Page 10 of Truly (Peachwood Falls #2)

L uke

“Hey, Troy, it’s Luke. I’m pulling out of the driveway.”

I take a left onto the gravel road in front of my house, my gaze lingering on my house through the trees.

“I see you,” Troy says from his SUV backed into the woods. “Are you expecting anyone to come by today?”

“The only person who might swing by, although I don’t expect him to, is my brother Gavin. Chase, one of my other brothers, is working out of town, and my parents are probably at church. Since Chase is gone, they’ll go to lunch with their friends, I bet.”

“Gavin drove the black truck last night, correct?”

“Yes. Oh. She’s trying to get her stuff here from Stephanie. I don’t know what that will entail.”

“All right,” Troy says. “I’m in communication with Stephanie, so that’ll be fine. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Not a problem.”

The line goes dead.

I turn away from the highway and take the back roads to Cotton’s.

I don’t love the idea of leaving Laina at home with Troy lurking in the shadows. As a matter of fact, when he and I came face-to-face this morning by the barn, I almost didn’t love it so much that I nearly punched him.

Although, he’s one hard motherfucker. I’d rather not tangle with him if I don’t have to.

It took him a solid hour to convince me he was part of Laina’s security team.

He went as far as to have me call a number I found for her agent where a woman named Anjelica confirmed that Troy was legit.

Troy and I worked out a way to keep Laina safe while she’s here—and he agreed that her being at my house was the best spot for her right now.

No one knows she’s here.

Troy is the only reason I’m giving Laina a bit of space today. I know he’s there to protect her.

The farther I get away from home, the more I just want to go back.

Something must be wrong with me if Laina is there and I’m choosing to go to work.

How many times have I wished for this very scenario?

What have I tried to barter with God to get her back?

Now I have her, if only for a limited time, and I’m driving away.

“You have to,” I tell myself.

Even if years have passed and Laina isn’t the same girl I fell in love with, I still like her. A lot. My heart still knows her. And I can only imagine that the more time we spend together, the harder it will be when she goes.

Holding her in my arms yesterday is now a core memory. If I let my guard completely down— no .

I can’t let my guard down. I can’t keep her. I know that from experience.

She’s not mine to keep.

Letting her go comes with the territory. And that part sucks.

I cross Peachwood Creek and pull into Cotton’s farm. He waves at me as he climbs out of his truck. I pull up to the stable and turn the engine off.

“I was wondering if you were coming today,” he says, shutting the door.

“Sorry.” I hop out of the truck. “Got a bit of a late start.”

“It’s not a problem. I got a bit of a late start today myself. The wife had me hauling stuff from the basement to the trash. Ain’t a day goes by that she doesn’t have a honey-do list waiting for me in the morning.”

“Could be worse,” I say, getting my things in order.

“Yeah, I reckon it could. I could be like that sorry son of a bitch who got left standing with his tail between his legs.”

My insides twist. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know that bullshit wedding they had going on in Brickfield. Brought half of California with ’em.

I ain’t been able to get a damn thing done over there in a week.

But now it’s over, and we can go back to normal.

” He takes a bag of tobacco out of the front pocket of his overalls. “Surely, you heard about that mess.”

I heard about it all right .

My jaw sets, and I head toward the stalls my grandfather worked in as a farrier and his father before him. The nostalgia I usually enjoy here is overrun with Cotton’s gossip.

“Do you mind if I do Moe first?” I ask.

“That’s fine.” He spits in the dirt. “You oughta take a lesson from this fiasco.”

I give Moe a scratch before leading her to the clean, dry spot Cotton prepared for us. He stands in the doorway instead of returning to the house like usual . Great. Just my luck.

“What kind of a lesson?” I ask, getting the horse and myself situated.

“Well, you’re still young and ain’t got married yet. Take a look at how that panned out.”

I grimace and get to work, running my hand down Moe’s leg. She picks up her foot. I start removing her old shoe.

“I’m good,” I say a little louder than necessary. “There’s no wedding on the horizon for me.”

“Ah, it’s more than that, kid. It’s how you pick a wife or a companion if ya ain’t getting married. You gotta be smart about it. Find someone tough. The world is a nasty place these days. You better find you a woman who can stand by you through it all.”

My heart pumps at Cotton’s insinuations—that Laina is weak for not going through with the marriage. You’re at work, Luke. He’s just an old man. He doesn’t mean anything by it.

He chuckles.

Fuck it . “What are you saying, Cotton? Spit it out.”

“I’m not saying nothin’, Luke. Just trying to give you some advice.”

I bite my tongue and focus on Moe. Cotton takes a call outside the stable.

Moe’s shoe comes off fairly easily, and I get to work cleaning her hoof. Thankfully, she’s not too much of a mess. She’s calmed down a lot in her old days, making her my favorite—and she knows it.

“You’re a good girl, Moe. You’re officially the only thing that’s cooperated with me in the past few days.” I glance up at her big brown eyes. “Well, you and Gavin.” I make a face at her, then get back to work. “The world might be ending, come to think of it.”

“That new kid I just hired already called in sick for tomorrow,” Cotton says, ambling back inside. “How in the hell do people pay their bills when they won’t show up for work?”

“Beats me.”

He chuckles. “Of course, you don’t know. You have the work ethic of your granddaddy.”

I keep my head down but nod in appreciation of the compliment. I’m still too pissed about his earlier advice to play too nice.

“Did you ever know your grandmomma?” Cotton asks.

“No. She died the year Mallet was born, I think.”

“That’s a shame. She was one hell of a woman.”

I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. “I’ve only heard good things about her. But people don’t generally tell you all the shitty things someone does once they’re gone.”

