Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Jesse
Tag was worried sick—the rodeo barely held his attention today.
He checked his phone constantly and talked to Bea every spare moment.
I was ninety-nine percent sure she spent the entire day with him via his bluetooth.
If it wouldn’t cost Meadowbrook a fortune to pack up and ditch Rio Grande, we’d already be home.
The moment that final event ended, we ran.
Cade had cried himself to sleep in the passenger seat.
I took a deep breath, trying to cleanse the tension bundling in my shoulders.
I rolled them back, adjusting my hands on the semi’s wheel and gear stick.
Moments like this made me wonder if I was doing a good job as a father.
I really tried, but the truth was that Cade didn’t have much of a life outside this ranch, and maybe I’d kept him too close over the years.
On the one hand, he was such a well-adjusted kid.
He communicated well and possessed incredible work ethic.
But, on the other hand, he melted when he was forced to separate from me.
I was patiently waiting for the day he could break away with confidence, but we were six years and counting—no break away on the horizon.
I constantly wondered if that was normal for a ten year old.
Because I had no idea what Cooper had involved himself with, I would not be taking Cade along when I went to pick him up. I told Cade he would stay and work with Tag. He burst into tears and they didn’t stop flowing until he dropped off to sleep.
I didn’t like leaving him behind either, but this was reality.
We wouldn’t always be able to stay together.
And I had to put my son’s physical safety over his emotional safety this time.
God only knew what on earth Cooper had done or the kind of person Greg was.
And I wouldn’t be rolling the dice with my child in the backseat.
Even if it was hell for both of us.
The truth was, Cade’s fears were the same ones that tortured me, too. These were the implications of loss, the long-term devastations no one even considered unless they were forced to walk the path themselves. Cade was terrified of losing me and he couldn’t even remember why.
I had to form a better plan for him tomorrow, regardless of Tag being willing to keep an eye on him. Tag had no flipping idea what to do with a happy kid, let alone one in distress. Bea was too sick to look after him, which left one person I had no business asking favors from.
Hollie.
A pit formed in my stomach at the idea of asking, but if he had a problem, she would help him—no doubt about that. She’d already saved his life once and was a skilled comforter, which I preferred to rough and tumble cowboys.
I watched the headlights streak over the white pulsing lines on the highway, my mind lulled by the gear stick vibrating in my hand. Asking Hollie for a favor after the way I treated her felt…pathetic, if I was straight up honest.
But I was running out of options.
Confident Cade was sound asleep, I dialed Hollie, the call immediately routing to the headset I wore while driving the semi. It rang long enough that I considered hanging up—it was late, after nine already. When I thought I was going to voice mail, her voice quietly answered, “Hello?”
“Hollie. Hi. I’m sorry for calling so late. Did I wake you?”
“Nope. I probably should be sleeping, but I’m reading.” She sounded sleepy. “Is everything okay?”
I drew a deep breath. “I think everything will be okay, and that’s what matters.”
“Oh no. What’s going on?”
“Once I get the semi unloaded, I’m going to crash for a couple hours then drive out to Cooper’s mom’s house to pick him up—if he’s still there anyway. And I don’t feel comfortable taking Cade.”
She gave a soft hum of understanding.
“Janice is an addict and I know that Cooper has had dealings with plenty of unsavory characters. I just don’t know if I should—”
“Jesse.”
I stopped.
“Cade can stay with us.”
Air rushed from my lungs, my shoulders falling a little. “He might be a nervous wreck, I don’t know.”
“I understand.”
“He’ll do an errand here and there or like run to the barn and grab something, but he’s never really been away from me, outside of school.”
“Does he know you’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“How’d he take it?”
“He cried himself to sleep.”
She made a soft tsking sound. “I’m sorry, Jesse.”
“I’m just sorry to inconvenience you.”
“Don’t be. The girls will be excited to hang out with him. When do you leave?”
“By six or so.”
“You want me to come down to the cabin after I make the cowboy breakfast?”
“Sure. He might need to sleep in a little though. I could set his alarm for around seven o’clock?”
“That will be fine. I’ll come get him.”
“We never lock it. So feel free to come in.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you so much, Hollie.” I took a deep breath to launch into my apology—now was as good a time as ever. But she cut off my chance by quickly saying goodnight and disconnecting.
It was almost 2 a.m. when we got the horses unloaded at Meadowbrook and trudged off to bed.
