Текст книги "Near and Far"

Автор книги: Nicole Williams

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

ANOTHER WEEK DOWN. One more to go before Rowen would be there. Three weeks was a long time to go without seeing each other. We’d gone longer, but no stretch had ever felt so long. I knew that had a lot to do with my state of mind and how “unsettled” seemed to be my new normal.

It didn’t help that Rowen seemed to be slipping through my fingers. She hadn’t said anything outright, but something was off. So I was off, Rowen was off, and we were off. My whole life was off.

If I didn’t get a grip and focus, I was about to fall off of Sunny too.

“Jesus, Walker! Pull your head out because I am not saving your sorry ass if you go and break your other arm!” Garth was about twenty yards ahead of me on Rebel, weaving through the herd.

“Why don’t you mind your business and I’ll mind mine?” I shouted back, reining Sunny in. Garth and I were taking the late afternoon watch, and a couple of the other guys would be relieving us for night watch. Dad had been right about calving season setting in early. Three-quarters of the year’s calves had been born in the past week, and with so many young, awkward animals grazing in the wide open, there was an increased risk of predators taking out a few. There were plenty of coyotes around, but to my knowledge, none had ever taken down one of our calves. The rest of the herd would have crushed the hell out of a coyote if it had tried. I’d never seen a mountain lion take down one of ours—they were sneaky creatures that stayed far away from people—but we’d lost at least two of our calves to mountain lions. What posed the most risk were the wolf packs. They’d taken close to a dozen of our herd—adult and calf—and I’d seen them do it once before, too.

Garth had been with me. We were thirteen, had the afternoon off, and were doing our usual trying-to-one-up-the-other routine when we heard the spine-chilling sound. By the time we’d raced Sunny and Rebel there, the pack was already ripping apart what was left of a calf and carrying it away. The wolves had shown no real fear of us, and that was the most frightening part of the whole ordeal. I’d realized that I wasn’t the top of the food chain out there like I’d assumed.

I hadn’t seen a wolf pack since, but I’d heard them plenty of times, and I’d had to account for a handful of the herd they’d taken out too. To Dad, it was just a part of the business. We’d lose some to natural causes, sickness, and predators; that was the price of being in the cattle business. But to me, it somehow seemed more personal. A formidable, strong predator going after an innocent calf. I’d been ranching a long time, and I knew it was part of the great circle, but my heart didn’t quite accept it. See? Damn hippy heart . . .

“You know, I’d love to mind my own business. That’s what I normally do because that’s what I’m good at.” Garth and Rebel bumped up beside Sunny and me as we finished checking the herd. “But you know what happened when I was minding my own business last summer? I got a call to come help find poor little Jesse Walker who might have gone over Suicide Ridge.”

“No one twisted your arm.”

“No, no one did. But who else was going to save you if it wasn’t me? Because, let’s face it, I’m the biggest, baddest badass out there, Walker. You want me on your side when you tumble over Suicide Ridge.”

Surprisingly, doing watches with Garth the past month had been nice. The one up side to him running his mouth all the time was that it kept my mind off of other things.

“I don’t know, Black. I seem to remember a girl beating you to the saving-me punch.”

“Yeah, a girl who didn’t have a rope or any other way to actually get you or her out of that ravine.”

I shoved him hard enough he slid in his saddle but not so hard he fell right off of it. “Fine. I’ll admit it. I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“Speaking of on your side . . .” Garth lifted his chin, looking over my shoulder.

Glancing over, I saw Old Bessie bouncing through the field, heading our way. I sighed. I really didn’t like it when Jolene drove Old Bessie. Not because I was chauvinistic and didn’t want a woman driving my truck, but because it smelt like her for a solid week afterward. That fruity perfume she liked always overpowered Rowen’s softer, earthier scent, and I didn’t like that. I might be pathetic, but I’d take Rowen however I could get her, even if that was just from her scent permeating my truck.

But now it would smell like Jolene. Fruity. Overpowering. Solid week. Plus, I still hadn’t quite gotten over her top-snatching stunt at the swimming hole.

I sighed. “Why does she always have to drive my truck?”

“Because at least she gets to go for a ride in or on something of yours,” Garth replied instantly, right before shoving me. A much harder shove than I’d just given him.

Before I knew it, I was crashing into the dirt. Thankfully, I’d fallen on my good arm. “Shit, Garth”—I sat up and dusted myself off—“I take back that whole ‘I want you on my side’ thing.” Sunny had spooked a bit when I’d flown off but hadn’t gone far.

