With a shrug, Breelee walked to the other end of the counter. As she waited, she tapped her manicured nails on the counter.
The second barista eyed her with what could only be described as venom-filled annoyance. “You. Wait over there.” She pointed Cyler to a table.
“My girl’s gonna need this too.” Kessed filled up a to-go tote with coffee, then picked out several blueberry muffins and one chocolate donut. “How many hours?” she asked as she glanced at the espresso machine.
“Of?” Cyler asked.
“Sleep,” Kessed replied with impatient sarcasm.
He held up his fingers in a big zero.
Kessed blew out a breath and twisted her lips. “You’re going to need more then.” She nodded then proceeded to set up another coffee tote.
“I didn’t realize that Starbucks catered,” Breelee remarked as she took off her lid and blew across the top of her just-delivered latte.
“Only occasionally,” Kessed called out. “We’re medicating the sleep deprived.” Kessed set all the stuff on the counter in front of Cyler. “Next time tell her to text me ahead of time. I’m totally out of Pike Place, so don’t let her pitch a hissy fit since she had to have Sumatra, okay? Tell her to stop being a little bitch and add some creamer or something if it’s too much for her.” Kessed’s face relaxed into a grin.
“Who?” Breelee walked over, her brown eyes sharply regarding Kessed.
“His girlfriend. You know, sexy little blond that practically bleeds coffee.” Kessed shook her head.
Cyler held his breath, hoping that maybe Breelee wouldn’t make the connection. The last thing Laken needed was to deal with her again.
“Nurse Nancy with the fake number? No shit.” Breelee’s gaze took on a wicked glint. “Nice to know, thanks, er, Kessed, is it?” She regarded the barista with a false warmth.
“What’s it to you?” Kessed dared her.
“Nothing, just…hmmm. That’s an interesting conflict of interest, isn’t it?” She slowly circled Cyler. “How did you meet her? I’m sure it was a pre-existing relationship, not one that started while—oh, never mind.” Breelee’s red lips stretched into a wide smile. “Your face says it all.”
“Leave her alone,” Cyler ground out, his fists clenching. He wasn’t one to hit a woman, but he was thinking of all the reasons he should make an exception.
“Listen.” Kessed stood in front of him, facing Breelee, giving him a moment to pause his knee-jerk reaction. “I think it’s time you left. And I wouldn’t mess with cowboy back there”—she nodded behind her—“but feel free to tangle with me. I’d love to see how you’d deal with someone your own size.”
Cyler rolled his eyes, taking Kessed by the shoulders and moving her to the side. “Breelee is too smart to deal with your kind of crazy. Right?” He tilted his chin to Breelee, looking for her agreement. He didn’t want to call Laken and tell her he was bailing her best friend out of jail.
Breelee gave a small shrug. “My coffee is getting cold. I’ll see you around, Cyler.” With a wink, she left.
“One swing. That’s all it would take.” Kessed narrowed her eyes.
“Easy, killer. Let’s not get tossed in jail, alright? Save some fun for tomorrow.”
“Ex of yours?” She turned and glared at him.
“Unfortunately,” Cyler admitted.
“You know how to pick ’em.” Kessed gave him a onceover before lifting the bag of baked treats and one coffee tote from the table. “Let’s go. I’ll help you take it out.”
“Thanks.” Cyler sighed, lifted the last tote and hurried ahead to open the door for Kessed.
As he drove back to the ranch, he held one hand over the coffee containers to make sure they didn’t topple forward at the few stop signs.
Keeping an eye out for Breelee’s car, he sighed in relief as he parked at the ranch and didn’t see it. He carried one tote to the kitchen, noticing that there was a half-eaten burrito on the counter. He grinned, thankful that at least he’d done something to help Laken, and in turn, help Jack.
After he brought everything in, he walked to Jack’s room and knocked softly.
“Come in,” Jack called, surprising him.
