Cowboy Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

“Maybe we could talk over lunch?” I asked, feeling desperation surge inside of me. If he refused to talk to me about this, there was no way I'd be able to make a decision.

  Eric studied my face for a long moment. “Why don't we grab a picnic lunch and drive up to the lake, where we won't be disturbed?” he suggested. “I'll cancel my afternoon appointments.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “You head to the grocery store and grab provisions,” Eric instructed. “I'll reschedule my appointments. I should be ready to go by the time you get back.”

  I nodded, glad to have something to do, and scurried out of the doctor's office and over to the general store.

  Our drive up to the lake was silent. I wanted to talk, but I wasn't sure what to say. Talking about Mom's medical situation while Eric was driving didn't seem like the best idea. But the comfortable camaraderie that we once had seemed to have vanished, replaced by a terse and awkward silence that persisted until we had finished our food.

  We were sitting on the hood of his car, enjoying the warm, late spring weather and the view of the lake. It could have been romantic, but romance was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment. Instead, my thoughts were consumed with the fight that we'd had and with thoughts of my mother's declining health.

  “I presume you talked to Dr. Halsey,” Eric said finally.

  I nodded, glad to have that opening. “I did,” I said. I sighed. “He told me the same thing that you did: that the only two options are to either try to remove the tumors surgically or else to accept that she's going to pass very soon.” I paused. “I don't know how to decide for her, though. But it's not like she's in the right state of mind to make the decision herself.”

  Eric hummed a response, but he didn't say anything. I barreled on.

  “I think I want to try the surgery, but I feel selfish for thinking that,” I admitted. “Mom was so adamant that she didn't want to go through with chemotherapy and the rest of it, and I feel like I'm going against her wishes if I drag her through those treatment options. What if she manages to make it through the surgery and hates me for it? But I thought, maybe if I knew more about the surgery, that would help me make my decision.”

  “And you couldn't talk about this with Halsey?” Eric asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

  I swallowed hard, glancing away, toward the lake. “He didn't know her,” I said.

  “Doesn't know her,” Eric corrected, something twisting in his face. “She's still alive, albeit hospitalized.”

  “Right,” I said softly. “He doesn't know her. I can't rely on him to help me choose what's best for her if he has no idea what she might want.” I gave a brittle laugh. “I know that sounds stupid and probably doesn't make much sense.”

  Eric was quiet for a long moment. “Don't forget that I lost a loved one before,” he finally said. “I've had to make similar decisions.”

  I didn't know what to say in response to that. I knew that he must be thinking about his wife, and I realized I still didn't know what had happened to her. But now wasn't the time to pry, not when our relationship was already so strained.

  “Your mother could never hate you. She’s your mother,” Eric said quietly.

  I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes, but Eric wasn't finished.

  “Here's what I can tell you about the medical treatment. If the tumors can be removed, her breathing should improve, and then the radiation therapy could help push back the cancer. It's not a permanent solution, by which I mean that it's basically impossible that we would be able to eradicate the cancer entirely. However, it would give her more time with you and more time to sort out her affairs.”

  “Sort out her affairs,” I echoed bitterly.

  Eric grimaced. “I know that you don't want to be thinking about wills and final resting wishes, but that's the stage that we're at,” he said gently. “I know you already have power of attorney for her; she mentioned she had done that so that you receive legal documents regarding her house while you were living in Chicago and she was moving to Tamlin.”

  I nodded. “That's why this is my decision now,” I told him. I shook my head. “I never would have signed that paper if I'd known that it would be used for this.” I should have looked more into it instead of blinding assuming I understood what the Power of Attorney could or would allow.

  “Better that you signed that paper than leaving her with no choice at all,” Eric said softly.

  I considered that for a moment and then sighed. “What do you think would be the better choice?” I asked.

  Eric stared at me for a long moment, but I continued looking at the water, unable to face the pity in his eyes. “I would take the risk,” he finally said. “I would try the medical treatment. And I'm not just saying that as a doctor; I'm saying that as someone who knows your mother. The two of you are close; I know that. I would take the risk, because on the chance that it's successful, she'll have a little more time with you, and I think that's what she would really want.”

  “What about her quality of life during the treatment, though?” I asked. “That's what she was worried about with the chemo to begin with. She said that she'd read all these stories about how chemo gives a person a shitty quality of life, and she wasn't interested in that for herself.”

  Eric paused. “It will likely be painful and uncomfortable for her during the treatment,” he admitted. “But isn't that pain and discomfort worth it, if it means the chance for a longer life and more time with her loved ones?”

  I wasn't sure, but then I thought about the baby that was growing inside of me. If it just came down to her having more time to spend with me, I wasn't sure that it was what she would have wanted, not if it meant that she was in pain the whole time. But she had always wanted to have grandchildren, and if prolonging her life, despite the pain, meant that she would get to meet her unborn grandson or granddaughter, I had to think that maybe it was worth it.

  I swallowed hard, knowing that there wasn't really a decision to be made when I thought of it that way.

  I wanted to ask Eric more questions, to ask what he would have done if he were in my shoes if it was his own mother that was in this predicament. I still wanted to ask about his wife, about how he'd lost her and about what decisions he'd had to make for her welfare. To find out how similar those decisions really were to what I was facing.