“Oh, my goodness! Jesse, are you okay?” Jolene flew out of Old Bessie, sprinting my way like I’d just lost a limb.

“Oh, no, Jesse. Are you okay?” Garth matched Jolene’s voice . . . or at least tried to. “What can I do to help you? Massage your sore, bruised muscles? Ride your stallion stick until you’re red in the face? Motorboat my huge titties in your face until your pain goes away? What can I do to be of service?”

“Do me a favor and shut the hell up, Black?” I said, standing.

“Shutting up? Not my strong suit.”

“Ha. Name one strong suit you have other than cussing, drinking, and getting women into your bed.”

Garth’s smile stretched wide. “Shoving your ass off your horse.”

I moved lightning fast, but Garth had been expecting it and reined Rebel to the side. He wasn’t fast enough. I caught his leg, gave it a hard tug, and Garth Black was eating some dirt for dinner, too.

“I hate you, Walker.” Garth spit dirt from his mouth, rolling onto his back.

“I love you too, buddy.”

“Scratch that. I fucking hate you.”

“Aww, sweetie. You’re so thoughtful.” Patting his cheek, I jumped out of the way as his leg swung at me. “Be a good boy and stay put while I go get dinner.”

“And you be a bad boy and get an extra blow for me from Miss Hooter-ific bouncing your way. Damn, I love a girl who believes the less support when it comes to her bra, the better.”

I went to intercept Jolene since she must have been bringing dinner, although she was still jogging my way with a worried look. I didn’t feel like dealing with her never-ending conversations, her urge to touch me at any and every whim, or her asking me every five seconds about how Rowen and I were doing. Jolene was a nice girl and all, but she didn’t exactly get the concept of personal space, physically or emotionally. I didn’t want to talk about my girlfriend with some acquaintance, and I didn’t want to be hugged every time I said something funny. Not to mention, Jolene had walked in on me changing so many times, I was pretty sure she knew what my butt looked like better than I did.

Jolene stopped jogging when she was a few yards in front of me. “Are you okay? That was a nasty spill!”

“Yeah, I’m fine. That was nothing.” I’d fallen off a horse as many times as I’d mowed the lawn. It came with the territory.

“Is there anything I can do? I’ve got a first aid kit with me . . . and I’ve been told I can work some serious magic with these fingers.” Jolene stepped behind me, dropped her hands on my shoulders, and rolled my muscles between her fingers. Not only was it a strange thing to suggest after someone had just fallen off a horse—a massage, really?—but it made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to another woman’s touch, and having her hands on me felt strange.

“I’ll go grab dinner.” I stepped away from Jolene’s hands and headed for Old Bessie.

“I’ll help.” Jolene jogged beside me. “How’s Rowen doing? I haven’t seen her in a while. You two okay?”

I worked my tongue into my cheek so I wouldn’t reply immediately. I tried to speak respectfully to everyone, with maybe Garth as the exception. That was just the way I’d been brought up, but Jolene was making it very hard. She’d asked me not even two days ago how Rowen and I were doing. My answer was the same. “She’s doing great. We’re doing great. Thanks for asking.”

“Oh. Well that’s good.” Her voice had lost all of its bubbliness. “Are you going to marry her?”

“Jolene,” I warned, stopping in place. I didn’t want to have that conversation with her or anyone.

“Well? Are you?” She was dead serious.

“Why do you want to know? What difference does it make to you?”

“Because I want to know,” she said with a shrug. “And yes, it does make a difference.”

I generally found myself confused somewhere along the way when I talked with Jolene, but it had barely taken thirty seconds to get me stumped during that conversation. “Why? What possible difference could it make to you if I do or do not want to marry Rowen?”

Jolene’s face fell. “Are you serious? You really don’t know?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “No, I really don’t know. Why in the world would I?” Women are a complicated species. Dad had drilled that into me—and then I’d learned it on my own—but damn if that woman and that conversation didn’t bring that complicated attribute to new levels.

Jolene studied me for a few more seconds, searching me for something. Finally, she dropped her gaze, crossed her arms, and marched over to the driver’s side door. “Your dinner’s in the bed. You can get it yourself.”

And I’d pissed her off. I was really winning at life these days.

Only because it was my truck did I kick the tire when I came around the bed. I grabbed the couple of paper bags of food but would have to come back from the cooler since it didn’t look like Jolene was planning on leaving the cab. I’d definitely pissed her off . . . although I didn’t know what I’d said or done exactly to do so.

