Page 143 of We Drank the Dawn

Cooper

For a few minutes, I wished the Sheriff would’ve come for me.

Because watching Peter fall into a thousand pieces tore something open in my chest. I hadn’t meant to move down the porch and watch uninvited, witnessing what was probably one of the darkest moments of his life, but as soon as Bea said Sheriff, morbid curiosity got the best of me.

Maybe I was bad friend for snooping, but I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the unfolding scene.

The words “divorce papers” were barely out of the Sheriff’s mouth before Peter crumbled to the gravel, Bea rushing up to slide her arms around his shoulders from behind. He’d taken a crouched position, his fingers shoving deep into the roots of his hair, tugging at them as his shoulders heaved with distress.

The Sheriff stood there in awkward silence, waiting.

My feet pushed me forward until I could hear Peter murmuring over and over, “There’s a mistake. There’s got to be a mistake.”

“There’s no mistake, son.” The Sheriff helplessly glanced up at Tag, who stood beside me. “If you’re Peter Thompson then these are for you. I’m gonna need you to sign this paper to confirm that I delivered it.”

Peter didn’t move.

“I, uh, I can’t leave until you do.” He shifted in discomfort, clearly not enjoying this part of his job description.

Bea rubbed Peter’s back, whispering something to him.

And slowly, Peter stood up and reached out for the document and held out his hand until the Sheriff put a pen in it. His voice was husky and raw with anguish. “Does my signature finalize anything? Or does it just confirm I received it?”

“Just confirms.” He narrowed his eyes at Peter, his eyes darting to the cane, and I recognized the moment he put two and two together. His eyes widened with understanding, his expression softening with something that looked a little like pity.

Which pissed me off.

Peter asked, “Where do I sign?”

The Sheriff showed him the spot and Peter flicked his name across the page. He said a few more things to Peter, but Tag blocked my view, lifting a hand to clap me on the shoulder. “Best to give him some space.”

He stepped around me to return to the picnic table, and even though I figured Tag was right, something in my chest made it hard to breathe. I regretted the stuff I said to Peter about Sarah those weeks ago—all that crap about hoping another man would give her a good time. Why did I say that?

Questions swirled in my head. What had brought Sarah to this point? I remembered the trail ride we took together, and even though I recalled pieces of our conversation, nothing she said foreshadowed an ending like this.

What woman was worth this? The last few weeks, I’d watched Peter work his ass off, honestly putting in the effort to improve himself. Only to get kicked to the curb when he could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel?

As the Sheriff pulled down the driveway, Peter turned to Bea, burying his face in the top of her shoulder, a wave of grief quaking his body. Anger pooled in my chest for my friend—he didn’t deserve this. I knew for a fact that Peter sat on the barrel in the barn every night, pouring his heart out to her even though she blocked his phone number.

If she just called him, she’d hear how hard he was trying.

Was he not worth that?

Man, I wished my memory wasn’t as sharp as it was, because the moment that question flitted across my raging brain, all my demons broke free. I knew that pain—way more than I wanted to. Knew how much it hurt to work and work and work for nothing.

I wanted to give Sarah a piece of my mind.

Mentally, I added the pain of divorce to my running list of reasons to never get involved with a woman. In the quiet room at my rehab center, I resolved to never give someone that much power over me ever again.

Because no one stays.

At the end of the day, it’s every man for himself. And that was just the way of things. As commonplace as the sun and moon rising and falling in the sky.

And the sooner we all learned it, the better.

***

I stared at the book hovering in the air over my head, but my brain wouldn’t absorb the words. For reasons I couldn’t explain, what happened at dinner greatly disturbed me. And I couldn’t shake it from my mind—how easily a strong marriage could dissolve. How one little accident could break people apart.