Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5)

by Freya Barker

  “Good, I knew she would.”

  “Also,” he continues, “there are a few things you need to be prepared for taking care of someone recovering from an injury like Mr. Mason’s. The physical effects are rather obvious, but you’ll also need to consider the emotional impact and even personality changes these patients often go through. May not be easy to deal with someone who might be unpredictable and angry at times. In my experience, the bigger and stronger ones tend to fall hardest. It’s not in their nature to be vulnerable. Keep an eye on him. Depression is not uncommon.”

  His tone is wistful, and the look he gives me is one of sympathy, while at the same time sizing me up. Checking to see if I’ll be up to the task. Damn right I’ll be up for it, if Clint hasn’t already cut me off at the pass. Although I just walked out of his room, ready to throw in the towel; this information changes that attitude right around. Sure, I’ll go to Dylan’s house and pack my things, but I’m going to be right back here after that to bring Clint home. There isn’t a person better equipped to take care of his ornery ass.

  He can just suck it.

  -

  When I pull into the driveway, I’m surprised to find Dylan’s truck parked out front. Strange. It’s the middle of the day. I find him on the phone at the kitchen counter when I walk in. Seeing me he does a double take before turning his back to me.

  “I’m gonna have to call you back—No, I can’t right now—I’ll get back to you.” Snapping his phone shut, he turns to face me. “I thought you’d be at the hospital.”

  “And I thought you’d be at work. Guess we were both wrong. I’m here to grab my things, it looks like I’m heading back home today. Well, at least Cedar Tree. What about you? How come you’re here in the middle of the workday?”

  My question makes him uneasy, that much is clear.

  “Forgot my lunch this morning, just came home to grab a bite,” he says by way of explanation, turning his eyes away from mine. A sure tell sign he’s lying; he never was good at that. Also, I distinctly remember him packing his small cooler with a stack of sandwiches this morning when I was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with Max. Huh. The worry that had been niggling at the back of my mind makes its way to the forefront.

  “Everything all right?” I can’t help but ask.

  “Yeah, just a bit of a hectic day is all.”

  He might’ve well said, ‘back off,’ in so many words; the message was clear. Although not normally my style not to push a little, I let it slide this time with so many other things on my mind. Something I’ll come to regret.

  -

  By the time I get back to the hospital, having left a note for Max and Tammy saying my goodbyes and promising to come for a visit soon, I find Clint sitting, fully dressed in his own clothes, in a wheelchair in his room—waiting.

  “Wow. I guess you’ve been given your official walking papers? Good, let me just get the car; I’ll drive up to the door.”

  A guilty look flicks over his face but before he can open his mouth to respond, a familiar voice sounds behind me.

  “Ready, my friend? The truck is parked out front. Oh, hey, Beth. I must’ve missed you coming in.” I turn to find myself enveloped in Gus’s arms.

  Gus is a good friend and owner of GFI investigations. He came to Cedar Tree a few years ago for a case he was working on and ended up falling in love with my friend Emma and sticking around. He relocated his business from Grand Junction and settled in like he’d always been there. I’m a little surprised to find him here.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Had a meeting in town and decided to pop in. Surprised to find our friend here sitting up and ready to head out, so I offered to take him. He didn’t mention you were coming, though?” Gus throws Clint a sharp look, before smiling back at me. Clint’s gaze is aimed at the floor. Ass.

  “I guess I’m just that forgettable,” I mutter, only half-joking. I’m pissed. Had I returned any later, I’d have found an empty room. “So what’s it gonna be, cowboy? My ratty old Ford or Gus’s shiny big Yukon?” I don’t hesitate putting him on the spot. Seeing him flinch gives me minimal satisfaction, and I decide to shelve the ‘discussion’ I feel bubbling up for a time when I can tear a strip off him in private. “You know what? Why don’t you go with Gus, it’ll be more comfortable for you. I’ll stop for some groceries in Cortez, since the contents of your fridge are probably well past their expiration, and I’ll see you at home.” Without another word I walk right back out of the room, ignoring the pained expression on his face. Fuck you, Clint Mason. Fuck you for making me feel like a fool.