When I made it to the tree where Garth was camped out enjoying some shade, I dropped the bags on his lap. “Thanks for the help.”

Garth shoved the bags aside and waved his finger at me. “You’ve got all the help any man could possibly need stewing over there in your truck.”

I double checked to make sure Garth and I were seeing the same thing. Yep, Jolene was still pissed. “In case you’re losing your vision, that’s not a look of helpfulness on Jolene’s face. She is most definitely not in a helping mood right now.” I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering if I should go apologize. “I said something to upset her . . . but I don’t know what.”

“Shit, Jess. You weren’t over there for longer than two minutes. What were you chatting about that could have hurt poor Jolene’s feeling so?” Garth kicked out his legs, crossed his ankles, and laid down like he was ready for a nap.

“I don’t know. All we did was talk about dinner, Rowen, and if I wanted to marry her one day.”

“Marry who?”

I gave him a look. He knew who I was talking about and was just messing with me.

“Marry. Who?” Garth repeated.

“Marry you, shithead,” I said, kicking the heel of his boot. “Rowen. Marry Rowen.” I couldn’t believe I had to clarify that.

“Oh, well that’s why.”

“That’s why what?”

Garth rolled his eyes before closing them. “That’s why Miss Peace Corps Montana is pissed. You mentioned marriage and Rowen in the same sentence, and I’m guessing there was no addition of polygamy and Jolene.”

“No. No mention of Jolene or polygamy.”

“Hmm, you know, it’s too bad it’s not legal in this state because I might actually turn into the marrying type if I could have a dozen wives.”

“You can’t even take care of yourself. How do you think you’d be able to take care of twelve wives?”

Garth shrugged. “I don’t know. But I sure wouldn’t mind trying.”

“Nice digression, there, but could we get back on point, please? What would make Jolene so upset about me mentioning I want to marry Rowen one day?” I knew she wasn’t the biggest fan of Rowen, and Rowen of her. Some personalities just didn’t click. Rowen’s and Jolene’s definitely didn’t click.

“Questions like that one really make me question your intelligence, Walker.” Garth’s eyes opened just long enough to say the next part. “Jolene likes you. That’s why she’s got her panties in a bunch because you mentioned Rowen and the M word.”

“I know she likes me. I’m a likable guy.”

“Oh my god, shit-for-brains. Jolene doesn’t just like you because you’re a ‘likable guy’”—seeing Garth make air quotes almost made me laugh—“she likes you because she wants you to hump her this way, that way, and another way you didn’t even dream was possible. Oh, and after that, she wants you to put a ring on her finger and let her play house.”

I shook my head. How else could a person respond to that? “Jolene doesn’t like me like that.”

“Uh . . . yes, she does.”

I crossed my arms. “No, she doesn’t.”

Garth studied me for a few seconds, then sat up. “You really are clueless when it comes to the female species, Jess. You know that?”

“I suppose entrusting my girlfriend to my best friend a couple of years ago should have clued me into that.” I gave him an accusatory look.

Garth raised his middle finger at me. “That should have been a big clue, and you not picking up on Jolene’s borderline Fatal Attraction toward you is another.”

I settled my hands on my hips and exhaled. “You really think Jolene likes me . . . in that way.” I didn’t want to bring up the hump, hump, dream hump, ring analogy again.

“Jess, I’m ninety-nine percent she already has your wedding date set and your kids’ names picked out.”

As much as I wanted to believe Garth was wrong, he usually wasn’t about that type of things. Plus, even though she hadn’t outright said it, Rowen didn’t like Jolene and obviously had something against her. Could her knowing Jolene had a thing for me be the reason why? The longer I thought about it, the more it made sense. The longer I thought about it, the more I wondered how I’d been so oblivious. I’d been preoccupied lately, but really, I probably hadn’t noticed because I wasn’t concerned about what Jolene said or did. I didn’t notice because I wasn’t in a noticing frame of mind with her. I noticed Rowen, every single thing she did, and every undertone and hidden meaning in what she said. My mind was trained to notice her, not Jolene, and perhaps that was why I’d missed it.

“You’re positive?”

Garth chuckled darkly. “The only thing I’ve been more positive about is that I’m better looking than you.”

“Says no female in existence.” Narrowly missing his kick, I headed back toward Old Bessie and an even more complicated situation.

“Where you going, ugly?”

“Clearing something up.”

