Emma to Addison’s.
I smell it before I see it.
That awful stench coming from the tiniest butt in this room. Emma’s in the jumper, completely unbothered, chewing on that crinkly book she likes, watching some show that is almost more annoying than Elmo.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” I huff. I just changed her.
I walk toward her even though I dread it. She looks up at me, all wide eyes and two-toothed grin. Innocent. I slowly pull her out of the contraption. And all down both her legs, through the light purple fabric, is undeniably…a full blowout.
I tuck my lips and look back at her bright brown eyes.
“Emma Rose,” I scold, and she laughs. Of course.
I let out a slow breath through my nose, and cross out of the room and toward hers.
“Alright, ya little poop machine,” I mutter, laying her down on the changing table and looking at her as a whole, trying to figure out the best way to handle this biohazard situation. I catch her grinning again, sucking on her hands and kicking her feet as if she’s growing impatient.
“This isn’t funny,” I tell her.
She laughs again.
Getting her undressed without smearing it everywhere is nearly impossible. She’s wiggly and she’s trying to touch it. My heart is beating faster because all I envision is her somehow managing to paint it all over the wall right in front of me if I look away for even a split second.
“Mommy shouldn’t leave me alone with you. You could’ve saved this for Addison, you know,” I mutter.
She babbles something back and kicks her feet like she’s proud of herself.
By the time I’ve got her wiped down and into a clean diaper and fresh outfit, Karissa’s out of the shower and getting dressed in our room. I walk in holding Emma in one arm and the grocery bag with the unsalvageable outfit tied shut inside. Karissa’s eyes shift from me to the bag and she laughs.
“Oh.” She smiles and shifts into that sweet baby voice. “Did you give Daddy a run for his money?”
“Yeah. She did. And she thinks it’s funny.”
“Of course she does. She threw her bowl of oatmeal on the floor this morning and then spit out her milk. And laughed.”
I blow a raspberry on Emma’s cheek, finishing it with a kiss before setting her down on her feet. She stays upright, steady as always. She hasn’t taken those first steps yet, but you can see she’s thinking about it.
“Riss,” I say, low and careful, not wanting Emma to catch on. She’s a stinker. The second she sees we’re talking about her, she’ll plop down and pretend she’s incapable of everything.
Karissa catches my eye, then glances down.
Emma’s still upright, wobbly, her arms slightly out like she’s figuring out her own balance.
We both stand there, still as statues, holding our breath as we watch her lift one foot and take a step.
I smile. Karissa covers her mouth like she’s trying not to make a sound.
Emma takes another step, wobbly, but steady enough, and then looks up at Karissa with that cheesy little grin and a scrunched nose, like she knows she’s doing something pretty cool right now.
Karissa slowly squats down, arms out. “Good job…come here.”
Emma laughs and takes two more quick steps, and Karissa just barely catches her before she face-plants.
“Yay!” Karissa cheers, and I clap.
“Good job, Em. That’s how you do it.”
Karissa looks over at me, smiling, but I don’t miss the shimmer in her eyes or the way her lip trembles.
“Aw. Ha, sweetheart…” I wrap an arm around her neck and pull her into a side hug, pressing a kiss to her temple
“She’s growing too fast,” she sniffles, wiping under her eye with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
I nod, squeezing her in closer. “We want her to grow, though. Think about how fun this next stage’ll be. She can explore more and learn.”
Emma looks up at me, eyes wide and innocent, like she hasn’t got a clue what we’re even talking about. Then, out of nowhere, she throws both arms out like she’s demanding her turn with me.
I laugh and take her, shifting her onto my hip, still keeping Karissa tucked close under my arm. Emma babbles like she’s telling me all about her big accomplishment.
“Yeah, you did good, sweetheart,” I tell her, kissing the top of her soft hair. “First steps. That’s a big deal.”
I know Karissa and I still have things to talk about tonight, but this moment…
it makes things feel lighter. Not perfect, but better than we’ve been.
This is what she needs—me showing up, being here, just us.
And in two weeks, when the season wraps, I’ll be around more.
I’ll step up more. For her. For Emma. For us.