by Toler, B N
“Don’t worry about it. We—” A doorbell chimed in the distance, interrupting him.
“Mom,” Bailor said simply as he shot a glance to Cole. “Where the hell is Joe?”
Cole shook his head and mumbled something I couldn’t understand.
“I’ll take care of it. You wanna get Emalee some bandages?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
The doorbell rang again, and Bailor grumbled, the gravel crunching under his feet as he marched toward the house.
Cole was still for a moment as he cast an assessing gaze over me. Shaking his head, he chuckled. “Well, hot mess, we better get you cleaned up.”
Considering I’d just had a ridiculous bicycle accident on the side of a Kansas road in the middle of nowhere and bled all over his truck, I couldn’t find the gumption to be offended he’d called me hot mess. I followed behind Cole as he walked toward the barn, wondering why he was bringing me to a barn to clean my wound instead of the house, but I didn’t question him about it, figuring they were just private people. The large barn doors were open, and when we stepped inside a musty scent of wood and earth hit me, making me sneeze.
“Bless you,” he said.
“Thanks,” I wheezed, cringing internally as my eyes watered.
He led me to a large metal sink in the back and turned the water on. “Think you can lift your leg and let the water run over it?”
The lip of the sink met the top of my ribcage. I shot him a look that said are you serious?
He laughed, his mouth curving up on one side, reminding me of Elvis Presley. Were guys supposed to have lips that looked like that? I’d never in my life noticed a man’s lips before, but it took everything I had to look away from his.
Pulling a chair over, he butted it up against the sink and held out a hand. “Stand on this and I’ll keep you balanced.” Slipping off my sandal, I stepped up and, once I was balanced, stuck my leg in. Cole held my hand, letting me lean my weight on him a little. When my leg was clean, he helped me down.
“Damn, it’s still bleeding,” Cole said baffled. He shuffled around, looking for something before tugging off his shirt and knelt, tying it around my leg. I stifled a sigh as I took in his bare chest and shoulders. Cole’s jeans fit just right, hanging off his hips ever so slightly, held in place by a frayed leather belt. Beyond the amazing body and the attire that accentuated said amazing body, what really had my attention was in his gaze. There was a fierceness blended into those perfect green eyes—something raw that said he’d grown up faster than most his age.
He studied me as he stood, his eyes dancing over my expression, and I did my best not to look away. I was fierce, too. At least, I wanted him to believe I was, but when he gently brushed the hair from my face, it felt as if he’d traced a flame across my skin, setting every nerve in my body alight.
I inhaled sharply.
“Uh… sorry.” He shook his head, blinking rapidly.
“That’s okay.” Our gazes locked for another moment before we both looked away, falling into an awkward silence.
Shouldn’t one of us say something? Me? Should I? No, definitely not. I pressed my lips together, rallying my will not to break, but it was futile. I had to fill the silence. I had to. “This is your shirt,” I stated the obvious as I motioned down at my leg.
“Yeah… sorry. It’s the cleanest thing I had at the moment,” he said as he looked around the barn. “You should probably wash your hands.”
Flipping the faucet on, I washed my hands before cupping some water in my palm and rinsing my face. I moaned as the cool water splashed against my heated skin. “You must think I’m ridiculous,” I groaned.
He chuckled. “Not at all. I have a first aid kit in the truck. We can get you bandaged up out there.” His laugh ebbed into a smile and my heart stopped for a moment. “I should go get another shirt. There’s a bathroom right here where you can clean up while I run inside.”
“Thank you!” I called as he hurried off. I locked myself inside the bathroom, seeing the first glimpse of myself in the antiqued mirror. Other than the mascara and eyeliner smeared around my eyes, my crimson cheeks, and the sweaty hair matted to my forehead and neck, I almost resembled something close to a human.
I swiped at my face attempting to do damage control, before scrunching my nose. There was one, and only one person responsible for this humiliation.
This was definitely all my mother’s fault.
