Page 120 of We Drank the Dawn

I pressed the ice bag against the split, focusing on the sting in my chin.

Nope. Not gonna happen.

No one was allowed to move on until I did. I’d go first.

“So, does anyone here actually ride at the rodeo?” Peter asked.

Tag answered. “Harlan’s the only one who’s done much of that.”

Harlan swiped a napkin over his lips. “Yep. If ya like the adrenaline rush of ropin’, bareback bronc ridin’ is something else.”

“Do you compete?” Peter asked.

“Just at local stuff. One-off rodeos for the fun of it.”

“That’s cool.”

“I meet great folks and win some belt buckles.”

“Can anyone do it?” Peter asked again, and I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what was going on in his head. Was he asking because he wanted to try it?

Harlan rattled off about local places that anyone could sign up for, and Peter nodded, soaking it all in. The conversation flitted to the rodeo Harlan was slotted to compete in about an hour away. And somehow we ended up talking about funnel cake of all things.

As relaxed as the evening was, a sliver of my soul felt frantic, desperate to cling to every second. My spirit mourned like I was losing something that could never be brought back. Like every drip of happiness and peace I got to experience drained the tank. And once it ran dry, my time would be up. I’d be thrown to the demons that nipped at my heels.

Honestly, it was pretty dumb, worrying myself over something that wasn’t even happening.

I could almost hear my counselor in my head.

“Cooper, you’re catastrophizing.”

Whatever. It was impossible not to.

It was a good day. And good days scared the shit out of me.

FORTY

Sarah

Iwas driving home from work when my phone rang.

Mom’s ringtone.

Dread curled in my stomach. Seeing the name Mom on my caller ID raised an alarm because we rarely talked. If we did, it was because I reached out. Not her.

I tapped my dash, answering the call. “Hey, Mom.”

Mom sniffed. “Hey, honey.” Her voice sounded smaller than ever, making my throat squeeze. “Your daddy is in the hospital.”

I sat up straighter in my seat, gripping the wheel. “Oh no. What happened?”

“He was sleeping a lot and had a fever and he wasn’t making a lot of sense. And then his eyes started turning yellow. So I called an ambulance. They said something about hepatitis?” She gave an emotional huff. “I don’t know why this happened.”

What did she expect? Of course this would happen sooner or later with the way he drank.

“What if he dies, Sarah?”

Would he die? I didn’t know a thing about hepatitis.