“You have to understand—I was trying to do what was best for you,” I cry, my words turning into sobs.
Rhett hangs his head. He takes a breath and blows it out slowly. “When I saw you the other day with my dogs, something sparked inside me—something I hadn’t felt since our last phone call—and I knew right then that no matter what I told myself, every attempt I’d made to put you in my past had failed. It’s felt so good to have a friendship with you again. I convinced myself I could look past what you’d done if it meant having you as part of my life, but I’m not sure I can get past this.”
“Yes,” I plead, stepping toward him. “Yes, you can, because there’s more, Rhett. God, there’s so much more you need to know.”
His eyes grow wide, his lips turning up in a sardonic smile. “How much more could there possibly be? I’m not sure I want to hear what else you have to say, Mo. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
My mouth drops open. He has to hear me out; he has to know I tried to fix us. “You have to try, Rhett. This matters. We matter.”
He shakes his head and gives me his back, walking toward the front of Dirty Dicks.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some space, Mo. I need to think, and I can’t do that here. I can’t do that when I’m around you.”
“You can’t leave,” I beg. “You can’t walk away without letting me finish.”
When Rhett’s eyes meet mine over his shoulder, I feel like my insides are being ripped out. “I’m not walking away, Mo. You did that six years ago.”
Monroe
“You want some more bacon?”
I hold the plate out toward my father, but he lifts the fingers on his good hand and shakes his head. “N-no. Th-thank you.”
He never ceases to amaze me. After all this time, he’s still making progress. The doctors told us his speech might never be normal, and it’s not, but it’s pretty darn close. His words come slowly, but they’re getting clearer.
“More coffee?”
He shakes his head.
Dad’s eyes track me while I move about the kitchen, washing the breakfast dishes and putting them away. Times like this, I wonder what he’s thinking about. Does he see my mom in me? Does it hurt him to think of her the way it hurts me? Or maybe he’s thinking I’m a shit caregiver and he’d be better off at a home.
Draping the towel over the sink, I look at my dad. “Can I ask you a question?”
He nods toward the seat. I pull it out and sit down.
“What are you thinking about right now?” I ask. “Sometimes you watch me, and I wonder what you’re thinking.”
His brow dips low, and after a few seconds he looks over my shoulder with a blank stare. Eventually he speaks. “Th-that I’m so p-proud of you.”
I wrap my hand around his good one so he can feel my touch. “I’m proud of you too.”
Dad squeezes his eyes shut, and I scoot my chair closer to his wheelchair. “You okay?”
He tries to shake his head. It’s more of a jerky movement, but one I understand. “I w-wish I would’ve d-died.”
“What?” I gasp. “No. No, Dad, don’t think that.”
His jaw tightens. “Th-this isn’t the life I w-wanted for you.”
“Dad—”
He squeezes my hand tight. “I want you t-to close the sh-shelter and go b-back to school.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
“That was my d-dream, not yours, M-Monroe.”
“Dreams change, Dad. That’s the thing about life—it’s constantly shifting and rearranging itself, and with that comes new perspectives. Animal Haven might not have been my dream in the beginning, but I love what I do, and I love those animals. I’m not keeping it for you; I’m keeping it for me.”
Dad’s eyes well up with tears. “What about s-school?”
I don’t bother telling him I’ll likely never go back—or that even if I wanted to, they wouldn’t accept me. My advisor made it clear that getting accepted into the program to begin with was difficult, and once a seat is given up, it’s virtually impossible to reclaim. I could always apply to a different program, but there are only so many in the United States, and I don’t want to move away from Heaven. Not anymore.
“You let me worry about that, okay?”
He doesn’t look happy with my request, but he squeezes my hand to tell me he’ll oblige. For now.
I kiss his cheek. “Want to go in the living room and watch a movie? Or we can take a walk. It’s beautiful outside.”
With sad eyes, my dad shakes his head. “I would l-like to lay back d-d-down for a while.”
Tilting my head, I frown. “You just got up an hour ago.”
“Haven’t b-been sleeping well.”
My mind goes on red alert. “You aren’t getting a bedsore, are you? Maybe you should let me check.”
“No. N-no bedsore. I hear you c-crying.”
“Oh, Dad.” Shaking my head, I look down.
“Wanted to c-come check on you, b-but I couldn’t g-get up. Hate that, M-Mo.”
Damn. Most days I’m able to stay strong, to shoulder the stress of my life, but this last week—since that night after leaving Dirty Dicks—has been increasingly tough. Everything has piled up, and all I’ve been able to think about is the look on Rhett’s face and the lies I told to cause it. I’ve been over and over how I could have let Nikki manipulate me like that, and I don’t have an answer. I think only now do I realize the depth of my despair in those days after my dad’s stroke. Anyway, I certainly didn’t mean for anyone to hear me breaking down, particularly my father.
Six years of pain and frustration, six years of thinking it had to be for the best. Six years of running my ass off day after day—and seven days since I’ve seen Rhett. Seven days since he refused to let me tell the rest of my story.
