Page 7 of Every Single Vow
“First you need to confirm what she said about your mom. You can call the coroner’s office in New Orleans, or I’m sure find records online.”
That would be the easy part. But what about after? Where does she go? Who takes care of her? There’s not a chance in hell I’m equipped for this kind of responsibility, right? I can’t even keep up with a set of keys much less a human.
“Ok.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off a slight headache. The tequila from last night was wreaking havoc on my body today. “Thanks for letting us stay. I’ll take her to the trailer today.”
My current living situation may seem flighty to some, but residing in the living quarters of my horse trailer gave me the freedom to travel and to save money. Cooper never liked it, which is how I ended up parking it at the Mayson Ranch as its home base.
“I don’t like it,” he says.
“She’s my sister. Not your problem.”
“Well consideringyou’vebeen my problem since we were ten years old, that makeshermy problem via blood relation.”
I lift a brow. “I’m your problem?”
“Every fucking day,” he mumbles.
I flip him off, but he just snatches my hand, tugging me in for a hug that I pretend I can’t stand.
“I hate you sometimes,” I hiss as I push at his chest.
He chuckles. “Lies. You love me.”
More than anything.
“Dream on,” I scoff.
A throat clears and I jerk at the sound behind me. Arizona stands in her clothes from last night, her eyebrows lifted with amusement.
“Morning.” Cooper pushes to his feet. “Hungry?”
“Sure.” She shrugs a shoulder casually, but I can hear her stomach growl from here.
“Get whatever you want. Plates are there.” Cooper waves a hand. “Forks are in the drawer by the fridge.”
Her eyes cut to mine but then move to the spread on the island. I’m watching her approach with the timidness of a deer when a light touch lands on my shoulder.
Cooper nods in the direction of the porch, so I follow after telling Arizona I’ll just be a second.
When I close the door behind me, he drops his cowboy hat on his head.
“Let me run out to the barn. Make sure everything is sorted. You know Sundays are chill. When I get done, we can make those calls.”
I nod, the heavy weight settling in.
My mom is dead.
I have a sister.
“You don’t have to rearrange your day for me. I can handle it,” I tell him.
He ignores my comment per usual, then leans in and presses his lips to my temple. Like he does every time he leaves me. “Keeping my word, Kota.”
I watch his form travel down the stairs, across the gravel, and into the horse barn.
Keeping his word.
He always has.
