Thirty-five
THIRTY-FIVE
Tag
T he last person I wanted to see right now was Cooper Hayes.
Why now, of all moments?
When I wanted him around, he vanished. When I wanted to kill him for showing up, he had the audacity to get out of his truck and smile like he didn’t walk out on me after we struck a deal.
My blood went from heated with desire to boiling with rage in two point five seconds.
Maybe it was for the best. Because I was one breath away from kissing Bea. My body still pulsed with desire to kiss her. To taste her until we collapsed on the grassy bank and surrendered to each other.
Do I really want that?
The sensations running through my body were so conflicting. If given the opportunity to give myself to her, would I do it?
I didn’t even know.
I knew I wanted to. But wanted and would were different.
I wanted Bea more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. But I was too coward to be honest, too enslaved to memories. And it would take ten thousand beautiful memories with Bea to overturn even one that haunted me .
My thoughts sounded like a broken freaking record.
I glanced back. She was clothed now. Good .
Cooper slammed his Nissan truck door, the hinges squeaking. “Hey, buddy.”
I put my hands on my hips. “You got some nerve, Coop.”
He gave me a smile, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn out jeans. Showing up out of the blue as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “What’re you talking about? I’m just making a social call on my favorite brother.”
“Social call, my ass. What do you want?”
He didn’t answer the question. Instead he leaned to the side, peering around me. He lifted his chin toward the pond. “Who you got back there?”
I opened my mouth to tell him to scram when she stepped out from behind me. “Hey, uh, I’m Bea.”
She smiled at him. Of course. That unhindered, love-for-all smile.
I wanted to tuck her away, push her into the truck, and kick up a cloud of dust. Bea wasn’t safe around Cooper. I took a tight breath as he walked directly toward us, coming all the way down on the dock to make a point.
The point? I will do whatever I want whenever I want to whoever I want.
He purposely bumped my shoulder as he brushed by. He extended his hand to Bea, the bright smile on his face almost redeeming the stained clothes he had on. Wow, he looked terrible. His hair was long and pulled into a greasy loop low on his neck. His dark beard was full and wiry. Lilac half circles under his eyes highlighted how bloodshot they were. He wore a long sleeve shirt, even though it was in the nineties.
“I’m Cooper.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“No, no. Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” He didn’t release her hand and glanced over at me. “I’m proud of you.”
“Shut up, Cooper.”
He lifted her fingers, giving her an obvious once over. Like she was cattle at an auction. A tense and uncomfortable laugh came from Bea. Before I could intervene, he spoke again. “Looks like you finally decided what side of the fence you’re on.”
Enough.
I reached over and grabbed his t-shirt, dragging him to the end of the dock and onto the grass. “I said shut up. ”
He stumbled backward when I let him go, his hands in the air by his face. But his eyes still lingered on Bea. Probably on her wet tank top. Her bra had soaked water through and her body might as well have been a neon, blinking sign. My fists clenched, and I stepped between them again.
He laughed. “No need to be protective. Just wanted to meet your, uh…”
“Friend.”
He laughed again. “Oh, Sammy, you’ve always been a terrible liar.”
My jaw squeezed tight. I closed my eyes against the fragmented memories that old name dredged up.
“Am I getting an invite to the wedding?”
Ignoring the need to correct his assumptions, I said, “What you’re gettin’ is a boot in your ass if you don’t tell me why you’re here. You had your opportunity. I gave everything I had to give you a chance. You’re not allowed to show up, goad me, and make Bea uncomfortable.”
“Goad?” He looked to Bea and thumbed at me with an eye roll. “Did you teach him that word?”
She shook her head, her eyes darting between the two of us.
“Coop, you got five seconds to cut to the chase.”
“Fine. I need some money.”
I scoffed. “Bea, get in the truck.”
She scampered to the passenger’s side as Cooper raised his voice. “I’m willing to work.”
“You were willin’ to work when I shelled out four grand. And we know how that went.”
He was hot on my heels as I fumbled with my keys and made a line for the truck. “Look, I was stupid, alright? I see that. I left and it was idiotic. I’m not gonna find work, a place to live, nothing.” He threw his hands up. “My buddy hightailed it in the middle of the night with the cash we were saving up.”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
“I have nowhere to go. Please, Sammy!”
I froze.
“Please, Sammy!”
An echo of pain.
Nausea, disgusting and hot, rose in my belly. As much as I loved Cooper, I hated him. He was my past, living and breathing in my face. A constant ache and putrid reminder of every single thing we’d been denied. We were both reaping the consequences of starving.
And not from lack of food.
My pain was a downpour on the inside. Everyday I tread as best I could. And the day I succumbed to it? Well, at least it’d just be me drowning in the flood.
But Coop?
Cooper was a tornado. Everyone and everything in his path was subjected to his pain.
And something in me was stuck—glitched—on Cooper as a kid. The kid who needed me and had no idea what to do without his big brother. He was lost unless I held his hand.
Why did it still feel that way?