“I’m okay, Dad. I’ve just had a bad week.”
“When those d-dogs were here, you were s-so happy. I haven’t seen y-you that happy in y-years.”
It wasn’t the dogs that made me happy; it was their owner. There was a warmth in my heart, knowing Rhett was back home.
Coop showed up the morning after my argument with Rhett. He didn’t ask what happened and he didn’t make small talk, he simply took Duke and Diesel and left a bigger hole in my life than I’d woken up with.
“I’ll get back there, Dad. I promise.”
“W-want you to be h-happy.”
“I know you do.”
He pats my hand and nods. “I’m here f-for you.”
“I know you are.” I kiss his cheek again, thankful he’s still with me. “Want me to help you back to bed?”
“P-please.”
Getting my father into bed isn’t as hard as it could be. He’s lost a lot of weight over the years, which makes it easier on my back. I keep a gait belt wrapped around his waist, so all I have to do is push his chair next to the bed and make the transfer. He’s got enough strength on one side to help steady himself as I turn him toward the bed.
Once I get him situated, I put the bell on his nightstand. “Ring whenever you’re ready to get up.”
His eyes are closed in a matter of seconds, and I shut off the light on my way out. I close the door and lean my back up against it. With my head in my hands I slide to the ground. I’ve just pulled my knees to my chest when there’s a knock on the front door.
I groan, dropping my head back against the bedroom door.
The front door opens, and Claire pops her head in. “It’s just me.” She spots me on the floor, shuts the front door, and drops her purse on the couch. “What are you doing on the floor?” she asks, sliding down the wall across from me.
“Thinking.”
“That’ll get in you in trouble.”
“The way I see it, a little thinking might’ve kept me out of it.”
“Ahh.” She nods. “We’re talking about Rhett. You should go talk to him.” She says this as though it’s the simplest thing
in the world.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Because everything is ruined. I broke his heart, Claire. He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say, let alone see me.”
“You didn’t break him, Mo.”
I give her a look, and she smiles.
“What? You didn’t. Yes, you may have done some damage, but that man is anything but broken. He’s had an amazing career, made tons of money. He’s a freaking model, for God’s sake, and he could have any woman he set his sights on.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Lucky for you, he doesn’t want just any woman; he wants you.”
“Ha! He wants me to go away maybe, but that’s the only thing he wants from me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“What are you saying, Claire?”
She purses her lips. “You made a mistake, and now it’s time you make it better. It’s not his job to come after you so you can stop staring at your phone and waiting for him to call. If you want to be heard, make him hear you.”
Her words spur something inside of me. Maybe she’s right. Whatever else was happening around me, I made this mess, so I’m the only one to clean it up. I’ve been giving Rhett time, waiting for him to come to me when he’s ready, but why should he after what I did?
“Do you have any plans today?” I ask.
“It’s Sunday. Do I ever have plans on Sunday?” Claire smiles and pushes up from the floor. She pulls me up alongside her and says, “I don’t even know why you’re still here. Go.”
“Thank you.” I wrap her in a quick hug and grab my purse from the kitchen. “I’ll try to be back soon.”
“Take your time. I’ve got nowhere to be.”
“You sure you can handle Dad if he wakes up?”
“Go! Stop worrying about everyone else for a change.”
Rhett
“Want to grab a burger?” Coop asks.
“Nope.”
“Pizza? I could go for a slice of Dewey’s.”
“Not hungry.”
“Come on,” he sighs, kicking my legs off his coffee table. “You’ve gotta get up and do something, brother.”
“I have. I went to physical therapy four times this week.”
“That’s all you’ve done.”
My phone rings from the table, but I don’t bother checking it. It’s probably Nikki, and she’s about the last person I want to talk to right now—right behind the Woman Who Shall Not Be Named.
“You gonna answer that?”
“Nope.”
I look at the phone when it stops ringing and see a missed call from Mo. It’s the first time she’s called. I should answer it, give her the chance to explain, but I don’t because I’m an asshole.
“That the first you’ve heard from her?”
“Yup.”
“You don’t want to hear what she has to say?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“We both know that isn’t true.” Coop grabs the remote from my lap and presses pause on the TV.
I exhale a sharp breath. “You really want to do this, Coop? Should we paint our toenails, have a pillow fight, and talk about our feelings?”
His lips twitch. “Sure, if it means getting your ass off this couch. You’re starting to stink.”
“Screw you.”
Duke stretches out next to me, rolls over, and farts.
“Your damn dog stinks too.” Coop groans, fanning the air in front of his face.
Duke lifts a lazy eye to see what all the commotion is about and then rolls back over. My fingers slip through his soft coat, rubbing at the sweet spot behind his ear. Coop pissed and moaned about getting the dogs from Mo, said I should let her keep them a few more days, but I needed to remove the temptation to see her.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be around much longer.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Come on, Coop. This isn’t permanent. I’m over a week into physical therapy, and my shoulder feels good.” There’s still a tight pain when I try to lift my arm, but it’s getting better by the day. “It’s been two weeks since the accident. I need to start focusing on my career and getting back on the bull.”