“When you’re done with that, let her know I’m available if she wants to work out any angst or frustration,” Garth said.

Jolene was still gripping the steering wheel and glaring out the windshield when I approached. It didn’t look like she was going to acknowledge me, and that was okay. She didn’t need to; she just needed to hear me.

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Jolene. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings too, if I did that.”

“You did,” she replied slowly.

“I’m sorry for that. But I thought you knew. I thought it was obvious.” I leaned inside the passenger window. My truck was, as I guessed, overpowered by that fruity, sweet perfume.

“What did you think was obvious?” She still wouldn’t look at me.

“That I want to spend the rest of my life with Rowen.” It was sure obvious to everyone else. I don’t know why it hadn’t been to Jolene.

“You’ve made that pretty damn obvious,” Jolene huffed, giving me a sideways glare. “But you know, what if Rowen doesn’t feel the same way? What if one day she wakes up and decides she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her life with you?”

I didn’t want to think about that at all, but I had the answer. “Then I’ll die a single man.”

Jolene laughed a few strained notes.

“It’s her or no one for me, Jolene. I’ve known that for a while now. I can’t control Rowen’s future, but I can control mine. If she decides she doesn’t want me to be a part of hers one day, I’m going to wind up a lonely man.” I sighed, wishing the pain in my chest would go away. “It’s a better option than pretending with someone else.”

Jolene shook her head. “You’d really rather be alone than pretend with someone else?”

“Yes.” It was the obvious choice for me.

She turned the ignition and Old Bessie fired to life. I snagged the cooler out of the bed before she tore off. “You and I really are two totally different people, Jesse. Enjoy your life.” She finally looked over at me. Her eyes were shiny, which made me feel even worse than I already did. “I don’t want you to live alone, but something tells me you’re going to with the woman you’ve picked. A girl like that doesn’t want to be tied down to anything or anyone. A girl like that doesn’t know how to give real love because she’s never been able to accept it.”

My body went rigid. “A girl like Rowen knows something about real love that a girl like you could never understand, Jolene. And that’s all I’m going to mention about Rowen around you again. I think it’s best you leave now. We’ve both said more than enough, I think.”

My words hadn’t been kind ones, I knew that, but neither had hers. I normally didn’t adhere to the repay fire with fire motto, but Jolene saying that Rowen didn’t know how to give or receive real love had angered me in a way that felt unbridled. Even though Rowen was hundreds of miles away and Jolene’s words would never make their way back to her, I still felt an overwhelming need to protect her.

“It looks like you and I finally agree on something, Jesse,” Jolene replied, before punching the gas. Old Bessie bounced through the field so furiously, I was certain the fender was going to pop off again, but it never did. Or at least not that I saw.

When I made my way back to Garth, he’d already dove into dinner. “So? How did it go?” He wasn’t even trying to keep his smile contained.

I dropped down beside him. “Shut up.”

BY THE TIME Garth and I’d been relieved and we’d made it back to Willow Springs, it was past ten. Rowen and I usually talked around nine her time since that was her break time if she was working and it was a little before I went to bed. Hey, don’t judge; when a person gets up at four in the morning, they can’t stay up until two . . . at least not every night.

I couldn’t remember if Rowen was working that night, though. That worried me. I always remembered what shifts she worked. Not because I needed to know where she was every minute of every day, but because I liked to know what she was doing hundreds of miles away. When I was out checking the fence, or hauling feed, or lately, up to my elbows in cow placenta, I liked to imagine for a few minutes what she was doing. Was she in class? Painting a picture, half of her face scrunched up as she decided what it was missing? Out with her friends, taking advantage of all Seattle had to offer? Or was she selling crazy doughnuts, turning down the music every time she passed the stereo system?

Usually I had to guess what she might be up to, and that was all part of the fun, but on the nights she was working, I could almost imagine exactly what she was doing. I’d watched her from the back table for so many hours, I think I knew her job almost as well as she did. But I didn’t know if she was working. I couldn’t remember, and that upset me more than it should have. I knew it had a lot to do with everything that had been going on in my head lately; my mind had felt like a never-ending maze of dominos tumbling over for the past month.

After getting Sunny taken care of for the night, I grabbed my phone from the small barn office and checked for missed calls. Sure enough, I had one and a voice mail.

“Have a nice night of phone sex.” Garth smacked my arm as he passed by. “Say hi to Rowen for me.”

I had the phone to my ear, waiting for the voice mail to start, so I gave Garth a reply in sign language.

