Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Hollie
Present day - June
The ranch was unusually quiet for a Monday afternoon. All weekend, I’d stayed busy with guests and preparations for Tag, Bea, and Cooper to return home, and Jesse left for a rodeo before lunch on Friday. Even though he came to breakfast, we hadn’t talked again since our conversation in the barn.
Even though I was able to smile at my girls and take care of my duties, inside I was numb.
My heart quivered under a burden I couldn’t understand.
Homesickness blended with grief churned in my gut, and my every thought was storm-tossed and frantic.
Before I left town, I worried Garrett would notice we were gone and demand me home per our parenting agreement, but… he didn’t even notice.
And that hurt a lot more than it should.
He wasn’t good to me. I knew that. And the fact that I still wanted him made me wonder if I was insane. Why was I homesick for our instability? Why did I miss placating him? Why did I feel lost at sea when I wasn’t winning his approval?
Eventually, I’d have to go back to our big house where all my dreams were laid to rest. But sitting in the mansion Garrett bought felt like waiting for him to come home—and that was a pipe dream. My brain was finally accepting the reality: he wouldn’t be back.
But, if we didn’t go home, where would we go?
We couldn’t hide out at Meadowbrook forever.
And I couldn’t keep living with Tag and Bea.
They’d be turning the spare bedroom into a nursery soon.
Also, Jesse was here at Meadowbrook. Even though my imagination could dream up a beautiful future with him, it was just that—imagination.
Because I was nowhere close to ready for another relationship and, if I stayed, Jesse and I becoming an item might be inevitable.
I needed to spend some time on my own, healing, before I even thought about another man.
I could get an apartment, but that house was the only home my children knew. They already felt the instability of their dad abandoning them. Was moving them to a new house really the right thing to do?
It suddenly seemed like the world held no place for us. By all accounts, I was free. Signing those divorce papers should’ve given me independence, but the soul-rending truth brewed deep within me, quietly dashing my heart to pieces.
My heart would always be his prisoner.
After cleaning up lunch, I walked outside to sit on the porch swing with the girls.
It was breezy and I craved some warmth and fresh air after being trapped in the kitchen all day.
Thinking about Garrett so many times over the weekend made me depressed.
Sunshine would perk me up. I took the book I’d been reading, and the girls grabbed their dolls.
I rounded the corner of the wraparound porch, stopping short when I saw Cooper there on the porch swing.
He wore a grey t-shirt and black gym shorts.
Dark purple circles under his eyes highlighted his thick five-o’clock shadow on his unnaturally pale face.
His gaze was heavy, roaming the distant landscape as his foot pushed the bench in a slow rhythm.
The chains popped and creaked with the motion.
Empathy pulsed to life in my spirit, pushing my own hurts aside.
My eyes prickled with warmth at the sight of him—alive. Even though he had arrived last night, Tag, Bea, and Cooper went straight to their respective bedrooms, worn out from the week-long hospital stay. I’d seen Tag at breakfast this morning, but had yet to see Cooper or Bea.
He glanced up as the floorboards whined beneath my feet.
I offered him a smile. “Hi, Cooper.”
He immediately looked away. “Hey.”
“Mind if I join you?”
He hesitated before scooting a little to the right. The breeze brought his scent my way, wrapping me in a clean, spicy smell. His hair, still damp from a shower, was pulled into a low bun with wisp-like curls escaping and drying around his face.
If he didn’t look so miserable all the time, he’d be handsome.
“Did you get caught up on sleep?”
“All I’ve done for the last week is sleep.”
“That sounds nice,” I joked. Inwardly, I cringed. Small talk felt daunting. I didn’t want to ask prying questions, but I did want to be his friend. Finding that balance required caution, not jokes.
Thankfully, he grunted—and it almost sounded like a laugh.
“How are you feeling?”
“Terrible.”
“Will that last a while?”
He shrugged. “Doctors said it might. Told me to just lay low.”
“That’s a good idea. Your body tried to die after all.”
He snorted again, probably surprised at my candidness. Then he gave a bitter chuckle. “Yep, but I got a miracle instead.” He spat out the word miracle, like he resented the idea.
