Page 80 of Cattle Stop

“To be fairer, I’d have nearly enjoyed Whit being so wrong if Drew didn’t look so butthurt.” Cooper blows out a breath. “I think Drew might be under just a touch of stress.”

“Just a tiny bit.”

“Just the smallest, life-shattering crises of his family farm on the brink of going out of business, falling behind on his bills, and swamping his entire future.”

“No biggie.”

“Not at all.”

“He’ll be back in a bit,” Penny says and Cooper nods. “You gonna go talk to Whit?”

She’s looking at him steadily, her head tipped.

Yeah, Cooper nearly says but chokes on the word before he can let it out.

Talk to Whit and say what? Cooper straightens from his lean against the windowsill. He can’t touch what Whit and Penny have. What Whit and Penny and Drew all have—he’ll be back in a bit.

This isn’t the first tiff in the roommates-coworkers-friends thing they’ve had going on for so long now. It probably plays out like this more than Cooper knows, feathers getting ruffled and the proverbial pot boiling over, a hint of awkwardness and irritation staining the air until it clears out again.

Cooper tries for a smile. “Nah, go work your cousin magic. I’m gonna call that cheese shop and follow up with Myra.”

He goes upstairs to their bedroom to make the call, though he just gets Myra’s voicemail, and after he leaves a message, he kicks off his jeans and slowly lowers himself to the edge of his bed.

Years of stuff, Cooper thinks, imagining Whit’s parents and their garage. In his mind, it’s full to bursting with Whit’s childhood, the detritus of a happy family and proud parents who carefully collected any and every keepsake. What had Whit said once? That they’d wanted a full house of kids, but only Whit had come along, and he’d gotten the full force of their excitement and delight?

Cooper’s own pictures from high school, his diploma, his shin guards, cleats, and old soccer jersey are…somewhere.

Though no, Mom probably got rid of them.

He rolls onto his back. Not probably. Definitely. His old bedroom is an office now, and last time he stayed over, Terry put sheets on the couch for him. He had laughed and made some joke over the knot of hurt and laid awake all damn night, picturing himself anywhere else but there.

Cooper glances over at his duffle bag—it’s still upside down where he left it, and all the clothes he’s got in the world fit inside. Enough for ten days, two weeks if he’s careful. His heavy insulated boots are jammed behind the passenger seat in his truck, along with his winter jacket, and his hat and gloves that he hasn’t needed in weeks now. And that’s it, isn’t it? The sum of his entire damn life.

By the time he hears the Jeep again, it’s dark enough that the headlights cut across the walls of the room. Cooper listens as Drew’s familiar steps creak down the hall. He knocks gently at the door and Cooper calls out, “Yeah?”

Drew pokes just his head through. “Is Whit around?”

“He and Penny went for a walk, I think.”

“Okay.”

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” Drew lifts a shoulder. “No. I don’t know.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Just tired. I’ll be okay.”

Drew shuts the door softly. Footsteps down the hall, the squeak of Drew’s bedroom door, and then the snick of it closing again. Cooper lets his head fall back against his pillow. That’s better than Drew retreating to the attic and his hammer and his ongoing revenge against the squirrels. Quieter at least, if it isn’t a bit depressing how silent the house is.

Maybe Cooper should get up and pull a conversation out of Drew. Though he’d say what, exactly? Sorry he showed up here in the first place? Walked right into the perfect balance of the three of them and upended it all?

Cooper can hear Sadie shuffle across the floor downstairs when Whit and Penny come back, their voices low. Cooper turns on his side and presses his face into his pillow as Whit pushes open their door.

“Drew was looking for you,” Cooper says.

“His light’s off.”