“Sorry. I meant, moan hi to Rowen for me.” Garth gave me a thumbs-up as he left the barn.

I’d had my fill of Garth Black for one day three hours ago. Finally, I was getting a reprieve.

“Hey, Jesse, it’s me.” Rowen’s voice put an instant smile on my face. “So it looks like I missed you. Again. I know you’ve been really busy.” There was a long pause, long enough it made me freeze. “So, I really didn’t want to tell you this on a voice mail, but since I missed you last night and you missed me tonight, I have to tell you some way . . . I won’t be able to come out next weekend.” My smile was gone. So far gone. “I didn’t realize it when we made plans for me to come visit, but that’s the same weekend as the Spring Art Show. Since I guess I’m on the committee, I can’t really miss it.” Rowen sighed, sounding as bad as I felt. “And even though I know you can’t come see me with everything you’ve got going on, I’m still going to be selfish and ask if you can. Because I want to see you, Jesse. I want to see you so bad I’m half tempted to just drop out of school so I don’t have to be at this Spring Art Show thingie. Okay, so I’m exaggerating. A little.” Another long sigh. “I’m sorry. I suck as a girlfriend and, apparently, I suck at keeping a calendar. All right, I’ll stop taking up your time with my ramblings and let you get to bed. I know you’ve got to be exhausted. I’ll try calling about the same time tomorrow night. Okay?”

I was already trying to remember which button I needed to punch to replay the message because, even though it was just a voice mail, it was Rowen. It was a piece of her I could have and hold on to.

“I’m just getting ready to head out with Jax and the other person on the committee so we can get this sucker planned, but I couldn’t go a night without talking to you. Or at least, talking to your recording.” That time, I sighed with her. “I miss you, Jesse. Right now, it almost feels like I miss you as much as I love you . . . and you know how much that is. Sleep tight and sweet dreams. Sweet dreams of me, okay?” She ended her call with an air kiss, and I hit the replay button immediately.

So many things unsettled me about that message. I also knew there were just as many things that should have reassured me, and the old me would have focused on the good and barely noticed the bad. But the other person, the Jesse that was caught in a tug-of-war between the old and new, was only concerned with the unsettling parts. That, of course, unsettled me even more.

I left the barn listening to Rowen’s message again and wishing I could will her there. For one minute even. Just so I could hold her and she could hold me and I would know everything would be all right. I’d remind myself of the man she saw when she looked at me and remember why it was so important that I overcome my internal battle. I couldn’t seem to win the war for myself, but I believed I could for her. I’d do anything for Rowen, including caging demons I’d unknowingly set free. I just needed to see her. To feel her close. I needed more than a message left on my phone. I wished I didn’t, I wished a few voice mails and a couple of phone calls could be enough, but I knew it wasn’t. I wasn’t as strong as I thought, and realizing that was terrifying.

Heading up the porch steps, I was about to hit replay for the third time when I noticed something moving from the corner of my eye. Mom was on one of the swings, a plastic bin in her lap, smiling gently at me.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing?” Mom’s voice always had an undercurrent of concern—that’s part of what made her such an incredible mother and person—but her greeting held more concern than normal. She knew something was up with me, but she’d given me my space. She’d always known what I needed, even during those first few years.

“Hey, Mom . . . um . . . I’m . . . I’m doing . . .” I’d been putting up a good front, but I guess my I’m fine facade was taking a temporary break.

“Yeah, Jess. I know.” Moving a couple of the bins from beside her, she patted the freed space. “Come keep me company. The girls get enough of me during the day, and your dad has been snoring for two hours now.”

I wanted to sit and talk with Mom . . . and I didn’t want to sit and talk with Mom. Experience had proven she could get to the bottom of what was troubling me in a short, innocent-seeming conversation. I wasn’t ready for her to work her magic yet. I wasn’t ready to speak openly about it; I still hadn’t let go of the hope that it would go away on its own.

However, at the end of the day, I could say no to my mom about as often as I could to Rowen. “What are you doing out here?” I asked, approaching the swing.

“Sorting through old pictures. I’ve gotten way behind on getting things labeled and into albums. Obviously,” she said, motioning at the bins filled to capacity with photos.

“Yeah, but why are you doing it out here? Inside’s a little warmer.” I was just unzipping my heavy Carhartt jacket when she shook her head.

“You keep that on, sweetie. Thank you, though. Besides, it’s nice being outside in the cool every now and then when you spend your days in a hot kitchen.” I settled into the swing beside her and lifted my brows. “Okay. I might be out here because I was waiting for you.”