I sat in the driver’s seat of the 3500, pulling up the maps app and typing in the address Tag had sent me.
My mug of coffee sat in the cupholder, the steam fogging up the radio controls right above it.
I’d slept through the cowboy breakfast and opted to grab a few granola bars from our pantry.
I blinked, my eyes stinging with exhaustion as I tapped “go” and let the maps route.
Right as I cranked up the engine, the passenger’s door jerked open, startling me.
Tag slammed down into the seat and threw his hat on the dashboard.
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What are you doing?”
“Comin’ with.” He leaned forward to settle his mug of tea in the holder next to mine.
“Like hell you are.”
He lifted his hips, pulling his Glock 19 from the holster and shoving it into the glove compartment, which was a little crowded because my Sig P365 was in there, too. “Just drive, Jess.”
“No. Explain this. Yesterday we made a plan. And it didn’t include you tagging along.”
Tag closed his door, plunging us into the early morning darkness.
The sun hadn’t broken the horizon yet, but the sky had turned from black to purple, streaks of light preceding its arrival.
Tag’s gaze scanned the distance, his hand fretting over his knee for a moment.
“A couple times, I’ve sat down and tried to figure out what it was that changed me. ”
I waited, sure as the dawn he was about to say something profound.
“Bea has sat through some of the darkest moments of my life with no regard to her own wellbein’, how my pain might affect her, or how it might be heavy for her to carry.
She just showed up and hurt with me. She’s had bad days ‘cause of my bad days. And I used to feel real guilty about that…but…she wants to ache when I ache.”
Goosebumps raised on my arms. Man, if I didn’t know exactly what that felt like. I did the same thing for Laurel. I wanted to be in the trenches with her, hand in hand when she relived her nightmares.
He continued, “That’s what’s changed me. Not havin’ to be nobody’s problem anymore.”
I nodded, letting what he meant sink in.
“I don’t feel right about you goin’ to fetch my little brother.” He turned, his eyes finding mine in the dark. “I need to go. He’s my problem, and I want it that way.”
A few beats of quiet surrounded us.
Finally, I asked, “You sure about this, Tag?”
“Yep.”
“Does Bea know you’re leaving?”
“She encouraged it.”
I snorted at that, unsurprised to hear that Bea’s love egged on Tag’s. I took a deep breath and reached back to grab my seatbelt. “Alright then. Let’s roll.”
A couple hours later, we pulled into a neighborhood no one in their right mind would want to be in. The houses were close together, the exteriors trashy. Many had shutters hanging by a thread, collapsed decks, missing shingles, and broken windows. Old cars lined the road and trash cans overflowed.
Tag puffed an exhale. “This place has gone downhill.”
“It used to be nice?”
“Not nice. Just…livable.”
“How long’s it been?” I knew from experience that Tag going nonverbal was a bad sign. So, as long as I was around, we would keep talking.
He thought for a second, doing some mental math. “About seventeen years.”
“Seventeen years can change a lot.”
He nodded, his eyes clinging to a particular house as we passed it. His heel tapped repeatedly on the truck carpet. My heart rose to my throat as worry banded around my chest. I wanted Tag to be okay, but the closer we got to our destination, the more certain I was that he wouldn’t be.
We turned a corner, and there, plain as day, was the white Ford Ranger parked catty-corner in a yard against a rusted chain-link fence at a house that was in desperate need of a power-wash.
“Well, looks like he’s home,” I murmured. Even though finding Cooper here couldn’t mean good news, at least it meant we wouldn’t be on a wild goose chase.
“This ain’t anyone’s home. It’s prison.”
He swiped his hands down his jeans as I turned down the gravel-turned-grass driveway. A push mower sat mid-yard with the grass behind it cut short, but the surrounding grass maybe knee-high; whoever attempted to mow it had waited about four weeks too long. A bush hog would’ve worked better.
I threw it into park. “Pass me my gun.”
Tag opened the glove box and we both holstered our weapons.
I drew a deep breath. “You ready?”
“No.”
“Need a minute?”
“No.”
He pulled the door handle and so did I.
Immediately the scent of fresh cut grass hit my senses.
There were only twenty feet or so between the drive and the porch steps.
Nearing the front door, my hand hovered over my gun, prepared to pull it out because the door stood ajar—six inches open—allowing the putrid smell of human filth to pour out.
After a half-second glance through the opening, bile rolled up my throat.