Page 88 of We Drank the Dawn

I rolled my eyes. “No shit.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to share a tent with your cranky, prissy ass either. But they’re making me take you.”

Ignoring the insult, I asked, “Why? I tried asking Tag earlier when he called, but no one tells me anything anymore.”

Cooper groaned with annoyance. “Because you need to be babysat.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You’re handling everything as well as a newborn, and your sisters want you out of their hair.”

My skin prickled with embarrassment. “It’s not easy being⁠—”

“Nope. You pull the blind card, and I swear you’ll hitchhike.” The truck rumbled over the gravel, and in my opinion, he was taking the driveway way too fast. “Everyone around here is sick of hearing you bellyache about being blind. No one cares.”

I pressed my lips together, agitated because I had not been bellyaching. I hadn’t said a thing out loud. All I’d done is work my butt off and worry to death over Sarah. And I hadn’t said a thing to anyone. “Good. I don’t want anyone to care.”

“Good. Because I sure as hell don’t.”

We drove in icy silence for a few minutes as his comments rolled around in my head. Everything in me told me to ignore Cooper and not let him get to me, but the term bellyache had shoved a dagger straight into the heart of my pride. I had handled this change in my life with as much dignity as I could possibly muster. But everything I tried to do wasn’t enough. No one would be satisfied with my progress unless I switched back into the old Peter.

My fists balled in my lap.

The silence stretched for miles and Cooper eventually turned on the radio. For the hundredth time, I checked my phone for another list notification. When I found nothing, I put in my airpods and drifted off to sleep.

“Rise and shine, sugar plum.”

My head jerked upward as a muscle in my neck tangled. Wincing, I rubbed it, bracing myself against the truck’s bumpy lefthand turn.

“Did you get your beauty sleep?” I turned toward Cooper, trying to blink the sting from my eyes. He chuckled, “Yikes. I guess not.” The truck’s blinker flipped off as he continued, “So, here’s how it all works. I’m taking the sheep up to the stables. I’ve got to unload them and get all our gear set up. While I’m doing that, you’re gonna set up camp. The rodeo starts at six o’clock and I’ll be down there until after the mutton busting which should end around eight-thirty or so.”

It was about three o’clock now. “What should I do during the rodeo?”

“Sit there and look pretty, I guess.” He snapped his fingers. “Or, considering you love being in bed so much, you could warm up my sleeping bag. That’d be nice.”

I sneered at him as he chuckled.

“Do what you want. Grab a bite to eat, go pick up more chicks, or find a spot on the bleachers and watch the show.”

“Watch the show.” I gave a single nod. “Got it.”

Ten minutes later, Cooper ejected me from the vehicle and tossed a few bags at my feet with a too chipper “Have fun, buddy!” then spun gravel as he drove off to the stables. I gave the bags a gentle kick with my tennis shoe, noting the sounds they made.

Clanging—like tent poles. Crinkling—like a plastic trash bag.

Standing in the campground, I listened to my surroundings. Our campsite was smack in the middle of half a dozen others, all of which were inhabited. Soft voices and laughter traveled over the air in six directions and the scent of grilling burgers reached my nose.

My heart pumped with anxiety as I realized I’d be setting up a tent while people looked on.

Using my cane, I moved around our site until I found a picnic table, a gravel drive, and a raised dirt platform to set the tent on. I moved the bag there and unzipped it, a cold sweat breaking over the back of my neck. I had set up a tent a hundred times. I could do it again. But holding on to my confidence in the pitch black was no small feat, and as I expanded the poles and unfolded the canvas, my competency slipped away. My skin grew hot with humiliation and I wanted to hide.

How big was this tent? A four person? Or a six person? It felt huge.

The poles were different lengths and there were multiple entry points with hooks, loops, and sleeves. My palms grew slick as I tried poking the longest pole diagonally through the hooks, and then used the shorter poles to lift the sides, but it wasn’t working right. It was too long or going the wrong direction or something. Thirty minutes stretched into an hour and I still hadn’t figured it out.

A few people from neighboring sites offered to help, but I turned them down, which made my cheeks burn all the hotter as time kept ticking by. Cooper thought I could do this, and my masculine pride wanted to prove that I could. All by myself. Without a random stranger coming to hold my hand. But, no sooner had my stubborn pride reared its head, than reality settled deep into my core.

I couldn’t set up a tent.