“You almost had me convinced with the photo bins, Mom. Really.”

“Not quite, though?”

“Given none of them were open, that kind of gave you away.” I couldn’t tell how many deep conversations Mom and I’d gotten into when I thought she needed nothing more than help drying the dishes, or plucking green beans, or any one of the other everyday tasks she liked to use as a gateway to something big.

“I think I’m losing my touch.” She shook her head.

“So why were you waiting up for me?” I said, not wasting any time.

Mom reached back and grabbed something off of the table beside her. “I made your favorite dessert.” She held out the steaming piece of apple pie, and waited.

“Thanks, Mom.” I took the pie and rested the plate on my lap. On any other day, I would have been inhaling it and going in search of another piece in thirty seconds, but eating was the furthest thing from my mind. “Pie? This was the reason you were camped out on the porch waiting for me?”

She folded her hands in her lap and cleared her throat. “Well, there may have been one other reason I was waiting for you.”

“Go ahead, Mom. I promise I won’t go run off and hide out in my tree house like I did after you explained, in detail, the male and female reproductive organs.” I gave her a wry smile.

“You totally over-reacted.”

“Mom, you used a banana, a couple of limes, and a pomegranate.” Every teenage boy’s worst nightmare? Having his mom teach him the ins and outs of sex education.

“That was what the online home-schooling lesson plan suggested.”

“I was twelve.”

Mom lifted an eyebrow at me. “Are you trying to tell me twelve-year-old boys are impervious to sexual urges?”

I shifted on the swing. Eight years later and I was almost as uncomfortable as I’d first been when the words “penis” and “vagina” came out of my mom’s mouth. “You probably could have waited a few more years for the whole condom-over-the-banana demonstration. You know, just in case you and Dad are planning on raising any more sons.”

Mom scoffed at me. “I may wash dishes by hand and make my own piecrusts, but I’m not fool enough to be old-fashioned about some things. I’ve tried to be . . . practical . . . with raising all of my children, and I wasn’t eager to think of my baby raising one. Thus the banana and condom demonstration.”

I smiled into my lap. How many twenty-year-old guys had conversations like that with their mothers? Yeah, probably none but me. “Is that what you’re waiting to talk with me about? Fruit and prophylactics? Because I think I’ve got both areas covered now . . .”

Mom reached for her tea cup and saucer and took a couple of sips. “I couldn’t help hearing your phone call with Rowen a few nights ago.”

That’s where I figured the conversation would be heading. “Yeah?”

“Things sounds a little . . . strained, maybe?”

I set the pie down on the table beside me. With what we were talking about, I wouldn’t be up for eating anytime soon. “Yeah.”

“What’s going on?”

So damn much. “Just lots of things,” I answered with a shrug.

“The distance? Is being apart so much taking a toll?”

“That’s part of it. It’s not the main issue, though.” I clenched my phone. I’d held it twice as much as I’d held Rowen’s hand that year. “But being apart definitely makes it that much harder to work out the other things.”

“What other things?”

Part of what I loved about my mom was her ability to deliver a question so succinctly. She didn’t soften it or wrap it up in a bunch of fluff. Right then, though, I wouldn’t have minded her questions not being so direct.

“Things I’m not ready to talk about yet, Mom,” I admitted, dropping my gaze.

There was a good minute of silence before Mom draped her arm over my shoulders. “You love Rowen, and she loves you. Hold on to that, and work out the rest. Just don’t assume that these issues, whatever they are, will fix themselves or disappear on their own. Work them out. Don’t let them create a wedge between you two.”

“And what if you have no idea how to go about working them out?”

“Then get an idea. The answers don’t come easy, Jesse. God knows the questions sure do, but the answers never come easy. You have to work for them, and in my experience, you have to work hard for them.”

Having my mom’s arm around me still managed to soothe me, almost to the point of wanting to admit everything that had been bothering me. “I guess I should have known better than to assume that once I’d found the woman I wanted to spend my life with, everything else would just fall into place.”

Mom laughed softly, patting my shoulder. “Honey, if it was easy, they wouldn’t call it love.”

“Yeah. I’m figuring that out.”

Setting down her tea, she twisted toward me. “What about you, Jess? How have you been?”

I swallowed. That topic was even more touchy than the last one. That topic was one that scared the shit out of me. I kept my eyes forward when I answered. “Okay. Why?”