I don’t miss the hard clench of his jaw as he nods. “Yeah.”
“You okay?”
Another clipped nod. “Yup. Just tired.”
Glancing over at Suzy, she’s already watching me, her wide blue eyes glinting and her coiled blonde curls hanging around her face. “Did you keep daddy up all night, Miss Suzy Q?”
A giggle and a nod are all she gives me, extending her arms toward me in a silent plea for me to grab her. I do, bringing her onto my lap just as the server comes and takes all of our orders.
By the time our food comes out, my nausea has mostly subsided, replaced with a grumbling of hunger. My mouth waters as I dig into the plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Boone cuts up a small plate of eggs and pancakes for Suzy, and she eats on my lap, stealing a strip of bacon off my plate with a giggle.
“So, the next rodeo is Thursday in Sugar Creek, right?” Sterling asks the table.
“Correct,” Cope responds mid-bite.
“But we’re not going straight there today, are we?”
Cope shakes his head. “Nah, we’re going to Rigger Falls for a few nights. They have some killer hiking spots and waterfalls that Shooter, here, gets a boner for every year.”
“Hey, now,” I interject. “First of all, little ears here.” I point toward Suzy before continuing. “And secondly, I happen to like waterfalls. Sue me.”
“How far away is Rigger Falls from here?” Sterling asks nobody in particular.
“About two hours,” I reply before adding, just to be an ass, “Why? You got somewhere to be, Addams?”
His responding scowl makes me laugh. “No, asshole, I was just asking.”
“Little ears, bro!”
“It’s fine,” Boone cuts in. “It’s nothing she hasn’t heard before.”
After we all finish eating and pay the bill, we pile in the trucks and head on our way. Cope is still driving and I’m in the backseat, giving Sterling shotgun. He’s playing DJ, and I’lladmit, he’s got good taste. I feel immensely better after eating, my headache nearly gone, but I still manage to pass out for about an hour until my phone rings, waking me up. It’s my dad.
“Dad,” I say by way of greeting, clearing my throat from sleep. “Calling to congratulate me?”
He sighs, and I bite down on my molars as I wait for whatever bullshit is about to come.
“The Addam’s kid almost beat you, son. What the hell was that about?”
“But he didn’t,” I grit out, trying to keep my voice down.
“This is his first year on the circuit, Shooter. You’ve been doing this for years. There’s no reason he should’ve gotten as close to beating you as he did.”
Cope glances at me in the rearview mirror, and I can tell by the look in his eyes, he knows exactly what my dad is saying right now. None of us are ever shocked by his version of tough love. Although, for once, it would be nice if it didn’t go that route. But Clay Graham is nothing if not a proud motherfucker, with standards as high as his ego. Nothing’s ever good enough.
I scrub a hand over my mouth, trying to tamp down the frustration bubbling inside of me. “Is this really all you called for, Dad?”
Like hell am I going to sit here in this car and argue with my dad about this in front of Sterling. That’s all I need is for him to know my father was talking about how great he is and how I need to be better.
“Now, son, calm down,” he grumbles. “I’m just saying, I know how talented you are, and I know you can do better than that, Shooter. You’re a world champ, for Christ’s sake. Act like it.”
He says all of this calmly, almost cheerfully, like he’s praising me instead of berating me. It’s been this way my entire life, and I think what’s the most frustrating is he doesn’t do this shit toDaisy. Never once has he told her to push harder or do better. It’s always,“Great job, Daisy.” “You’re doing so well, Daisy.”
“Sure thing, Dad. Thanks for calling.”
As soon as I hang up, Cope asks, “Everything okay, man?”
I offer a clipped “Yup” and nothing more. He knows better than to push. All the while, Sterling is quiet as a fucking mouse in the passenger seat. Which annoys the fuck out of me, although I don’t know why.
