Page 79 of Cattle Stop
“He’s fine,” Whit finally says.
Drew points a finger at Whit. “This spring, when you asked—”
“Drew, forget it.”
“Is this why you wanted—I told you I couldn’t pay you more and—”
“C’mon, it’s fine.”
“It doesn’t sound like it’s fine.”
“I said it’s fine and it’s fine.”
“Are your folks okay?”
“My dad’s great. And their house was…well, it was a lot for them to handle over the winter. You know how much snow and ice we got. So, it was either an apartment, or I could’ve moved back in with them. Win, win.”
“You were going to move in with them?”
“No.”
“But—”
“Drew.”
“But if I can’t pay you more, are you going to?”
“Well, they sold their house. It’s kind of a moot point.”
“Yeah, but they said they sold it in March, and you asked in April and—”
“What’re you going to do, Drew, if I say yes?” Whit asks.
Penny purses her lips. Drew inhales sharply, his shoulders rising.
“You had some of your own shit going on,” Whit says.
“But that’s—we’re supposed to be—you didn’t even say anything.” Drew touches his forehead. “This is so like you! You just clam up and say nothing. Your dad had fucking cancer!”
“C’mon, Drew—”
“And then I just have to assume that when you say it’s fine, that it’s really fine and it’s clearly not fine. Fuck, Whit!”
“Oh, he’s actually mad,” Cooper whispers and Penny grimaces and nods.
Madder than Cooper’s seen him, that’s for sure. Drew, who was laughing a minute ago, and who couldn’t even muster more than an anxious irritation when his house fell apart and his farm took a nosedive. Now, the door slams behind him.
“Fuck,” Whit says softly. He jogs across the kitchen, and in his socks, pushes out the door. “Drew!”
But the engine in Drew’s Jeep turns over, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
Cooper edges toward the window. Outside, Whit turns in a sharp circle, his hands in his hair. Penny bumps her shoulder into Cooper’s and they watch Whit pace one way and then back again.
“Well, shit,” she murmurs.
“Whit miscalculated that one,” Cooper says.
“To be fair, I told him that.”