“Hey, old man,” Cyler replied as he opened the door. Swallowing his reaction, he kept his face at what he hoped looked impassive as he took in the oxygen tubes attached to Jack’s nose and the monitors all hooked up to screen his blood pressure, his heartbeat, and his oxygen levels.
“I told her to go to bed, but she wouldn’t listen. After I threatened to hold my breath if she didn’t sit down, she finally took a seat, and less than minute later, she fell asleep.” Jack lifted a hand and pointed to the other end of his room.
Laken was lying back against the armchair, her hands wrapped around her body as if chilled.
“I’m glad she finally gave up,” Cyler whispered, turning back to Jack.
“Me too. It kills me that I need her. It makes a man feel weak, Cyler. I hate every moment, yet I’m so damn grateful for her. She, she—” Jack coughed, but it was a weak sound, not the body-wracking fits that usually overtook him. “She doesn’t just talk me through it. She makes me believe I can make it to the next breath.”
“How are you doing now?” Cyler asked, not sure if he could do any good if Jack needed help.
“Better. But”—Jack took a shallow breath—“take a seat, son.”
Cyler nodded, glancing around and finally choosing to just sit on the edge of Jack’s bed. His eyes scanned the room that should be so familiar, yet wasn’t. So much equipment, the scent of medication, nothing about it reminded him of the room of his memories.
“I’m ready.” Jack spoke decisively, nodding once to emphasis his point.
Cyler instinctively knew what he was saying, but he revolted against it. “For?”
“The end, death, whatever you want to call it. Last night, I made my peace with God, and the other day I made my peace—for lack of a better word—with you, and damn it all, I’m just so tired, Cyler. So damn tired.” He closed his eyes, turning his head into his pillow, taking a few labored breaths. “Each breath, so hard. I never realized how easy breathing was….” His words faded as he pulled in another breath. “I’m ready. I just…I want to make sure you’re ready too.” Jack opened his eyes, regarding Cyler.
Breaking eye contact, Cyler glanced to his hands. “I’m not sure. It’s—it’s pretty final, Jack. And while you’re not my favorite person”—Cyler gave a small chuckle as he turned to Jack—“you’ve kinda grown on me.”
“Took you long enough,” Jack remarked, a chuckle turning into a cough.
“You made it a little difficult,” Cyler shot back without heat.
“Eh, details.” Jack made a dismissive but weak wave with his hand. “But, I want you to know that…when the time comes…I’m ready. And like I said yesterday, I’m sorry. Because…while most of my life I was an ass to you, I don’t want to finish that way. You deserve better than that. I’m only sorry I didn’t try to start sooner.” Jack’s gaze grew misty as his gaze bore into Cyler’s. “I have lot of regrets, but that’s the biggest one.”
Cyler glanced away, fighting every emotion that threatened to surface. “Yeah, well. We all have regrets.” Cyler fisted his hands. One of those regrets had made an appearance not even a half hour ago. It was easier to focus on the anger rather than face what his father was saying.
Wasn’t that always the case? Be angry, blame someone else, justify wrong feelings and hope for absolution, but what good did it do in the end?
None.
Because no one ever won.
But he was thankful that he’d at least given himself the chance to find some measure of healing with Jack. And as much as it sucked, if he had to say goodbye to Jack, then at least they made peace.
Cyler took a deep breath through his nose. “
You know, if we would have had this conversation a few weeks ago, it would have been a bit different.”
“We started to have this conversation a few weeks ago, and I ended up popping you in the nose, and you didn’t even have the sense to dent the coffee table. I always thought your head was harder than that. You’re surely stubborn enough.”
“Aw, just as our conversation was becoming so heartwarming.” Cyler chuckled.
“Yeah, well, I’m being honest. I’m not going to blow smoke up your ass.”
“I probably should be thankful.”
“Yup. You’re welcome.”
“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Hey, for one who has a hard time breathing, you’re sure talking a lot,” Cyler challenged.
“You bring out the best in me.”
“Touched, really. And now we’re back to being heartwarming.”
