A Fallow Heart (Tommy Creek #2)(94)

His surreal existence continued all the way through the service and off to the cemetery. He sat under the canopied tent in front of his father’s closed casket three spaces down from his mother and next to his brother-in-law as the last prayer chanted through the warm summer air.

And another line of mourners began. He managed the obligatory smile and nod, hugged all the ladies who bent down to console him, shook all the hands thrust in his face.

By the time B.J. Gilmore appeared in front of him, he wanted to grab her and drag her off to Rio’s Bar to play pool or throw darts. If he’d known his night with her would be the last piece of normal he ever saw, he wouldn’t have stopped at taking her shirt off. He would’ve—

“Hey, bud.” She squeezed his shoulder. “This just isn’t your week, is it?”

He laughed softly. “Doesn’t seem to be.”

The growing crowd behind her forced her to move along. An urge overcame him to snake out his arm and grab her wrist, yanking her back to his side—grabbing the only sense of reality he’d felt in two days—but he controlled himself and turned to the next couple in line with a polite, distant smile.

When he focused on the woman, he didn’t recognize her at first. He had to blink twice before Emma Leigh, and then her husband, focused in his brain.

“Em?” He whispered. Holy hell, she’d come all the way back from Reno for his father’s funeral; for him.

Immediately, his gaze moved past her and past Branson. When he paused at the woman in line behind them, the breath shuddered from his lungs.

Oh, God. She was here.

His body stirred, a powerful jolt of life and love roaring through him. He was so busy staring at Jo Ellen, meeting her tear-stained gaze, he didn’t hear what Em said to him or that she even spoke until she leaned down to hug him.

“I’m so sorry for you loss, Coop. He was a good man.”

He murmured something, agreeing with her, but his attention return to her twin. She wore another skirt, a straight black thing that fell down to her knees. Her top was prim and short-sleeved, and she’d never looked so beautiful.

She held her shoulders stiffly and her hands folded tight at her waist.

He wanted to lurch to his feet so fast his chair fell over backward. Then he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her far away from here. Jesus. His body actually vibrated the urge was so strong.

Branson shook Coop’s hand next, but he didn’t even feel the pressure of the other man’s grip. After Em’s husband stepped aside, Jo Ellen finally moved in front of him and paused.

Rasping her name, he started to rise, but she’d already bent to hug him, so he dropped back down into his seat.

She said nothing, just held him. One breath passed. Two breaths.

He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her, sinking into her scent, memorizing the texture of her blouse, consuming her essence. His lips parted as he exhaled.

All too soon, she released him and stepped back.

Cooper kept eye contact with her until Brendel’s husband sitting next to him reached out to shake her hand, tearing her attention away. And then she was gone.

His insides squirmed with jittery unease. A part of him screamed to go after her, don’t let her get away. But he was at this father’s graveside; he couldn’t just leave.

Could he?

Jesus Christ, where was his head? He couldn’t disrespect his father like that.

More people flooded through the line until he couldn’t see her anymore.

For the first time since getting that phone call from his mother at B.J.’s house, he damn near cried.



* *



Cooper skipped the family lunch. Actually, he’d had every intention of going, but as they left the cemetery and moved their group to the reception hall behind his church, he finally found a moment to talk to his mother again. She sidled up to him and touched his elbow. Relieved to be allowed this close to her, he encompassed her in a one-armed hug and walked along with her a few paces.

When she pulled back, they both stopped and she studied him intently. He knew she had something important to say before she opened her mouth.

“Stacia and I have been talking,” she started. “She says it’s been tough for her, raising three teen boys alone since her divorce, so I think I’m going to go live with them once this is over and settled.”

Shock speared through him. Of all the things he’d thought she might say, this was the very last.

“I…but…are you sure, Mama? This is what you really want?”

She nodded. “I need people around. Family. I need to feel useful and necessary.”

He gulped, wanting to argue how he needed her around; she was beyond necessary to him. But that just felt selfish. More than anything, he wanted his mother to be happy. “Well, then…I’ll help you get everything settled and packed. Whatever you need from me.”

She squeezed his hands and smiled. “You’re a good son, Cooper, a good man. Just like your father. You deserve to be happy.”

He frowned when she spoke those last words, repeating the very sentiment she’d given him a month ago, making him wonder if she’d only agreed to move in the hope of freeing him.

When she turned away, he didn’t follow her. He watched her spine stiffen with resolve as the rest of the family swallowed her up. Then he backed off. His sisters looked content to swaddle her with attention, and his nieces and nephews seemed better without him around, intimidating them.