Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Hey, this might be of interest to you,” I said, indicating where part of the boulder protruded up about mid-thigh. It was where we’d usually sit and chat, safely out of view from anyone who might have come out looking for us.
Cohen eyed the spot on the rock, where HM & PW was carved in the middle of a heart.
Considering how much fun we’d been having, even while griping through the climb up the boulder, it was unsettling to see how quickly his expression turned serious.
“I knew that was your dad’s, but—”
“My mom too. Pam White.”
“Yeah, I kinda wondered if it might be.”
He stared at it long enough to assure me there was a lot going on in that pretty head of his.
“What are you thinking?”
“What do you imagine I’m thinking?”
“God, I don’t even know where to begin,” I admitted. “That it’s nice seeing something that reminds you of your parents, but then between the way your mom died and how you never knew who your dad was… Gotta be a lot of wondering around all that. And then being adopted and all’s gotta throw a whole other element into it.”
His eyes watered as he turned to face me. “See, you knew what I was thinking after all.” He smiled, clearly fighting back an emotional moment.
He took a seat beside the carving, and I sat on the other side of it, giving him a chance to collect his thoughts.
He swallowed, then said, “It’s hard to wrap my brain around it all sometimes. I spent five years with a mom I loved more than anything, who told me my dad loved me while I kept wondering why he wasn’t around if he did. Logically, I get it. I was too young to understand, but after she passed, I was even more angry with him for not being there. Then I was adopted, and that came with its own set of conflicting emotions—gratitude, love, but never feeling quite like I fit in. Then guilt for feeling that way when there was nothing they didn’t give me. Now I’m here, and still feeling guilty about that, while learning things I like and dislike about my dad and family. It’s all twisted up, is all.”
I couldn’t help myself—I reached for him, put my hand on his, rubbed my thumb over his flesh. “Feel like this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you all the reasons why you shouldn’t feel that way, but if I had all that shit going on, I would feel the same. I feel like because of how things are depicted on TV shows and in movies—or maybe because of the way we talk about things like family—we got all these ideas about how life’s supposed to play out. But how many of us have simple, easy lives without curveballs that come and fuck it all up?”
“Right?” he said with a bittersweet snicker.
“But as far as your adoptive parents go…if I think about my siblings, Big Daddy and Momma always loved each of the five of us in his own way. Never the same, but I’ve never doubted their love, even throughout the tough times and all the bullshit life has thrown at us. And I know this might not help and it’s just the words of some country bumpkin, but I can’t imagine there isn’t room enough in your heart to love all that your adoptive parents did and love the memory of your mom and dad all the same.”
I knew it wouldn’t magically make him feel better. Fuck, how could he with all that going on in his head? But I hoped that maybe just knowing I was doing my best to be there for him might cheer him up a bit.
The warm smile that spread across his face made me feel like I’d done that much, at least.
“Pretty smart for a country bumpkin,” he remarked.
“And don’t forget sexy. Real sexy country bumpkin.”
I finally managed to get the chuckle I felt I deserved for my efforts, and it made me smile too, knowing I was able to cheer him up.
“It’s a shame,” I said, “’cause if it weren’t for this stupid feud, I think Big Daddy would really like you if he got to know you.”
It seemed like such a random-ass thought, but it was true.
Sitting on that rock beside Cohen, this great guy who had such a big fucking heart and who was so loyal to those who’d been good to him in his life, it was hard to imagine that Big Daddy, in his right mind, could see him as anything other than who he was.
Cohen avoided my gaze. “Seems like a safe thing to say in the middle of Mitchell country, where there’s no way Big Daddy can catch the naughty things I’m doing to you.”