Page 82 of We Redeemed the Rain

“He got arrested for petty theft and assault. Cooper’s a mess, Bea. I don’t know how to help him anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Tag. You’ve always felt responsible for him.”

I shrugged. “He needed someone to look after him. I did a pretty awful job, apparently.”

She shook her head. “He needed responsibleadults. You were a child trying to be a parent.”

“He dropped outta school at sixteen and hit the road, and I was never able to get him back.”

“Cooper doesn’t have a diploma?” She rested a hand over her heart, shaking her head in disbelief. “That makes me so sad for him.”

Dumbfounded, I sat there. A squeezing sensation around my chest made it hard to breathe. I didn’t tell her? She would’ve tamed her surprised expression if she knew. How did graduating not come up in our letters?

I wanted to finish high school. I would’ve if things had been different. I about killed myself trying. Man, I didn’t want to talk about this.

Her brow furrowed in thought. “Did you finish school?”

I lifted a shoulder, contemplating telling her a lie. But water poured from the dam now, the honest flow long overdue. The truth scraped out without my permission. “I got…eight weeks into my senior year and never went back.”

I glanced at her, seeing concern, not judgment. The crease between her brows held. “Why?”

“Too many responsibilities. I couldn’t do it all.”

She took a deep, quiet breath. “I know school meant a lot to you.”

“This ranch meant more. And it needed me.”

She nodded quietly.

“I can’t help but think…” My words trailed off as I belatedly considered whether or not I wanted to say them.

She waited a few beats then prodded me. “Think what?”

“If I had finished, maybe Cooper would’ve too. He was followin’ my example when he quit. If things were different, maybe he’d have a payin’ job right now.”

Her hand moved to squeeze my forearm draped over the back of the swing. “It’s not your fault.”

I had to stifle a physical reaction. It wasallmy fault. A burden I could never share with her. Dropping out of school was the tip of a very big iceberg.

“You did everything you could.”

Eventually, silence fell over us, drawing my attention to the time. The sun was long gone, and the dusk gray sky had morphed into deep night. A bit of regret burned in my blood. Had I said too much? I was so…differentthan Bea. Our stories were black against white. The contrast between the two of us grew more stark with every word out of my mouth.

Bea Thompson was everything I wasn’t.

If I didn’t disgust her by now, it was only a matter of time.

Her soft voice spoke up again, changing the topic. “Have you…have you always been alone?”

“Not completely. I’ve had the employees here, of course the horses, I call my cousin…” I stopped abruptly, realizing how stupid I sounded.

The only people I could depend on drew a paycheck from me? I couldn’t look at her after admitting such a thing.

For a while, my cousin and I were close, but after she got divorced years ago, things changed. We only talked once a month, maybe less now.

For the first time, I wished I’d dated or had other siblings or a relationship with my mom orsomethingjust so I could prove to Bea I was valuable. That I could show her there was someone else in the world who cared.

Here was Bea, beloved singer, sister, and daughter. She had a promising future, a good family, talent, and stability. Then there was me—broke, loner cowboy who couldn’t even get his own mother’s attention.

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