Page 44 of Break the Barrier

Well, I guess nature got me into this mess, considering it spooked my horse and made me fall off—which was embarrassing enough without having to be doted on.

And…Thea only answered my text yesterday minimally.

I’d sent it apologizing for making her go through all the crap I put her through, and her response had been,

It’s all good. Hope you’re feeling better!

Not as affectionate as I’d like, given that the woman saw me pass out because I saw a needle, at least according to her recap to my mother.

Nothing quite as emasculating as passing out in front of the woman you are into.

I have this vague memory of telling her things I definitely should not have as well. Like how I’ve been into her for the last few years and kissing her has been the highlight of all of that.

I hoped that was a dream and not something I had actually said out loud.

“Oh shit, Mom can’t get Lue.”

Fucking amazing. “Okay, let’s go get her.”

I’m already up and going before my brother can say a word,because if I don’t get out of this house soon, I won’t be the only Cash brother who ends up hurt.

Bottle Grounds was surprisingly quiet this Friday night, but considering I was recovering from a head-splitting concussion, I was grateful for that.

I talked Stetson into coming out tonight, and because Mom was busy, Lue was with us to get “family dinner.”

I have more motivation in being here tonight than just getting dinner, but either Stetson didn’t have a death wish anymore, or he was finally getting the hint that I didn’t need him to be all over me all the time and gave me an out I desperately needed by keeping his mouth shut.

Even Lue probably knew why I wanted to come here tonight, but she was just happy to be tagging along.

“I’m getting a double burger,” Lue announces, and I blink at her in surprise.

“A double? Are you sure you need that much food?” Stetson asks, looking at her in thesame manner that I was.

She turns to him with a look that could kill, and I bite back the smile threatening to overtake my face. “I have rigorous rehearsals coming up, Uncle Stetson. I need the extra calories.”

His hands go up, and one of the waitresses comes by our table. I look around her, wondering if the Weaver sisters ever waited on tables and hoping it would be my lucky night.

I’ve never really seen Thea out from behind the bar much, other than to greet guests and sometimes play hostess, but I wonder if she knew I was here if she would come and give me special treatment.

We place our order, and Lue fills Stetson in on her schedule. According to it, we have a full summer of rehearsals to go, with a play that will be put on at the end of August.

She was thrilled to be a part of the local theater, as she said, even though it was the same drama teacher as she had at her school.

But technically speaking, this was for any actors in town to participate in, not just the middle school.

Because this town was the size of my thumb, actors who would be playing in it were few and far between, aside from extras, so the middle and high school kids took on the major roles.

Our food arrives, and I carefully dig in, trying not to hit my arm on the table or the plate. Thankfully, the wound didn’t really hurt so much, and I was down to a dull pain every now and then that was easily manageable. It was my head that was hurting and why I had to have a chaperone at all times in case something goes wrong.

Stetson and I watch in fascination as my daughter takes down a double burger, fries, and her pickle without barely breathing. She looks up and finds us both paused in our quest to finish dinner, both sets of eyes on her.

She wipes her mouth and shrugs. “What? I was raised by boys.”

I frown at her. “Where did you even hear that phrase?”

“Around school. Because I don’t have a mom and was raised by boys, I don’t know how to act like a lady, therefore, I don’t.”

My mind races with what these middle school punks are filling my daughter’s head with. “You can act like a lady even though you didn’t have a mom. You have Grandma and Aunt Sandra and Dani.”