“You and that damn bull,” Coop says, shaking his head. “What about that photo shoot you were telling me about? I thought Nikki wanted to do that out at Dad’s.”
“I fired her.”
“Figured as much.”
I didn’t fire her that night at Dirty Dicks; she was way too drunk to understand what was going on. Coop and I put her up in a hotel, and I was there waiting for her in the morning when she woke up. I delivered the news and walked out—nothing she could’ve said was going to make a difference. Her breach of trust still takes my breath every time I think about it. Poor Mo. I mean, I have my own set of issues with Mo, but Nikki interfered in my life, manipulating my relationship to get what was best for her and her father without any thought about me as a person, and messed up my future in the process.
“Now what? Do you have another manager lined up?”
“Not yet, no. I contacted my lawyer. He’s drawing up paperwork to sever my contract with the Atwood Agency. I’ll wait until that goes through and then figure something out.”
My phone rings again. Coop and I look down at the same time to see Mo’s name flash across the screen.
“Must be pretty important if she’s calling back.”
“She doesn’t give a shit about me.”
Scowling, Coop stands up from the couch. “Is that really what you think?”
“You don’t know what she did, Coop. Trust me, if you knew, you would agree.”
“Maybe you’re right, maybe not, but you won’t tell me, so…” He looks at me meaningfully. “As things stand, I believe that woman cares about you.” Coop digs in his pocket, pulling out his phone.
He taps the screen a few times and drops it on my lap.
“What is this?” I ask, ignoring the pounding in my heart.
“Watch that and then tell me Mo doesn’t care about you.”
I drop my head, my eyes locked on Coop’s phone. The picture is shaky but clear as his face comes into view.
“Hey, brother.” He smiles into the camera before turning toward the bar. “Everyone is piled in at Dirty Dicks to watch the show. We’re all rooting for you. Everybody say hi,” he yells.
The camera scans the room, and there are several familiar faces. They all hoot and holler, each one fading out of the picture to make room for the next, and then the camera lands on Mo, and I stop breathing all together.
She glares at the camera before flipping it off, and then I’m left with another view of the room. The picture on the TV is faint, but I can make it out through the video. Everyone cheers as the announcers rattle off a series of statistics. Everything seems to happen much faster now that I’m watching it from Coop’s phone, and I gasp for air along with everyone in that room when I’m thrown from Lucifer. But what happens next nearly brings me to my knees.
Mo flings herself over the bar and rushes to the TV as though she wants to reach through it and be the one to help me. The camera on the phone shifts, the sound muffling, but I’m able to make out what Mo says.
“Why isn’t he moving?” She’s crying, and as morbid as it sounds, I’d give anything to see her face. “He should be moving, right? Dammit, Rhett,” she cries. “I need you to move. Fucking move already. He’s so still. Why aren’t they helping? They need to do something.”
Mo comes back on the video. The view is slanted to the side, and there’s too much white noise to hear what she says, but the wild, desperate look in her eyes tells me everything. I swallow hard, waiting to see what she’ll do next. There’s a pause, followed by her frantic cry for Cooper. “Coop!” After a loud thud, the video goes black.
I look up to find Coop. He’s standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, his hip propp
ed against the frame.
“She was scared to death. We both were. I don’t know what happened between you two all those years ago—other than Nikki clearly helped make a mess of things—and frankly, I don’t need to know, but Mo cares about you. Probably even loves you, if I had to guess. She hasn’t dated anyone since you two broke up. Not once.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes. I’m not sure what to think about that. Why didn’t she date? Because of me? Was she hoping I’d come back? Because that’s pretty twisted after the lie she told.
I look away, taking a second to get a hold of my emotions, although I’m finding it difficult because they’re swirling all over the damn place.
“You’ve seemed happy since you’ve been back in Heaven, and I’d say it has something to do with seeing Mo. If there’s still something there, you owe it to yourself to figure out if you two can sort through the past. A girl like her won’t stay single forever.” Coop grabs his phone from my lap and slides it into his pocket. “I’ve gotta head down to the pub, check on a few things. When I get back, you better be off this couch, and for the love of God, take a damn shower.”
I stare at the front door for a long time after Coop leaves, wondering what in the world I’m supposed to do about Mo. I’m relieved that she didn’t cheat on me with Charlie Dixon, but I’m not sure I can get over her lie, mitigating circumstances or not. She’s had six years to come clean, and she never chose to do that until she had to.
I groan, and my head falls into my hands. Duke shoves his wet nose against the side of my face.
“I’m okay, bud,” I say, giving him a pat. “Just trying to figure out what to do about Mo.” His ears perk at the sound of her name, and I laugh. “She’s gotten to you too, huh?”
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