Page 65 of Risking it for the Cowboy

She went inside, the screen whinging shut.

He pulled it out, remaining on the porch, as their voices murmured softly, as the ramifications of what Charlie had just begged settled within him. Slipped on his glasses again and turned the volume low so the text aloud would play. Sure enough, Tyler:

4:59: “You okay?”

The most recent text, in a string going back to the morning. He scrolled down to the bottom text and began working his way up.

9:01: “I know it’s your day off. But you plan on grabbing those vitamins on your way home? Earl said you’ve usually been and gone by now.”

9:15: “Need me to get the vitamins, man? Earl said you ain’t been by yet.”

10:33: “You still at your girl’s house? Saw you leave this morning with that Rover. Saw your shop light on at 4 when I got up.”

God, Ty seemed needy without his woman, texting him like a mother hen when normally the man hated phones about as much as T.R. did.

11:00: “Come by my office tomorrow. 3:00. Got something we need to talk about. Shouldn’t put you late for your band rehearsal.”

Yeah, tomorrow was rehearsal day at his place. One of two times a week his place came alive. Filled with laughter and happiness. When Jack brought his twin boys to play on the old playset from when T.R. had been a pipsqueak, and usually some homemade cookies or cake, when they jammed and tapped longnecks in cheers while the ribs or brisket or chicken breasts or whatever meat Jack, his bassist who owned a food truck, happened to bring for T.R. to throw on the grill.

12:00: *Missed call.

1:00: *Missed call.

2:00: *Missed call.

2:45: “You being petulant?” T.R. smirked as the text aloud dictated. “It’s about your position here.”

3:42: “You gonna answer or what?” the voice text said robotically.

Shoot, Tyler was angry. Dare he read the rest, he thought, as he scrolled, if he already knew what was … coming…

4:09: *Two missed calls.

4:30: “Where are you?”

4:48: “Earth to Thaddeus. Need vitamins.”

Huh. He ought to jet. The feed store wasn’t even open Sundays, yet Earl always let T.R. in through the back to grab his stock every Sunday morning and it wasn’t fair to put the old man out. But…

What if Jason came back and he wasn’t here to ward the bastard off? What if he hurt them, instead of just threatened them? His eyes lifted to the woman and girl beyond the screen door, worry digging a talon under his skin.

“I wish he wasn’t so mean,” Daisy was murmuring, skinny arms cinched around her momma’s waist as Charlie held her, pressing a kiss to her head. “I wish he’d just leave us alone so we could find a nice daddy who doesn’t fight or curse…”

“Shh, sweet girl,” Charlie whispered like a prayer, looking up to the heavens as if she might find atonement in the atmosphere. “I’m sorry I didn’t do better by you…”

T.R. brought his phone to his lips and spoke: “Tell Earl I’m on my way. Sorry got held up.” Hit send.

More inaudible muttering filtered out from the house when Charlie extricated herself and ducked back into the kitchen. T.R. creaked open the screen. The scent of dinner welcomed like a tease, and he slipped inside to say goodbye—

“Let’s have supper, Daisy!” Charlie called.

He went into the kitchen as feet scampered from somewhere.

Charlie glanced up at him, a stack of tortillas in hand, then glanced to the keys in his.

“I’m gonna screw up.” The words blurted softly from his lip and hung silently in the air between them. “I always do.”

She searched his face, putting him on the spot.