  -

  -

  “Not cool, man. Not cool at all.”

  I fucked up. Shouldn’t be anything new, but I have a feeling I fucked up but good this time.

  After Beth left my room earlier, I was already feeling like shit. I don’t want to hurt that woman. Not for anything. The woman has been an absolute enigma to me. Though I freely admit that most women are mystifying to me, Beth has the unique ability to render me absolutely stupid. Frankly, I don’t know what I want. Well, I do. My attraction to her hasn’t changed. How could it? The woman is stacked just right and with the contrast of that sharp tongue and those deeply sensitive brown eyes, she’s had me by the balls from the get go. Difference is, I’m feeling fucking weak and inadequate right now and don’t want to run the risk of being yanked around by the gonads once again. Been there, done that, and have the bruises to show for it.

  So when Gus walked in shortly after Beth left and offered to give me a ride, I thought...Fuck, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m an ass.

  “I know. I’m an ass,” I say out loud to Gus.

  “You are. We have collectively not been able to pry that woman from your bedside since you got here. Everyone has chipped in to fill in for her absence, and yours, and you wake up with a giant burr up your ass, and treat her like that? She didn’t say it, but I will on her behalf—fuck you, Clint.”

  Fucking hell.

  If I already didn’t feel like absolute crap, this would surely get me there. I look up into Gus’s angry scowl and I ‘suck it up,’ like Beth would say.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right; she doesn’t deserve that. I just don’t...I mean...I’m struggling. She’s my Achilles’ heel, my soft spot, and I’m already about as weak as a goddamn newborn. I’m out of sorts,” I finish weakly, although I never lower my eyes. At least that’s something.

  “I realize this can’t be easy, but you can’t go alienating the crap out of your friends. You already won’t talk to your brother, from all accounts, even though he’s busted his ass making sure all your projects are taken care off—we’re the only family you have left, buddy.”

  Harsh, but very true. I reach out my hand as...well hell, as a peace-offering I guess. After a second, Gus grabs it firmly.

  “You’re gonna make it right with her.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

  “Gonna try.” Is all I can give him.

  -

  The drive to Cedar Tree from Durango feels much longer than I remember. I’m surprised at the obvious change in seasons already. Guess I missed most of the transition of fall. The big Yukon is comfortable enough, but who’d have thought that sitting up for an extended period of time could be so exhausting?

  I’m relieved when we pull off the main road onto my drive, which goes back a ways to where my house sits. I haven’t been here in over a month, and the place doesn’t even look the same. What the fuck? When I look closer, I notice a few things that I sure as hell don’t remember. For one thing, the old door on the double car garage had been hanging lopsided in its track since I’d bought the place, never having had a chance to replace it yet. But now, what looks to be a new graphite grey garage door is hanging in its place. Quite straight, I might add. The color matches the new damn front door, replacing the old dented one that had also been on my ‘to do’ list.

  “What’s going on?” I turn to Gus, whose earlier grim
face now sports a smirk.

  “Guess someone found your to-do list. You know how it goes.”

  He doesn’t elaborate and frankly, I’m too tired and stunned to question him further. Been a long time since someone had done something like this out of the blue. On top of the little reality check Gus handed to me earlier, it seems Beth isn’t the only one I owe a great debt of gratitude. Unfamiliar territory for me to be in this position.

  When I optimistically open the car door and slide out, my legs can’t seem to hold me up, but before I land on my ass in my own drive, Gus pulls my arm around his shoulders and hoists me up.

  “Whoa, Big Guy. Slow down a spot, will ya? Gimme a chance to grab your wheels first.”

  Leaving me hanging on to the passenger side door, he makes quick work of grabbing the walker from the backseat and with a few experienced moves has it unfolded and positioned in front of me. I forgot this is par for the course for him, his wife Emma needs the use of a walker at all times, so he has plenty experience.

  I dig through my pockets, hoping to find the keys I would’ve had on me when I ended up in the hospital, but come up empty.

  “Don’t know where my keys went.”

  “I’ve got a set,” Gus responds before walking up the front path leaving me to look after him.

  “You do?”