Jack shook his head, grinning as his gaze shifted to where Laken still slept.
“You going to marry her?”
Cyler furrowed his brow. “That came out of nowhere.”
“Not really. We’re talking about living without regrets. Not marrying her? Yeah, you’d regret that, I’m betting. So, have you thought about it?”
“Yeah, I’m marrying her. But you can’t say anything to her. She thinks I’m demanding enough.” Cyler slid a smile to his father.
“Ha! She thinks you’re demanding. I don’t think I’ve met a bossier woman.”
“I know. She doesn’t see it. It’s part of her charm.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, it is.” He shifted in his bed, changing his position a bit. “You have the ring yet?”
“How is that any of your business?” Cyler regarded his father with a narrowed gaze.
“It’s not. But I’m asking, regardless. You should expect this by now.”
“You have a point.” Cyler rubbed the back of his neck, debating on how much to tell. “I had mom’s ring reworked. But I…I don’t know if I want to give it to her. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a symbol of a great marriage,” Cyler confessed. He glanced to Jack, who was regarding him.
“You’re right, but my legacy isn’t yours, son. You’re not me.”
“Damn straight, I’m not.” Cyler couldn’t help saying it.
“And you’re going to write your own story. That ring? It doesn’t determine your future. You do. If you want to give it to her, do it. It’s the symbol of it all. It’s a ring, never-ending. Do me a favor and redeem it for me.” Jack leaned back in his pillow, his gaze shifting away as the moisture built before spilling down in a lonely tear.
Cyler swallowed. He’d never seen Jack cry before.
Hell, he wasn’t sure he even knew how.
“Stop looking at me like I’ve committed a crime. Real men feel things,” Jack grumbled.
Cyler cleared his throat and cast his gaze away, giving Jack a moment to collect himself.
“Can I ask one thing?” Jack inquired, and Cyler turned back to him.
“Probably,” Cyler replied, slightly suspicious. Old habits die hard.
“Do it before I kick the bucket. I want to see her be settled, happy, know that you’re not going anywhere.”
Cyler grinned, shaking his head. “Why do I get the feeling that you like her more than you like me?”
“Because that’s the damn truth. I put up with you, but I love that girl.” Jack jerked his chin toward Laken.
“Nice to know where I rank.”
“Behind Margaret.”
“I would be behind the horse. Some things never change.”
“I made peace. I didn’t become a different person.” Jack arched a brow with a grin.
“Fair enough.”
Cyler took a deep breath, relaxing even with the heavy emotional atmosphere of the room.
After a few moments of peaceful silence, Cyler turned to Jack. “You hungry?”
“A little. I could really go for some coffee though. Damn, I want a donut now.”
Cyler chuckled. “Coffee and a donut. You’re not demanding at all. Let me see what I can do, old man.”
“I believe in you.”
“Yeah, you’re cut off from the pain meds. I think you’re starting to get high.”
“Nah, I know what high feels like. I lived through the sixties, son.” Jack chuckled softly.
“And that’s my cue to leave.” Cyler lifted a hand in defense.
“Your mother did too, mind you.”
“Don’t want to know!” Cyler whisper-shouted as he started down the hall.
Jack’s soft laughter followed him, making him grin in spite of himself.
Crazy old man.
When Cyler reached the kitchen, he sifted through the snacks that Kessed had packed and found one old-fashioned donut. After pouring a cup of Jack’s sludge masquerading as coffee, he took the paper sack and mug down the hall.
“You should have woken me up!” Laken’s raspy voice carried down the hall.
He grinned, anticipating her sleepy gaze, a soft smile on her face.
As he opened the door, Jack struggled to sit up, and Laken helped.
“Donut?” the old man asked with a pitifully hopeful expression.
“Maybe,” Cyler teased, handing over the bag.
Jack opened the paper sack and grinned widely, pulling out the frosted treat.
“Really. A donut.” Laken tilted her head, scolding.
“Let a dying man have his junk food,” Jack replied before taking a bite.