I stepped outside the barn and stopped, taking in a deep breath as I worked to absorb all of the madness that just occurred.
Emalee was definitely a hot mess.
On the side of the road, she’d looked like she’d been picked up by a tornado in some city and dropped a disheveled heap near our farm. She was a whirlwind and she sucked the air right out of me. Caught somewhere between wanting to laugh at her and wanting to protect her, mostly from herself, I was practically bouncing on my feet.
Rushing inside the house, I stopped in front of the den where Bailor was helping prop our mother up with pillows. When he caught sight of me, his mouth quirked up on one side.
“Would you look at this, Ma? He’s only been around the girl for five minutes and he’s already taking his shirt off.”
Glancing down, I remembered that’s what I came in for. “Her leg wouldn’t stop bleeding,” I explained.
Mom raised her frail arm and used her knuckle to jab at her communication device before a robotic female voice filled the room.
Is. That. Right.
Two years ago, my mother was diagnosed with ALS, a merciless disease that progressively stole her ability to move and function on her own. When she’d began having trouble speaking, she was given a device to help her communicate. With a lot of effort, she could still squeak out some words, but the device definitely helped.
Bailor placed her oxygen mask over her nose, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I sincerely hope you weren’t trying to impress her with your sorry attempt at washboard abs.” Lifting his shirt, he pointed to his stomach. “These are washboard abs, bro.”
“Are you challenging me in an ab-off?” I asked in mock offense.
“I’d win every time,” he insisted. “Come on, Mom. Who has the best abs?”
Her eyes full of mirth, she let out a screech—the closest she could get to laughing—as she knuckle-tapped at her device.
Ha. Ha. Ha. You. Both. Do.
Bailor lowered his shirt and shook his head. “Mom just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Yeah,” I said dryly. “That’s what it is.”
“She’s a pretty girl, Cole,” he noted.
I cast him a look that said, Don’t. Emalee was a pretty girl, but I didn’t want any kind of relationship. “I need a girlfriend like I need a hole in the head right now,” I tried to gracefully close the topic.
Unfortunately, Bailor wouldn’t be deterred. “You should ask her out before she comes to her senses and realizes what a dumbass you are.” I rolled my eyes. Brothers could be dicks sometimes, and it seriously rankled that he was goading me in front of Mom. He was constantly telling me my view on life was skewed, and that just because we had a lot of bad stuff on our plates didn’t mean we couldn’t have good too.
I glanced at my mother who was watching me. I couldn’t stop what was happening to her, but I could make her laugh. I started doing a belly roll, showcasing my abs while I beatboxed. “What woman could resist this?” I feigned a super ego. “Or whadda ya think, Ma?” I asked her as I poked my stomach out making my belly round. “I hear the ladies these days dig dad bods. Which should I go with?”
She raised her hand indicating for Bailor to lift her mask. Her words were slurred and drawn out, but she managed to say, “You should stop talking to your brother about abs and go back outside with the girl. Dad bod or abs, she’d be lucky to have you.”
“Thank you, Mom,” I said while at the same time I flipped Bailor the bird behind my back and out of her sight.
“Yeah
,” Bailor agreed, his features going soft and mopey. “He’s got a face only a Muddah could love.”
I laughed out loud before coughing out, “Asshole.”
“Language, young lady!” he gasped, taking one last stab at me. Before I could retaliate, he changed the subject. “Here’s the bell, Mom.” He held it up for her to see before setting it near her left arm, the only arm she could still move.
“Where’s Joe?” Bailor inquired.
“I was taking a shower,” Joe snapped as he rolled in the room, maneuvering his wheel chair to face us. “I thought I could get back before she woke up. I was only gone for five minutes.”
“Next time, maybe just let us know before you go.” Bailor’s tone was patient, but the tightness in his face showed his frustration while he busied himself straightening the blanket over Mom.
“I wasn’t aware I needed to ask for permission, Bailor,” Joe retorted.
Bailor inhaled deeply and shook his head as he let out a snicker. “Not what I said, Joe.”