  He turns around with a shrug of his shoulders and grin on his face. “Someone had to keep an eye on things here. Especially this last week since you woke up. Been a busy place.”

  With that he opens the door and walks in ahead of me.

  Nothing’s changed as far as I can see in the living room and kitchen, but there is a distinct smell of fresh paint, cut wood and something I can’t quite put my finger on, coming from the hallway to the back of the house where the bedrooms and bathrooms are. When I walk through, it becomes obvious that someone’s been doing a shitload more than just hanging a couple of doors. The two bedrooms on the left of the hallway have the doors open to reveal freshly polished wood floors with an obvious fresh layer of poly and light grey walls. No more dingy shag carpet or gaudy wallpaper with unidentified foliage on the walls. Well, fuck me sideways. A look on the opposite side of the narrow hall reveals the walk-in shower, I was hoping to build one day, in place of where the linen closet used to be. The old tub has been replaced with a huge over-sized modern claw-foot tub, and the raw stone tiles of the floor look just as I’d hoped they would against the glass subway tiles of the walls. Two bowl sinks, sitting on pedestal cabinets, are each topped with their own oval mirrors on the wall. This is fucking identical to what I envisioned. In fact, it looks like someone copied it straight from the notes and blueprints I had tucked in the center console of my truck. I walk through to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. When I open the door, my eyes flip up to the ceiling immediately. If I had any doubt before, the coffered ceiling that greets me is confirmation that whomever did this had my own plans in hand. Only one person I know is qualified for this kind of detail. Fucking Jed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Sixty-eight twenty-five, please.”

  The young girl manning the cash register snaps her gum, which reminds me I should pick up a supply. Chewing gum is my one addiction. I used to smoke, from time to time, but couldn’t stand the smell of it on me. Gum chewing is a healthier habit to have. At least it gives my mouth something to do.

  Grabbing a handful of packages, I pile them onto the belt for the girl to add to my bill.

  “Seventy-two fifty,” she says with barely contained impatience when I start digging for exact change.

  -

  I’d stopped at Safeway, just inside Cortez, to pick up groceries for Clint’s place. Not having had the presence of mind to ask what he wanted—I’d frankly been too pissed off—I wandered the isles for a bit, trying to remember all the things he’d eaten before at the diner. Scary how my mind seems to have retained all those snippets of information from the past year and filed them away. By the end of my trek through the store, my cart was surprisingly full.

  Loading the heavy bags into my old beater, I feel less and less sure about what I’m doing. With the anger at Clint dissipating a bit, I wonder if putting myself on the line, as I seem to be doing now, is actually going to help anyone. He’s made it abundantly clear that whatever interest he might have had in me before he ended up in the hospital, really has passed. How ironic that at the same time he loses interest, I finally come to my senses when it comes to wanting ...what? I’m not even sure what it is I’m looking for, but somewhere along the line I clued in that I was shooting myself in the foot. Sure, he isn’t the smoothest operator, but he’s a good man. From the first time I clapped eyes on him, he had me drooling. Exactly what got me riled in the first place; my physical reaction to his rugged good looks. Whenever that had happened before, I’d ended up with a broken heart, and I was done with that. Unfortunately, Clint bore the brunt of that. As a result, he gave up, which should’ve made me happy but instead, I’m hurting. Damn fool woman. So no, I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, forcing myself on him like this, preparing to move in with him until he recovers. Buying his goddamn groceries. Not a damn clue, except that when I thought he might not wake up at all, or survive his injuries, I had the breath knocked out of me. The thought of not having him around was almost paralyzing. I knew then I owed it to myself to give this—Clint and me—a try. I hope to God I’m strong enough to survive if this all goes south.

  -

  Pulling up beside Gus’s big Yukon in front of the garage, I wonder what Clint’s reaction had been to all the improvements. I’d given Jed his keys, so he could pick up some things for his brother. He also needed the truck to keep Mason Brothers running. When Jed came in one day with the idea of finishing the work Clint had started on his house, I’d been sceptical, not sure if he’d want someone else working on his plans. But with his doctor continuing to hammer home to us that even if he woke up, there’d be no guarantee he wouldn’t have permanent damage, I caved and told Jed to go for it. That had been two weeks ago, and Jed had managed to get some of the guys on their crews to put in a few extra overtime hours every day to get it done. Hell, the man had even driven into Grand Junction to pick up just the right bathroom fixtures one day. I hadn’t seen any of it yet. Hadn’t really seen the ‘before’ either, because the only time I’d ever been here was to drop off an order of food from the diner when he’d just moved in. I’d resolutely refused coming in when he invited me, and now I could hit myself over the stubborn head for that.

