Page 104 of We Drank the Dawn

“Seems like he only wants one thing. He had his hands all over you.”

“Maybe I want hands all over me—did that idea occur to you?”

No, it hadn’t. Jackie might’ve been different from her family, but she still held—or at least she used to hold—Thompson family values. And the Thompsons weren’t into hook-ups. They had been raised to look for a spouse, not a fling. “You don’t have to be defensive, Jackie. I just love you and want you to be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“But you usually don’t pick guys like him.”

She laughed. “Well, I guess my standards had to give a little. Sue me. If I have to wait for the perfect, marriage-material man then I might as well join a convent and be a freaking nun.”

I took a sharp breath. “Does this have anything to do with the fact…” When my words lagged, she waved her hands like yes? “With the fact that you miss Henry?”

She tossed her head back, incredulous. “Why would you even ask me that? Of course not.” Her answer was so perfected that I would’ve believed her had she not averted her eyes. Had a hard swallow not tugged at her neck. “Henry is so far off my radar…it’s laughable…” Her voice lost stamina.

She tossed me a patronizing smile, pretending to be unaffected by my disapproval. “Listen, you’ve got enough to worry about right now. Don’t waste your energy on me. I’m having a great time.”

Andre gave a little honk from the drive, startling us both.

Quickly, she stepped forward, pulling me in a quick hug. We said our goodnights and they zoomed down the street.

THIRTY-FIVE

Peter

Sunday morning, the table felt empty since Tag, Jesse, and Rudy were all on the road. Bea was cooking meals all weekend, and the breakfast she served, huevos rancheros, hit the spot to a degree only Tex-Mex truly can. In a few minutes, Cooper and I would head to the barn so he could train me on the feed rounds.

Even though I didn’t love working the ranch, I didn’t hate it here. And, surprisingly, it only took a few days for me to get acclimated to my surroundings. True to their word, Tag and Jesse gave me one day with the ropes, but that was all I needed. I’d been getting around fine with my cane ever since.

After my conversation with Dad last night, I’d been keeping a mental list of the fires I needed to put out, and the next big one was Bea. The last real conversation we had was an entire week ago when she came down to the fifth wheel after Sarah left the ranch.

The tearful words she’d said to me scorched my conscience.

“You changed, Peter. I hardly know you anymore.”

Taking my father’s advice would mean reaching out to her. She was right, I had changed. Because the Peter I used to be wouldn’t have let Bea’s wounds fester for days on end. Tempted to let hopelessness cloud my thinking again, I took a deep inhale and lifted my shoulders.

One fire at a time.

When she came to drop the dish bin on the table, I stopped her. “Bea.”

She froze. “Yes?”

How was she looking at me? Was there disdain in her brown eyes? Disappointment? Annoyance? I tried to push away my imagination and just lean into the darkness for once. “You free after dinner tonight?”

“I put Wren to bed at 7:30.”

“After that then?” I lifted a shoulder. “I thought maybe we could talk.”

“Okay. Come to my porch.”

***

My cane clacked over the gravel, the clicks echoing back when I neared a vehicle parked outside of Bea’s cabin. Chest tight, I slowly ascended her front steps, counting each stair as I did.

The mid-October air rested comfortably against my bare arms. At her door, I lifted my hand and softly knocked, not wanting to disturb Wren’s bedtime.

Bea threw the door open, a little breathless as a soft whine came from her hip. “Hey, sorry, Peter. She’s refusing to go down.”