Cooper had given me an open door, left it wide open for me to walk through. I dialed in as much gentleness as I could. “You sound like you don’t believe in miracles.”
He mumbled. “I just didn’t want one.”
His comment stole the wind from my sails. I sucked a deep breath. “I won’t tell you how grateful you should be for another chance. I’m sure you’ve gotten an earful of that already.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I quieted my voice so the girls wouldn’t hear. “I—wanted to die one time.”
Cooper’s gaze snapped up, the heat of his gaze searing the side of my face. The animosity in his tone had emptied. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I was upset about something and drove on the mountain roads not too far from where I live. I was going too fast on purpose because”—I shrugged—“I kind of hoped my luck would run out and fate would have its way with me. I ended up hitting a ditch instead. My airbag deployed, and that was it. At first, I was disappointed.”
Cooper didn’t look away. “So…who fucked you up?”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little at his crass question. “My ex-husband.”
“What’d he do?”
“What didn’t he do?”
“You divorced him?”
“Actually, he divorced me.” I tried to smile. “Left and moved in with another woman.”
Cooper shook his head, his indignance uncharacteristic on his typically nonchalant expression. He huffed, the sound tinged with annoyance. “He sounds like one stupid son of a bitch to do that to someone as nice as you.”
My heart warmed at Cooper’s unintentional compliment. “Thanks, Cooper.”
In the following quiet, he pushed us a little harder on the swing.
I tucked my foot under my thigh, letting him do all the work.
That’s when I realized he wasn’t wearing a spandex sleeve on his left arm.
The top of his forearm had no obscene tattoo or anything cover-worthy.
For a few minutes, we swung in comfortable silence, feeling the breeze, and watching the girls play on the porch.
Finally, he nodded at my book. “That any good?”
I plucked Where the Crawdads Sing off my lap and clasped it to my chest. “Oh yes. This is my third time reading it.”
“Must be some book.”
“It is. The main character in this story kind of reminds me of you.”
His steely grey irises melted with curiosity as his eyebrows lifted.
I explained, “Her name is Kya. She was abandoned by everyone in her family, and she grows up all alone next to a swamp. The people in the nearby town look down on her for how wild and uncivilized she is. But she’s very intelligent and”—I cast him a sideways glance—“she loves birds. She just needed someone to give her a chance.”
Cooper frowned slightly. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
I laughed.
“Except for the bird thing.”
“Do you read? You can borrow it if you’d like.”
“I hate reading.” He paused. “What happens at the end?”
“That, Cooper, is called a spoiler.”
He rolled his eyes with a light scoff. “I’m never gonna read it anyway.”
I smiled, wondering why Cooper felt dear to me. Even before his hospital stay, a sisterly kinship drew me to him. “She ends up finding someone who loves the birds just as much as she does and isn’t afraid of her reputation.”
He grimaced. “So it’s a romance.”
“Only slightly. It’s also a murder mystery. I gave you a pretty bad explanation.”
“Speaking of birds…” He pointed toward the red and yellow hummingbird feeder I’d set up on a shepherd’s hook about fifteen feet from the front porch. I grinned, happy he’d noticed his welcome-home present. “Did—did you set that up?”
“Yeah, I did.”
His throat worked hard on a swallow, his palm opening then squeezing his thigh. His voice strained, now a gentle rasp. “Why would you do that?”
“I thought you would like it.”
“It was a waste of your time. It’s—too late in the season to get hummingbirds. They’ve already settled around their food sources.” He tried to reason, but his voice cracked with emotion. “I—I don’t know why you did that.”
I watched his face as a million unspoken feelings crossed his expression. His eyes shuddered between light and dark, pain and hope. I answered as matter-of-factly as I could. “Because I am your friend. And you like hummingbirds. Maybe we’ll get some late-comers this year.”
“That would take a miracle.”
“Well”—I bumped his elbow with mine—“you’ve already gotten one, right?”
His eyes fell to his lap, the sorrow in his words unmistakable. “I won’t be here to see them anyway. I…I have to go to rehab.”