And why did my chest still ache for our happiness? For our brotherhood? Why did his trainwreck still cause me so much regret?
I should’ve let it go by now.
I turned back to look at him.
Which was a mistake, because I saw the same hunger in him that gnawed at me every single day. I saw the same brewing storm. And I couldn’t handle the idea of sending him back into the rain all alone.
Walking this alone was hell. Living hell.
I ground my teeth for a second before answering the silent plea in his expression. “Meet me at the barn.”
His eyes flicked through the truck window to Bea.
I added, “ Not the house. The barn .”
He nodded and tailgated me up the drive.
I pulled the Chevy up to the front steps of the main house. Bea did what I asked, getting out and going straight inside. She must’ve sensed it wasn’t a good time for questions.
When I drove the truck around the barnyard, Cooper was already waiting, leaning against the barn, his fraying tennis shoe propped on the old planks behind him. I backed the end of the bed all the way up to the doors and threw it into park. I got out, brushed past Coop, and jerked the tailgate open.
I jumped into the truck bed and laced my fingers through the tight twine of an alfalfa bale. “These bags of pellets and alfalfa bales get stacked in the feed room. You know where.”
I tossed it at his feet. He looked at it then back at me, nudged it with his foot to infuriate me. “We can’t talk first?”
I looked down, the blood in my veins a simmer, dangerously close to boiling over again. “I can’t talk to you ‘til I blow off some steam. If you wanna work, prove it.”
He rolled his eyes, but bent to pick up the bale, his knot of hair flopping to the side. After a few minutes of agonizingly slow movement, he upped his pace. We stacked all the feed then I handed him a pitchfork. “Gotta muck and bring the horses in before dinner.”
He sighed but disappeared into a stall, calling back. “Am I invited to dinner?”
“You can have a plate, but no, you ain’t invited.”
“Hold up. A plate ? Don’t tell me you got that woman cooking for you.”
I said nothing, but felt my fingers tighten around the worn wooden handle of the pitchfork. I was both happy and annoyed by the stall walls. They shielded me from his smug expression, but were thin enough I could still hear him.
“Who is she?”
I pretended not to hear.
He raised his voice a little. “Sammy, who’s that girl? Where’d you get her?”
“She’s a guest on the ranch. Just stayin’ for a few weeks. ”
“A guest, huh?” He laughed. “Do you get handsy with all your guests?”
I shook my head, my jaw feeling like it might snap.
“If that’s Meadowbrook’s policy, maybe I should work in the hospitality department. Any openings?”
I shook the pitchfork, sifting out the wood shavings. The tool was a lifeline. Gripping it kept me from running into the next stall and beating the crap out of him.
“Does she cook you dinner?”
No response from me.
“Sammy, come on. Talk to me. Does she cook you dinner?”
“I don’t want to talk to you about Bea.”
“Oh, that’s right. Because she’s your friend. ” He moved into the next stall down, his voice getting further away as wheelbarrow tires squeaked. “Got a good ass on her, doesn’t she?”
I dropped the pitchfork in the shavings and put my hands on my hips. I took two seconds to steady my breathing in order to hear him better. “You better quit while you’re ahead, Cooper.”
“Why? You aren’t going to capitalize.”
I lifted my hat, raked a hand through my hair, and resettled it with a deep breath. “Capitalize? What are you talkin’ about?” He better not say what I predicted he might.
He laughed and paired my old name with strong profanity. “Are you blind? I’ve always known you were a coward. But, man, you need to wake up and smell the coffee. You’ve got a woman on your ranch. A woman. And God only knows how long it’s been since you’ve had some action.” His laughter morphed into a tsk of pity before he perked up. “But hey, if you aren’t willing to do the honors, I’d be happy to.”
My stomach flew into my ribcage. I turned on my heel and headed straight for Cooper’s stall as he continued, “The sweet ones are always surprising.”
He blanched when he saw me charge in.
I lost control. Grabbing the end of his pitchfork, I jerked it out of his hands and tossed it out of reach. Before Coop could back away, I fisted his t-shirt, reared back, and clocked him right in the lip.
When I released his shirt, he stumbled backward, smacked his backside against the wall, and slid down into the chips. One hand cradled his face and the other lifted in surrender, wild fear in his eyes.
He didn’t swing back. Probably due to shock. I’d never laid a hand on Cooper. Ever. We brawled as kids, obviously, but I’d never swung at him to hurt him. My role was the protector. We were hurt enough.
A moment of silence spread between us as we stood there, breathing heavy.
I looked down at him, chest heaving, knuckles aching. “Say somethin’ else about her. I dare you.”
He swiped his long sleeve against his mouth, spat blood, and said nothing.
“You done then?”
He nodded, slow and resigned.
“Let’s set somethin’ straight, right here and now.” I pointed down the barn corridor. “That woman is off limits. In every single way. Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look in her direction. If you toe the line even a hair, I will chase you off my property with a loaded pistol.”
Cooper looked down, drawing his knees up to his chest.
