“Okay, but are you cold? We can turn on your seat warmer.”
I reach for the button to turn it on, but she slaps my hand away before I can. “Boy, I am plenty capable of turning on my seat warmer if I should want it. I’m not incapable.”
Wincing at her brash tone, I put the car in reverse and back out of the spot. Discharge at the hospital took much longer than either of us anticipated. The nurses had told us she should be out of there by noon. Then something came up—some other surgery or complication or something—and the doctor was unable to make his way to her room. It’s after five in the evening, and we’re just now leaving. They were going to keep her another night since it was getting so late, but she bit their heads off and demanded to be let go.
The medication she’s on can apparently cause mood swings…and it shows. Which, I get it; she’s been cooped up in the hospital, hooked up to monitors and IVs for days. I’d want to be at home, in my own bed too.
Thankfully, there’s no traffic on the drive. I’m already mentally going through my to-do list for tonight that I’ll need to start as soon as we get home and I get her settled. Farm chores will need to be done, we’re both going to need to eat, and I don’t think there’s anything in the house that’s easy to throw together, so I’ll have to cook something, I’m sure. If I didn’t think my aunt would chew me out for it, I’d stop and pick up burgers and fries somewhere. But it’s getting dark and the animals are probably confused about where we are and where their dinner is, so that takes precedence.
Still, I know by the time I crawl into bed tonight, I’m going to be so physically and mentally exhausted. I’m glad she’s coming home and she’s okay, though. That’s all that really matters. The plus side to all of this is that it’s helped me keep my mind off my breakup with Henry. And the fact that he hasn’t, not once, texted me to check in and see how my aunt is, or how I am. Not that I necessarily want to talk to him—because I don’t—but it would be nice to show that he cared enough. We were together for a significant amount of time, after all. If the roles were reversed and it were his family in the hospital, breakup or not, I’d still want to check in and make sure they were doing okay.
And then, of course, my mind drifts over to Cope, and I can’t help but compare the two of them, even though there’s no comparison. The entire time my aunt’s been in the hospital, he’s been texting and checking up on me. Offering to bring me food. Asking what the doctors were saying and how she was feeling. He’s just so attentive and caring, and he has no reason to be.
He's Henry’s polar opposite in every single way, and as much as I appreciate all that he’s done and the kind words he’s given me when it’s clear I’m anxious, it also makes me uncomfortable because I’ve never had this from anybody. Sure, Travis has checked in and made sure everything is okay because he’s my best friend, but this is different. We, essentially, barely knoweach other, and Cope is going above and beyond, simply because he wants to.
It’s like my brain doesn’t know how to process that and accept it. How pathetic is that? Knowing I’ve been treated so poorly in past relationships that I don’t know how to accept being treated with no-strings kindness. Because yes, after the almost-kiss at the bonfire, it’s clear that, despite how straight I thought Cope was, he feelssomethingfor me a bit more than friendly, even if it’s only physical. But I don’t at all get the vibe that he’s doing all of this because he’s trying to get with me. He’s doing it because he’s simply a genuinely nice guy…and my mind can’t make sense of that.
Finally making it home, I park in front of the house and turn off the car. Before I can even get out and attempt to help my aunt, she’s already gone.Stubborn old bat.As I’m getting her discharge paperwork and her bag of stuff from the back seat, I hear her talking, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. Shutting the car door, I’m about to ask her to repeat what she just said to me, when I glance over the top of the car and see she isn’t talking to me at all.
She’s talking to Cope…who is standing in front of the house, with what looks to be a slow cooker in his hands. His head turns in my direction and our gazes lock for a moment. He gives me a quick nod of his chin before he follows Aunt Colette inside.
Okay…what the hell is going on?
Befuddled, I use the key fob to lock the car, and I follow them inside. Cope’s in the kitchen with my aunt as I enter, and he’s plugging the—yup, I was right—slow cooker into the wall.
“Hey, what’s this?” I ask, setting everything on the table. My chest feels tight and my throat aches as I take Cope in, standing in my aunt’s kitchen, clearly bringing her food.
Before he can respond, my aunt chimes in. “I’m going to change and wash my face.”
Cope and I both watch her leave.
My stomach clenches and my palms are sweaty as I nervously drag my gaze back to him and ask again, “What’s this?”
He smiles, and even though it’s small, it does something to my insides. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats, and a Carhartt jacket over a plain black t-shirt. From seeing him on the porch, I know he was also wearing a pair of boots, but he must’ve toed them off before coming inside…because he’s a fucking gentleman like that. The backward hat on his head completes the mouthwatering, rugged cowboy look he’s got going on.
“Figured you guys might be hungry, and after eating only hospital food for days, I thought something hot and homecooked might be nice.”
He…cooked for us.“You didn’t?—”
“Have to do that,” he finishes for me, breathing out a laugh. “Yes, city boy. I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”
The blood roars in my ears as my body feels light. “It smells good,” I say, meaning it.
“It’s nothing special,” he mutters with a shrug. “Just a beef stew, and I made some cornbread.”
Just some beef stew and cornbread. I swallow around the crater sized lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I practically whisper as I try to slow the pounding of my heart. It’s like it’s trying to crack through my ribs and fly right out of my chest. Maybe toward him.
Cope holds my gaze, the eye contact strong and heady. My knee-jerk reaction is to look away, but I force myself to do the opposite. “You’re welcome. Oh, and I took care of the evening chores, so you don’t have to worry about that. You can just eat and relax tonight.”
Clenching my jaw, pressure builds behind my eyes, the tip of my nose burning. I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or cry…maybe a little bit of both. And honestly, I don’t know wherethese emotions are coming from. Probably exhaustion, or the stress of the last week catching up to me, but this is so fucking nice. And so thoughtful. Why would he do this?
Cope takes a couple of steps in my direction, probably worried I’ve had a stroke with how silent I’ve gone. He stops in front of me, but not too close. “You doing okay?” he asks gently. “I’m sure the last week has been a lot for you.”
I nod, wetting my lips with my tongue. “Thank you for doing all of this. You have no idea how helpful it is, and how much it means to me.”
“It’s no big deal. I had the free time and I wanted to do something to help.”
“Don’t do that,” I mutter with a quick shake of my head. “Don’t downplay it. Thank you, really.”