“Here’s your coffee.” Cyler handed it over, shaking his head as Jack ate the donut with reckless abandon.
“Apparently, I need to feed you more often,” Laken remarked, a delicate smile spreading across her features. Her lips were slightly swollen from sleeping, her expressive eyes slightly glassy from her short nap.
“I take back everything bad I ever said about Starbucks,” Jack remarked as he finished the old-fashioned.
“Whoa. That must have been some donut,” Laken teased.
“It was life-changing,” Jack said, lifting his mug of coffee to his lips.
“Donuts usually are.” Cyler nodded.
Laken yawned, and Cyler held out a hand to her. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
“By fort…he means me,” Jack said between sips of coffee.
Cyler grasped Laken’s hand and tugged her toward the door. “You need to sleep.”
“But Jack—”
“Will need you to be on your game. Not a sleep-deprived zombie,” Cyler finished.
“True story,” Jack called from his room as Cyler and Laken made their way down the hall.
“Drink your coffee, old man,” Cyler shot over his shoulder to Jack, earning a middle-finger salute.
“He’s feeling good. You need to take advantage of it and get some rest. I’ll wake you if he needs something that I can’t handle, okay?” Cyler led her to their room. “Sleep.”
“Fine, but you need to wake me in an hour.” She grumbled, already half asleep as she all but fell into the bed.
“Is there a specific reason? Will he need more medication?” Cyler asked as he pulled the blanket over her curled up frame.
“No, I just—I’ll check his vitals.”
“Alright, you rest.” Cyler backed from the room, the soft sound of her breath signaling her quick drift toward sleep.
He paused by the door, simply watching as her shoulders shifted with her breathing, thankful that he could take care of her. She needed that, more than she realized.
His gaze strayed to his bag draped over a chair in the corner. Silently, he strode over to it and pulled out the royal-blue box tucked carefully in the outside pocket. With a tug, the top slid off the box and inside nestled his mother’s ri
ng. It was a Black Hills gold band, almost the rose-gold color that was so popular currently. An emerald-cut diamond was mounted between two smaller versions of itself, reflecting every speck of light in the room since the jeweler had cleaned and adjusted the tines on the setting. He wasn’t sure how he was going to propose, but intuition said he needed to act soon.
He had one more day before he’d usually head back to the Yakima Valley for work.
An idea started to form, and a grin stretched across his face at the thought. With a glance at Laken’s sleeping form, he made up his mind.
Good thing she was sleeping now.
Life was going to get a little more interesting.
Chapter 20
Laken rolled over, stretching. The sweet fog of sleep was swept away as she shot up in bed, glancing to the old analog clock beside the bed. “Of course he didn’t wake me up. Gah!” She tossed the covers back and yanked her ponytail band from her hair then quickly wrapped it up in a messy bun. Three hours!
Softly, she padded down the hall, just in case Jack was asleep. She carefully peeked into the room, frowning as both Cyler and Jack grinned at her.
“Hey there, sleeping beauty.” Jack nodded, setting down a hand of cards. “Read ’em and weep.” He coughed then cackled as Cyler groaned, tossing his cards on the bed. “Poor kid can’t win for losin’.” Jack jabbed a thumb in his son’s direction.
Cyler’s answer was a glower.
“What are you playing?” Laken asked as she picked up her iPad and started taking notes from the monitor’s readings.
“Five card draw. He wanted to play for money, but I said whatever I had was going to him anyway. Took the fun out of it. So, we’re playing for bragging rights. I can use those.”
“He’s using them already.” Cyler gave a frustrated grin to Laken as she finished up her notes.
“It’s the gift that keeps on giving,” Laken teased. “I’d rather play for bragging rights than money any day. You can spend money, but bragging rights? You can use those for years.” Laken’s smile faltered as she considered how Jack didn’t have years. Weeks maybe, if they were lucky.
“Stop moping. Cyler says he’s fine with me dying. You should be too!” Jack gave a grin.
Heart of a Cowboy Page 19