“Something funny?” Joe snapped.
“Boys!” my mother called, the word garbled by the oxygen mask and her struggle to speak coherently. She hated to see any of us fight, especially where she was concerned. They both cut each other a disgruntled glare, wanting to argue further, but acquiescing for her sake.
Shaking my head, exhausted by the usual bickering, I mumbled as I left the room, “I gotta get a shirt and get back outside.” I’d learned long ago making any comment would only agitate the situation more. Joe was in a mood—a giant stick-up-his-ass mood that had lasted about seven years. The last thing my mother needed to see while she lay helpless in her bed was Joe flying off the handle at Bailor for something stupid. Not now. Not when her days were limited. The three of us were pretty bent on life and often took it out on each other, but we were usually able to keep it away from her. Unfortunately, her caretaker’s son had been in a car accident, which left Mom’s daily care up to us until Annie returned. Yanking a shirt from my dresser drawer, I tugged it on and headed back outside.
Cole.
The robotic voice of her device stopped me just outside the room. I poked my head around the door frame to the den and she cut her eyes to me as she tapped the screen to play the words she’d selected.
Take. Her. Drink. Cole.
My chest ached as I walked over to her and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Always the hospitable Mrs. Kepner,” I said near her ear. When I met her gaze again there was a smile in her eyes. I nodded and went to the kitchen. My mother might be paralyzed and trapped in her own body, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from making sure everyone else was taken care of. I couldn’t stand that she was losing her life in such a cruel way. She was a saint and deserved better.
Glass in hand, I was halfway to the barn when Emalee walked out toward the truck with a subtle limp, my white shirt clutched in one hand, Bailor at her side, chatting her up.
“Brought you something to drink,” I said lamely as I held out the glass. She looked a little better; her hair was down now, and she’d picked the wheat and grass bits out of it.
“Thank you,” she gasped, taking it. “My throat is so dry.” She took a few gulps before lowering the glass and sighing, “That’s so good.”
“Sweet tea is my specialty.” Bailor shrugged and I rolled my eyes. It was ridiculous how full of shit he could be. We both knew Joe had made the tea, but I didn’t bother to point that out.
Emalee took another gulp and glanced at Bailor. “Well, it’s definitely great tea.”
The three of us fell into an awkward silence. I hated awkward. I hated small talk. I hated the feeling of needing to fill silence. “Well, Bailor, why don’t you get that first aid kit out of the truck and bandage her leg?”
I was desperate to excuse myself. I was smart enough to know spending too much time around Emalee wasn’t a good idea. Of course, nothing was ever easy when Bailor was around.
Bailor stepped back. “Why don’t you help her out while I take a look at the bike.” He tilted his head and shrugged shooting Emalee a smirk. “I’m the only one with any mechanical abilities around here.”
He couldn’t help himself. It was a non-stop flow of bull shit. He was no more knowledgeable about mechanics than I was, but again, reacting only encouraged him.
I plaster on my best I’m completely annoyed with you, but won’t call you on it in front of strangers grins. “You’re also the best at first aid,” I added, playing along with him.
Emalee shifted her weight slightly and lowered her gaze. “If you guys just give me a Band-Aid, I can make do with that until I get home. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“Don’t be silly,” Bailor assured her before he cut me a quit being an asshole look.
“Let me grab our first aid kit.” Pushing aside my frustration, I hurried around the side of the truck, and dug behind the seat for the kit. I didn’t want to be rude to her, but I really didn’t want to prolong our interaction either. Just get her bandaged up and get her out of here. When I came back, and looked down at her injury, her leg was bleeding again. Damn, this girl was a gusher.
“Let’s get you fixed up. If we don’t stop that bleeding, you might need a transfusion.” She grinned and my ego perked up. I dropped the tailgate and motioned at the bed of the truck, “Welcome to the Kepner Clinic.” Without thinking, I grabbed her by the hips, lifted her up and set her gently on the tailgate. When she met my gaze, she looked as stunned as I felt. What the hell was I thinking?
