Page 9 of Protecting What Is Mine

4

Hank

“He’s awake?” I stand in the shower, trying to keep the phone a safe distance from my wet head as rivulets of water race down my body toward my toes. What had started as a long overdue, stress-relieving moment of peace, has been cut short by someone incessantly calling again and again until I answered.

Figures it had to be Gabe.

“Fucking with me about Chet’s condition would…well, it would make you a first-class asshole.” I pull the phone from my ear and tap the speaker button to free my hands while I attempt to dry off and get a towel around my waist. “Okay. Well, I mean, I’ve got to check on a couple things here, but I can probably be back there in an hour.”

“Don’t rush yourself brother.” Gabe’s voice is tinny through the small speaker and it echoes off the sink, but it’s audible enough. “Since Chet’s accident you’ve either been at the ranch helping me, or at the hospital sleeping in that godawful chair beside his bed. Christy’s with him now, and she’ll be talking with the doctors. I’ll be taking Mom back to the hospital in a little while. You’ve done more than your share. Take some time for yourself and do whatever you need to at home. Hell, catch some z’s in your own bed. If we hear anything meaningful, I’ll call.”

I wipe the steam from the mirrored medicine cabinet door and stare in disbelief.

He’s awake!

“Alright. I appreciate it. I’ll be back this evening for sure, but seriously, if Chet has any insight about what happened to him, or the doctors have any info, please…let me know.”

“Will do,” Gabe says before ending the call.

Relief courses through my veins. Deep down, Chet has always been a sort of real-life superhero to me. In part, I imagine it’s because he’s the oldest of us boys. And since he’s got me beat by a full eight years, memories of him during my formative years involve me, literally, looking up to him. Add to that, his no-nonsense, if I’ve got something to say, I’ll tell you straight and if I don’t, I won’t say anything at all way of being and you’ve got a man so deliberate in his actions, so confident in who he is and what he believes…well, compared to most men today—Chet has always stood head and shoulders above the rest.

But the more time that passed without him waking up, the more I began to question that image of him. Could he be just an ordinary man after all? Can he really overcome anything life throws at him?

I knew you wouldn’t let me down, big brother.

I quickly dress and reach for the phone to share the good news with Mollie. We’ve been texting practically nonstop since she came to see me at the hospital, but this…this is the moment we’ve been waiting for.

Me: You busy?

Me: I hope not because I’ve got news!

Mollie: Oh yeah? I like news.

Me: The day has come beautiful. The day has come.

Me: Call me when you can.

* * *

It’s been almost two weeks since Chet woke up, but finally, at long last, here we are,I think to myself as I pull into the driveway on the right half of the duplex Mollie rents with her cousin. No more excuses and no more backing out at the last minute. This is happening. Nestled just outside of town, the neighborhood is barely more than a handful of streets, most of them ending in a cul-de-sac. A neighborhood that was supposed to become a fancy, sprawling development, once upon a time. Until the developers realized there wasn’t actually any market interest in turning this rural stretch of farmland into suburbia. I mean really—suburbs of what, Cornfield Estates? Heifer Hideaway?

There are a few single-family homes peppered in, but her street is primarily made up of duplexes—and most of them look a bit rundown. Her building is no exception, a couple years overdue for even the most basic maintenance. Nothing a little time and attention couldn’t take care of—a fresh coat of paint, maybe a little carpentry to fix the sag in the shudders adorning the picture window. However, judging by the junky cars in the driveway on the other half of the building, and the crap scattered throughout the yard, I doubt the landlord is all too motivated to make the investment.

I grab my straw cowboy hat off the dash and check that it’s squared on my head in the rearview before opening the truck door and sliding down from the cab.

The August heat has a bead of sweat forming on my face almost as soon as I start up the walk. Even with the late afternoon sun obscured behind the house, it’s enough to make a man think twice about being outside.

I re-tuck the edges of my t-shirt into my blue jeans. This is not what I would typically think of as the best attire given the situation—especially with this girl—but the woman had free rein to dream up her perfect night. And considering what she chose, I can’t think of much else that would be appropriate.

I clear my throat before gently rapping my knuckle against the faded red screen door.

“Be right there.” I hear someone call from inside. A woman, blonde and attractive with a similar build to—but who is definitely not Mollie—pulls back the door and offers a warm smile. “You must be Hank.”

I lift the hat from my head and nod. “Afternoon, ma’am. Sam, I’d guess?”

“Guilty as charged. But please, I’m not ready to be a ma’am.” The woman pauses, and then clarifies. “Strike that first part. Not knowing what nonsense Mollie may have shared with you, I take back any admission of guilt.” She steps back and motions for me to enter. “She should be ready in just a minute. Please come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

I nod. “Why thank you ma’…err…Sam. Is it alright if I call you Sam?”

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