I stiffened my legs, forcing us to stop so I could hear him more clearly. “Rehab?”
He nodded, his throat working hard again. “In Austin. It’s…a six month program. But I can stay up to eighteen months if I want.”
“Are they requiring you to go?”
He shook his head. “No, I consented.”
“That was very brave.”
“Was it?” A mirthless smile wavered on his cheeks. “Then why do I feel like a coward?”
Oh, my heart. I wanted to fold Cooper into a hug. “Maybe because the world says big strong guys like you shouldn’t need help. And it’s shameful when you do. But those are lies. You know that.”
Cooper reached up to swipe a curl off his forehead, and in that split second I glanced at his arm again.
There were pock marks—scars in varying degrees of color.
So many that the edges blurred together, giving the appearance of one large scar spanning the entire inside of his arm.
Courage I didn’t know I possessed traveled into my hand as I reached out and gently touched Cooper’s wrist. “What is that?”
He huffed in annoyance but showed me his arm without hesitation. “Cigarette burns.”
“Did you do this?”
“Most of them.”
Most?
My stomach clenched. “That looks painful.”
“Nah. Not really.” He tucked his arm away, signaling that he didn’t want to answer questions.
For a little while, we talked about reading. More about birds. He lit a cigarette and told me about the rehab center and what would be required of him there. We talked about the ranch. Then he asked me about my family—what it was like growing up with so many siblings and parents.
I considered giving him the basics, skirting around the deep stuff.
But I didn’t. I practiced.
I showed him my nails and even told him about Kayleigh’s baby.
And before I knew it, an entire two hours had flown by. The girls had helped themselves to snacks in the kitchen and had constructed a barbie house out of towels, porch furniture, and gravel.
Hating to leave him alone, I lingered as long as I could. But around four o’clock he whispered, “I need to go pack my bags. I have to leave tomorrow.”
“Will you be at breakfast?”
He shook his head. “We aren’t leaving until eight, but I probably won’t bother getting up.” He looked at me, flashing me a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
He pointed to where my book sat on the swing. “You don’t mind if I borrow it?”
My eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Not at all!”
“I’m just going to read the last page.”
I laughed. “Don’t you dare.”
He reached down to grab it and flipped the pages through his thumb, grinning genuinely this time. “If rehab sucks enough, maybe I’ll read it.”
“Then I’ll cross my fingers that it sucks.”
He huffed a laugh as we held a beat of eye contact. I wasn’t sure why Cooper let me be his friend, but I was grateful. I wished I knew how to be his friend over the miles.
“Can I hug you goodbye? I might not catch you again before you leave.”
He nodded, lifting his arms. Our hug was all shoulders and arms, tight, a hug two friends would share. But while my chin was over his shoulder, a low buzzing sound called my attention. I drew away, looking for the source, when a colorful dot darted through my peripheral.
Cooper, hearing it too, frowned and turned away from me.
Then we both gasped.
A hummingbird with a maroon throat landed on the feeder’s perch.
I gripped his forearm, my jaw falling open. Cooper stared in stunned silence, his hand moving to cover mine on his arm. We stood shoulder to shoulder, watching in rapt awe as that elaborately colored hummingbird tested every plastic yellow flower, sampling the food from all sides.
It landed, preening its feathers on the perch.
When I dragged my eyes away from the bird, I found Cooper’s welling with moisture. He swallowed deep once, then again, fighting to keep his tough guy aura in place. Without looking away from the bird, he whispered, “It’s a male ruby-throated hummingbird.”
I squeezed his arm, and he squeezed me back.
Then the bird zoomed over the roof of the house.
When Cooper looked down at me, a tear streaked down his cheek. He didn’t wipe it away, just stared at me, like he wasn’t sure what to say.
My own tears blurred my vision. “You got another miracle, Cooper.”
He nodded, unable to respond.
“You’ll get more—I just know it. And when you’re back from rehab, there’ll be so many you’ll lose count.”
He pulled me into one more goodbye hug, this one a little more desperate.