  I wanted to reach out and take his hand, or even better: to fold myself into his arms and cling to him. I was in need of a good cry still; the one that I'd had the other day, on my own in the hospital room, hadn't helped me.

  But things were too strained between Eric and me. There was a wall between us now, dividing us. A giant elephant in the room: the fight that we'd had the other day, which apparently neither of us was ready to apologize for. And a secret as well.

  I rested a hand against my stomach for a brief moment and then retracted it, hoping that he hadn't seen and that he hadn't guessed what the subconscious train of thought was that had led to that motion. I needed to tell him about the baby, but now didn't seem like the right time.

  Actually, there were two secrets between us, but the other secret, I wasn't fully ready to admit even to myself. The more I talked to him like this, the more I realized how much I trusted him and how much I valued his opinion. The more I realized that I wanted more with him. The more I realized that I loved him.

  The thought was sobering, especially in light of the fight that we'd had. I couldn't even admit to him the level of feelings that I had. And there were so many more important things for me to think about at the moment.

  I swallowed hard and picked at the remainder of my lunch. Finally, he got the hint, realizing that I wasn't going to say more, and he drove me home.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Eric

  The drive that Olivia and I had taken to the lake had nearly depleted my fuel tank, so Thursday night, I stopped off at the gas station on the way home. The town was small enough that even with my inpatient appointment
s, I probably only had to fill the thing a few times a month. I spared a moment, thinking how lucky I was to work a job that I loved in a town that had everything I needed.

  I couldn't stop thinking about the discussion that Olivia and I had had by the lake. Neither of us had mentioned the fight in the hospital, but I wondered if that had helped get Olivia thinking about her mother's health the way that she needed to be. Our conversation at the lake had definitely seemed more constructive, and I had a feeling that Olivia was leaning toward having her mom get the treatment that she needed, whether Jeannie wanted it or not.

  And that was a definite relief.

  As the tank was nearly full, a familiar pickup truck pulled in next to the pump across from mine. The truck was older but well-maintained, with hardly a hint of rust around the edges. I tried to place the vehicle and groaned as I saw who was behind the wheel: Buck Johanssen. Of course.

  I knew that I would run into the man eventually, somewhere in town. There was only the one gas station and only the one general store. Or I might have run into him at the diner one of the days that I popped in for lunch. I supposed I was just lucky that Emma wasn't with me at the moment, in case we had words.

  My hand clenched reflexively around my gas pump, and I almost wanted to confront him. I wasn't the fighting kind of guy, but with Georgia's words resonating through my head, I couldn't help feeling pissed at the man. I wanted to have more than words with him.

  To be fair, I doubted he knew that Olivia and I were doing whatever it was that we were doing. Sure, Georgia suspected, and she had told Ernie about my car being parked in Olivia's driveway that one evening. But we had been careful ever since.

  Still, my jealousy refused to listen to my rationality. I wanted to pound the guy, to make sure that he knew the claim that I had on the woman. But I also knew that Olivia wouldn't appreciate such a brutish display of affection. In a small town like Tamlin, there was no way to avoid drama if you did something like that.

  I shook my head and finished filling the tank, heading inside so that I could pay. Buck was in there ahead of me, paying for 10 dollars’ worth of gas and chatting with the cashier.

  “What's new? Hmm,” Buck said, pretending to think about it. From the smirk on his face, though, I could tell that he knew exactly what he was going to say. “Spent a great night with Olivia Sable.”

  Gary raised his eyebrows at that statement. “You did?” he asked, sounding impressed. “She's pretty hot. Nice tits.” Gary was the kind of guy who never really pulled anyone but definitely liked to talk lewdly about the women of the town. I wasn't sure who I was more disgusted with: Buck or Gary.

  “She is pretty smokin',” Buck agreed. He shrugged nonchalantly. “I'd seen her around her mom's place a few times, and she always seemed interested. We went to this wedding together, and you should have seen the dress that she wore. I could hardly keep my hands off her all day. That night, we decided to get a hotel room together. One thing led to another.” He grinned. “She's good in bed, too. So sexy, with that long hair and this little butterfly tattoo on the small of her back. Sure knows how to ride a man hard, too.”

  My hands tightened into fists, hearing him talk about Olivia like that. What was he trying to do? Make it so that the whole town knew every detail of their fuck? Did he really think Olivia would appreciate that? But Buck wasn't finished, it seemed.

  “That ass of hers, too,” he continued. “Feels just as good as it looks. She let me pound into her from behind the second time, and God.” He gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Tightest little pussy that you could imagine. Can tell she doesn't get around much.”

  I scowled: except that she seemed to be working her way through every man in the town.

  “Sounds like a good night, if she let you go for round two,” Gary said, grinning lewdly. “You gonna tap that ass again?”

  Buck laughed. “We went for more than two rounds,” he bragged. “By the time we were done, we were both raw. Otherwise, we wouldn't have stopped!”

  I scowled, deciding that this had gone on for long enough. “Would you mind?” I cut in. “I'm trying to pay.”

