Page 9 of Every Single Vow
“No problem. Do what you got to do.” He sips his coffee.
“Thanks, Clyde. I’ll have my phone on me.”
He salutes me before I leave the barn, making my way back to my cabin. A few guys are already at work on the farmhouse.
“Hey, Tom.” I lift a hand to the contractor that’s measuring a cabinet.
“Morning, Cooper.” He tucks the tape measure back into his tool belt. “Making progress.”
“Looking good. Got an end date?” I ask, resting my hands in my pockets as I approach.
“Hopefully one more month. I have instructions by Emmett to make sure your mama can cook Thanksgiving dinner in her new kitchen.”
I chuckle. “That would make her entire year.”
Ruthie Mayson was big on family. Thanksgiving was one of her favorite holidays and don’t even get me started on Christmas.
“Come by later today. I should have the kitchen cabinets installed.”
“Perfect.” I reach a hand out. “We appreciate you, man.”
Turning on my heel, I head for the house, Dale hobbling by my side.
I have a feeling things are about to get crazy. And I’m here for it.
Chapter six
Dakota
I watch as Arizona practically inhales three waffles.
“Want some juice?” I offer.
“Yes. Thank you.” She clears her throat, before placing her fork on her empty plate.
I pour her a glass and try to figure out how to start this awkward conversation.
“So, um…you and Bea…I mean mom,” I correct. This is harder than I expected. “Where have y’all been living? New Orleans?”
She drinks half of the juice before shrugging. “We’d been in New Orleans for about five years. Before that we were in Houston.”
“Where did you live?” I ask before taking her empty plate to the sink.
“When she died, we’d been staying with her friend. I didn’t care for Craig. He looked at me funny.”
My chest squeezes, pain lacing my bones. I knew what that meant. She didn’t even have to say it.
“That’s why you came here? You didn’t want to stay with her friend?”
“No. He was gross.” She finishes off the juice. “Mom had plenty of friends. That’s who we usually stayed with. She wasn’t one who liked to hold a job or do anything remotely responsible.”
I blink, shocked at how mature she is for twelve years old. But I understand it. When you raise yourself, you don’t have a choice. Maturity is unavoidable. I know exactly what that’s like. To have your childhood robbed because your caretaker can’t act like a real parent.
“Have you…” I shift on my feet. “Have you always been with her?”
I’m shocked the school she attended never questioned anything.
“I had to go stay with a foster family once for a few weeks.” She glances at me. “Let’s just say staying with Creepy Craig would have been the better option.”