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I was trying to help or…” I closed my eyes, shaking my head, and waved my hand haphazardly, “something.”
“How old are you?” she inquired, her gaze narrowing on me.
Busying myself digging through the kit, I replied, “Twenty. You?”
“Almost eighteen.”
“Almost?” I questioned with a smirk.
“June.” She shrugged. “You go to college?”
There was no way for her to have known that was a sore subject for me, so I tried not to look annoyed by her question. “Nah, college wasn’t for me. You?”
“Home schooled. Finished a couple of weeks ago. I don’t have any plans to go to college at this time.”
“Nice.” That probably wasn’t a good response, but I didn’t know what else to say.
Leaning back on her hands, she tilted her head. “You’re not a man of many words, are you, Cole Kepner?”
She probably thought I was some country hick with nothing interesting to say, when actually I just didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t personal. When I didn’t respond, she went on.
“It’s okay.” She let her head fall back and closed her eyes against the sun. Her hair slid off her shoulders at the movement, exposing her smooth skin. The first aid kit clunked to the ground after I blindly knocked it over, unable to stop myself from watching her. “Some people just like to keep it simple. I get it.” She went on, oblivious to my clumsiness.
Simple?
I looked around and took inventory of our farm, trying to see it through her eyes. The simple country farmhouse, the wheat fields. The aged barn was about five years away from dilapidated, our house was old, and our truck didn’t fare any better in comparison. On the spectrum of where she was going and where I would stay, we were at polar ends. To a girl like her, I guess I would seem simple.
“Hey.” She nudged my leg with her foot. “You okay?”
My gaze locked with hers for a moment before I dropped mine. I couldn’t look at her anymore, not for any longer than a few seconds or I would just want to look at her more. And the more I looked at Emalee, the harder it would be for me to stop.
“Yeah,” I finally answered shaking my head. “Let me get your tea.” I took my time retrieving the glass from where she’d left it on the hood, using it to get my thoughts back in line. Handing it to her, I said, “You ready for me to put a bandage on that cut?”
“If you don’t mind.” She extended her leg to give
me better access and I busied myself with attending to her wound.
“How do you like it here?” I asked while I worked, hoping to keep her from asking questions I didn’t want to answer.
She grinned before sipping from the glass, seemingly pleased I’d initiated the conversation. “It’s quiet,” she let out restless sigh. “It’s very, very quiet.”
“Is it not quiet where you’re from?” From the looks of her she was all city. Her dark hair was streaked with blonde, and her finger and toe nails were painted with white tips. Where ever she hailed from, I doubted quiet would have been a word used to describe it.
“Texas?” She quirked a contemplative brow. “No. Texas is not quiet, that’s for sure.”
“How long are you here?”
“Until I start my tour at the end of the summer. My mother made us come here. She wants me to have one real childhood summer, even though I’m not even a child anymore.”
I fought a smile. No… she definitely was not a child. “I see.”
“Well the bike needs a new chain,” Bailor announced as he rounded the truck, wiping his hands on an old rag. I stood quickly and grabbed the first aid kit, relieved my brother was back. Now he could take over. I’d done my part in being hospitable.
“I broke Pinky.” Emalee frowned.
Bailor and I cut each other a look. “Pinky?” he clarified.
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “That’s what I named her.”
His mouth quirked in amusement. “Well Pinky can stay here until I can get her fixed up for you; we can bring her back in a day or two.”
“Really? That would be awesome, and I can totally pay you for it.”
“Eh,” Bailor waved his hand dismissing her. “You don’t owe me a thing. Cole here can give you a ride home if you’re ready.”
I cringed internally. I didn’t want to take her home. She seemed like a great girl, but that was the point. I didn’t want to like her. I didn’t want to want her. The only way I’d been able to keep my head straight through these grueling months was to stay away from things that reminded me of what I’d lost or might lose. “Actually, I need to get those hay bales down. Why don’t you give her a lift?”