  “Oh!” Buck said, giving me a sharp grin. “I didn't realize there was anyone else in here.”

  I could tell from his look that that wasn't the case; he knew full well that I was standing behind him the whole time. I had to wonder, then, if he had launched into that speech for my benefit, knowing that it would make me jealous. Maybe he did know about Olivia and me. Maybe he just didn't care, or maybe he thought that he'd won.

  Again, the urge to punch him flared hot in my veins. And again, I checked myself, even though at least this time, I could say that he deserved a good punch, for talking about her in such crude words, where anyone in town could overhear.

  But it wasn't just that I wanted to defend Olivia's honor. I was starting to realize that Olivia had lied to me. She'd told me that they'd stayed in a hotel but that they'd had separate rooms. She'd told me that they hadn't slept together. Even if Buck was lying, for some reason, and they hadn't shared a room at the hotel, it was clear, from Buck's account, that they had slept together. How else would he have known about her tattoo? She wasn't the kind of girl to walk around wearing crop tops, especially not since it wasn't quite summertime. He wouldn't have seen it in any other way than if he'd had her stripped down naked on a bed. Or maybe I was overreacting. There were other ways he could have seen it, but I was headed down a dark path mentally and couldn’t seem to pull myself back out.

  I paid for my gas and then headed out to my car, moving in a daze. I wanted to go over to Olivia's place and confront her. Ask her why she had lied to me. Let her know that this thing between us was over because I wasn't going to sleep with someone who was sleeping with someone else. Having something casual was one thing, but sleeping around was a whole different story, especially when it involved lying after the fact.

  But I remembered how well it had gone the last time I'd confronted Olivia about something, at the hospital. I doubted this conversation would go any better. I was finding it hard enough to stay calm and rational when she wasn't in front of me, lying to my face. My anger would only escalate if I went over there.

  The truth was, I was hurt that she had lied to me and that she apparently treated our thing as so meaningless. I had told her that this was the first time I'd slept with someone since Emily; hadn't she realized that that meant something to me? That she meant something to me? Sure, we hadn't been in a relationship, and there had been no labels or definitions. But come on: actions spoke louder than words.

  Anyway, I didn't understand why she had felt the need to go to Buck. Our sex had been good, and I'd been very careful about giving her everything that she needed in bed. Or so I had thought. Apparently, I hadn't been enough to satisfy her, though.

  I drove aimlessly around the town for a few minutes, knowing that if I went home, I was just going to stew. Finally, I decided to drive up to the lake where Olivia and I had had lunch. Maybe I would get a little clarity if I got some fresh air.

  I sat on the hood, staring out over the water, thinking things through. Emma was asleep in her car seat. I kept the windows down and an eye on her.

  I had to assume that Buck was telling the truth. Or maybe I didn’t. People lied all the time, right? No. There would be no reason for him to lie about it, and it was the only logical explanation for why he knew about Olivia's tattoo, as well as how he knew that she and I had slept together. Something wasn’t right.

  But if Buck was telling the truth, that was the end of my pseudo-relationship with Olivia. There was no way I could continue to date her (not that we had ever really been dating) if she wanted to sleep around. And to be honest, I didn't even want to give her a chance to explain herself. I assumed she would only lie about it again, just like she had before, and I didn't want to hear it.

  Even if she somehow managed to come up with some reasonable explanation for why she had slept with him (they'd been at a wedding with an open bar
; maybe she'd gotten really drunk?), I would never be able to trust her again. It was hard to have a relationship if you couldn't trust the other person.

  My thoughts turned to Emily, because when I thought about people that I would trust with my life, she was always the first person who came to my mind. She had been truthful almost to a fault, but I'd always appreciated that about her.

  Interestingly enough, when I thought about Emily now, I realized that the ache that I had felt at losing her had diminished somewhat. In contrast, the ache that I felt over losing Olivia had magnified.

  It came to me, suddenly, that my feelings for Olivia were very similar to my feelings for Emily. I stared out over the water, thinking hard. Surely I couldn't love Olivia, not when we'd only been on a couple of dates. Sure, I thought she was interesting and funny, and she was insanely sexy. But love?

  I knew it was true, though, the more I thought about it. And that made losing her even more difficult.

  I swallowed hard and shook my head, knowing there was nothing that I could do about it. I had had my chance with her, and it hadn't worked out. Maybe if I'd just gone to the wedding, like I'd promised to do. Maybe if her mother had been healthy, and we hadn't had to bicker as much.

  But those thoughts wouldn't lead to anywhere good, and I knew that. There was no choice but for me to let her go.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Olivia

  By Friday, Mom was finally feeling well enough that she could go home. I was worried sick about her being at home, especially at home alone, but I knew the hospital probably needed the space for someone else, and anyway, there was nothing they could do for her. At least it meant the weight of deciding on the surgery was off my shoulders again.

  I wanted to hire someone to do inpatient care, but I wasn't sure how to go about doing that, and I couldn't ask Eric about it. I would have asked Dr. Halsey about it, but I didn't know how I was going to convince my mother that she needed to have someone there with her, just in case. Since Dr. Halsey still didn't know Mom all that well, I didn't think that he was the best person to turn to for advice.