“This ranch is my house and if you’re stayin’ in my house, you do what you’re told. Understand?”
He nodded, not meeting my eyes.
“I’ve stuck my neck out for you more times than I can even remember. I’ve cleaned up your messes, shouldered your problems, given you money. I’ve thrown myself into the fire for you . You’re not gonna barge in and do whatever the hell you want. You’re a grown ass man and those days are over.”
He said nothing, didn't even move.
“Nod or somethin’ so I know you’re with me.”
“Okay!” He raised his voice, not happy about being bossed around.
“No women, no drinking, no drugs. You can do that somewhere else. No smokin’ in the barn. You work every day like the rest of us. We meet on the porch at 5:45 a.m. and don’t stop till the day’s tasks are done. Bea and Cade—don’t get anywhere near either of ‘em.”
His eyes flew to mine and he scoffed. “ Cade? Jesse’s kid?”
I nodded.
“Why wouldn’t I be able to go near him?” His voice rose in anger this time. “Think I’m gonna slip a five-year-old some drugs or something?”
“Listen.” I stepped closer again. “There’s no trust here. If there’s trust and brotherhood in our future it's because you’re gonna earn it back day by day. For now, all I know about you is you’re a functionin’ alcoholic, addicted to God only knows what, with different women every weekend, a convicted thief, and physically aggressive. You’re a tickin’ time bomb. I have no idea what you’re capable of.”
Cooper looked down. I couldn’t miss the hurt on his face. I hated it. I did. But Cooper couldn’t be my priority anymore. I didn’t have it in me to turn him away, but he’d do every single thing on my terms this time. I had people I cared about who needed me to put them first.
When he didn’t respond, I continued, “After dinner we’ll empty out the storage closet in the barn. You can stay there.”
“The barn ?”
“That’s what I have available.”
“What about a cabin?”
I shook my head. “They still have water damage.”
“What about the main house?”
“Bea’s there.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me stay in the barn like an animal.”
“Take it or leave it.”
He huffed in agitated surrender.
“Final thing. I’ll pay you when you’ve worked a month.”
“Is that even legal?”
“Oh, you want to do this the legal way? Perfect. I’ll get a W4 for you to sign and you can pay taxes like every other hard workin’ adult.”
“No, fine. I’ll take the monthly pay.”
“Alright then. A month first, then I’ll pay bi-weekly. If you last that long.”
He opened his mouth then shut it. He dropped his gaze to the hay and his tone softened. “Is…food included?”
Food .
A lot of unwanted memories flooded my brain. Cooper hungry. Me holding his hand walking to the nearest convenience store. The clerk asking where our parents were. Us counting down hours until the school lunch.
“You know…” I took a deep, tight breath. “In the last few years, you’ve really pissed me off more than I ever thought you could. But you’re my brother. And I’ve always done everything I can to make sure you don’t go hungry.”
Cooper’s gaze hesitantly sought out mine. He looked like my mother. Smaller stature, wide mouth, crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“I’m not sure what we’ll do about usin’ the kitchen. I need to think it through. For tonight, I’ll bring you a plate. You can use the barn toilet and sink. You have soap?”
He nodded.
“Good. You know where the hose is. It’s like bath water this time of year.”
He touched his lip and winced. “Thanks.”
“I don’t want your thanks. Just show up.”
“Okay.”
We finished mucking in silence then rounded up the horses as the sun set.
Later on, I took him a plate. Bea had made salsa chicken in one of Gran’s ancient crockpots. We ate it on flour tortillas with guacamole. When I delivered a plate to Cooper’s makeshift barn room, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.
His low whistle spoke for him. He pulled off the plastic wrap and dug straight in. While I was inside, he’d pushed the boxes, broken tack pieces, and random farm do-dads onto the right wall, and rolled out the mattress pad and sleeping bag against the left. His backpack was unzipped, and an array of personal items were meticulously arranged. A shave bag, a tiny stack of clothing, a Sports Magazine, and…a fancy camera with a zoom lens?
I leaned against the doorframe as he ate. Pointed to the camera with my boot. “Where’d you get that?”
“Bought it a while back. ”
“For what?”
“Pictures?”
“Obviously. But, what do you need a huge camera for?”
“Hobby, I guess.”
“That’s cool.”
He shrugged.
“How's your lip?”
“It’s alright.”
An awkward moment of silence stretched between us before Coop chimed back in. “You don’t have to stand there. I know you don’t want to be anywhere near me.”
“That’s not true.”
“You sure?”
“I just don’t like bein’ taken advantage of.”
He nodded like he understood.
“That all the clothes you got?”
“My buddy locked me out of the room we were renting. I left with what I had.”
“I’ve got extra.”
“That’s okay, I can?—”
“You look awful. I’ll bring some in the morning.”
“Okay.”
I turned to go.
“Tag?”
I glanced back.
He lifted a tortilla and a glob of shredded chicken splat on his paper plate. “Tell Bea thank you. I’d do it myself but I think it’s against the rules.”
I rolled my eyes but said, “Will do.”