“I’ll tell ya.” He spits again. “Your grandaddy went to the grave owing me fifty bucks from a poker game.”

I snort without looking up.

“It was late one night,” he says. “A bunch of us were up at The Wet Whistle trying to stay out of trouble, and someone decided a poker game was the ticket. That was back when you could have alcohol wherever you wanted because the feds weren’t sticking their nose into everything like they are now.”

“Yeah, you can’t do that now.” I fit a new shoe onto Moe’s hoof. “Unless you’re in a casino, I don’t even think you can drink and play poker in the same place.”

“The world has gone to hell.”

I chuckle.

“Anyway, your grandaddy borrowed fifty bucks from me on the last hand and lost his ass.” Cotton’s belly jiggles as he laughs. “I never let him live it down.”

“Want me to pay you back?”

“Hell, no. I shoved another fifty in his casket just so he’ll owe me double when I see him next.”

I shake my head, not sure what sense that makes. But whatever.

“You look like him, you know that?” Cotton asks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were your grandaddy workin’ on that horse.”

Why are you doing this today?

“Listen to me,” he says, chuckling again. “I’m getting old and soft.”

“It happens to the best of them.”

“That it does.”

I sense his proximity growing closer. I finish Moe’s shoe and look up. Cotton stands with his hands on his hips, a wad of chew in his lip, staring at me.

“You know, Cotton,” I say, stretching my back. “I appreciate all of this … conversation, but you’re starting to freak me out a little bit.”

His features fall, and I feel like a dick.

“I’ve had a hell of a weekend, buddy,” I say, moving to Moe’s other side. “I’m sorry if I’m being an asshole.”

“You’re not. I’m freaking me out a little bit, too. Found out yesterday that I have the cancer.”

I whip around to face him. “You have cancer?”

“Of the throat.” He spits. “Probably from this here tobacco.”

“Why don’t you stop?”

“It’s gonna kill me now anyway. Might as well enjoy it till I’m gone.”

I clamp a hand around the back of my neck. What the heck ?

I don’t know what to say to this old man I’ve known my entire life. Do I express condolences and make it weird? Do I blow it off like he seems to be doing? Do I ask questions? But what if he doesn’t want to talk?

My chest aches for Cotton, and my thoughts go immediately to his wife, Emma Jo. That poor woman. And their only daughter, Traci, must be heartbroken.

“Guess I could’ve said this an easier way,” he says, watching me with steely eyes. “But Emma and I are going to stay with our daughter in Chicago until … well until I die, I suppose. Traci wants us there with her, and I want the girls together when I go, too. It’ll be easier on them.”

“Damn, Cotton. I don’t know what to say.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to say. We all gotta go at some point. At least I know it’s coming and can make it as easy on everyone as I can. It’s a blessing, really.”

My head spins. He’s dying, yet it’s a blessing? How? I don’t understand.

“What do you need?” I ask earnestly. “Let me do something to help. I know Gavin and Chase will be willing to pitch in, too.”

He strolls around the stable, watching the ground as he thinks. My heart hurts as I imagine what he’s going through—and not just for himself, although that’s scary enough. I bet the heaviest things on his mind are Emma Jo and Traci.

Finally, Cotton stops next to his favorite horse and gives her a nuzzle.

“I didn’t have a son, Luke. But if I get one in the next lifetime, I hope he’s a lot like you.” He grins. “A little less hardheaded and maybe a bit more punctual …”

I swallow a lump in my throat.

“The only thing you can do for me, kid, is to live a good life. Learn that lesson I was talkin’ about earlier.”

Although I fought against it earlier, I ask to hear it now. If it’s Cotton’s last wish for me to listen to his advice, I want to do it for him. That doesn’t mean I have to abide by it.

“What lesson?” I ask.

“You got a good heart on ya. You’re a hell of a farrier and blacksmith, and you’re an even better man. Your parents did a damn good job with you.”

I sniffle, wiping my nose on my shirt sleeve. Damn old man .

“I’m facing certain death. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it’s coming for me,” he says. “And when you get to my age, Luke, and you take stock of all your accomplishments …”

He sweeps his arms around the stable at the plethora of awards nailed to the walls.

“None of that means anything,” he says, dropping his arms. “What matters is the woman in the house and the other in Chicago. That’s it. It doesn’t get any simpler than that.”

I nod warily.

“Make sure you’re not just putting work in at the stables,” he says. “Put it in where it matters, too.”

“I will.”

“Nah, kid, I mean it ,” he says, irritated as if I’m blowing him off. “Take a lesson from that wedding last weekend.”

Let’s not go there, Cotton. Let’s not ruin this.

“Did you know that girl who ran out on that movie star was from Brickfield?” he asks.

“I did.”

“I didn’t realize that. Guess I don’t pay enough attention to those things. Emma Jo says I’m the only one who didn’t know that.”

“Seems about right,” I say.

“Get you a girl like that.”

What ? My head turns to him so fast that my neck pops.

“That girl knew what she wanted,” Cotton says. “ And what she didn’t want . She made a hard decision—it had to be—because she knew what was best for her. People don’t do that anymore, kid. They get suckered into shit and let it ruin their life.”

Wow. This is not where I thought this was going. And yet he’s right. He’s so right about Laina.

“You gotta break some eggs to make some French toast,” he says, laughing at his own joke. “I know that’s not the saying, but I hate omelets.”

“Not a big fan either.” I laugh, too. “I get what you’re saying.”

More than you even know.

“Good. Now, let’s get you back to work,” Cotton says, spitting as he heads for his truck. “And if you tell anyone I said any of this shit, I’ll call you a liar.”

I look at Moe and chuckle.

You’re not a liar at all, Cotton. Not even a little bit.