  Before I have a chance to open the trunk to start unloading the bags, the front door opens and Gus comes out.

  “Did you leave anything on the shelves?” he says, eyeing the number of bags in the car, before grabbing four of them at once and walking inside. Wiping my clammy hands on my jeans, I grab two of my own and follow him into the house. There’s no sign of Clint. When Gus catches me looking, he tilts his head down the hallway to the bedrooms.

  “He’s lying down for a bit. Guess the drive home and the state of his house took the stuffing out of him.”

  “How was his reaction?” I ask, knowing that Jed would be on pins and needles.

  “The house? He walked around in a daze and didn’t say much, but he didn’t get mad either, which I think is a good start. I do think he realizes his brother spearheaded it. Heard him mutter his name under his breath when he looked at the bathroom. Still can’t figure out why someone like Clint, a genuinely good guy who never seems to lose his shit, would be estranged from his brother. Another good guy, from what I can tell. It just doesn’t make sense,” Gus contemplates.

  “I have no answer for you. That’s one thing Jed refuses to talk about and so far, Clint hasn’t exactly been forthcoming either.”

  “Must’ve been a doozy. Let me just grab the last of the groceries from your car, and then I’ll head out. I called Emma to let her know where I was, and she was ready to hop in her car to drive over here. Managed to hold her off, but I’m not sur
e how long she’ll be able to resist if I don’t get my ass out of here soon.” Gus heads out the door, chuckling at his wife’s need to take care of everyone. Even those who don’t want taking care of. It’s one of the things I love about Emma, she looks out for everyone, no exception. Luckily she has Gus, whose sole purpose is to look after his wife, and he does that quite well.

  Ignoring the pang of envy, I start unpacking and putting away groceries. Gus comes in holding the last Safeway bags, along with my suitcase. Convenient that was in my car, it’s all the stuff that I’d brought to Dylan’s house.

  “You want this somewhere particular?” Gus holds up my suitcase.

  “One of the spare bedrooms, I guess. Is there even a bed?” I wonder, once again reminded that I might not have thought this through too well.

  “One of them has a bed, I’ll dump it in there.”

  Coming back into the kitchen, Gus suddenly pulls me into a hug, surprising the shit out of me.

  “Call when you need anything, okay? Even a break from that cranky shit in there. I’m sure this can’t be easy for a man like him, being laid up like this. I don’t suspect it’ll be easy on you either, so if you need out of the house, just give me or Emma a call.”

  Releasing me, he walks out, leaving me standing alone...in Clint’s kitchen. Weird.

  -

  -

  I must’ve fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes, dusk is coming in though the large picture window in my bedroom. I lie there for a bit, listening for sounds coming from the house, but it’s quiet. Last I remember, I heard Gus and Beth talking in the kitchen before my body gave in to the heavy draw of sleep.

  I have to steady myself on the walker, sitting beside my bed, when I try to get up. The constant dizziness is starting to piss me off. Even when I turn my head too abruptly, my world starts spinning. It takes a few minutes before my equilibrium settles and I can actually stand. I’d discarded my jeans and shirt when I went to lay down. Clad only in my boxers, I shuffle to the bathroom for a much needed piss, feeling about twice my forty-six years. Walking in I’m struck again how perfectly accurate to my vision this bathroom turned out. Knowing I likely had Jed to thank for it did not sit particularly well, though. But it didn’t stop me from admiring his handiwork. He’d always been a talented son of a bitch when it came to details and this work was no exception. The glass subway tile walls in the shower were testament to that, with bull-nosed edging around the top of the wall and intermittent L-shaped tiles neatly curving the corners, there isn’t a flaw to be found. And trust me, I try.