Page 73 of Roaring Fork Wrangler

“I would imagine he’s terrified right now, and for whatever reason, you’re the person who soothes him. The more progress he makes, the better he’ll feel on his own.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

She shifted so she could look into my eyes. “What would Nana say to a question like that?”

“She’d look up at the ceiling, mutter ‘God forbid,’ then smack me for saying it.”

My mom rolled her eyes. “She wouldn’t smack you.”

“We’re talking about Nana, not your mom.”

“You’re right. Shewould smack you.”

The progress Cordmade in the following few days far exceeded the doctors’ expectations. He’d gone from being unable to move at all to being able to lift his arms and legs. They didn’t believe he was strong enough to try walking yet, but were optimistic he would be within a few days. What seemed to agitate him the most was that he still hadn’t recovered the ability to speak beyond a syllable. Even that, he struggled with. Frustration was etched on his face, and being reminded it would take time for him to regain various abilities only increased his irritation that bordered on anger.

Remembering how I’d felt, facing what I considered my journey back to “normal,” I knew the last thing he needed was another admonition from me or anyone else, not that it was my place to say anything about it.

A few days ago, Buck had returned to Colorado to be with his wife and baby, and their youngest brother, Holt, came in his place. My understanding was he’d stay for several days, then their sister, Flynn, would arrive.

Sam, Holt, and I took turns being at the hospital during the day. Beau and Gray visited too, and either Holt or I spent most nights there.

“Good morning, Juni,” said Holt, standing and stretching when I arrived in the morning after he’d been on the “night shift.”

“Good morning,” I responded before removing my jacket, then standing by Cord’s bedside. He opened his eyes and looked up at me.

“You’re…here.” He struggled, but that he’d been able to say two words together was progress.

“I am,” I exclaimed. “And you’re talking.”

“He’s been a regular chatterbox,” muttered Holt.

I looked over at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry. I was kidding. He’s only said your name but with increasing frequency.”

Cord’s eyes scrunched at his brother. “Get…out.”

Holt approached on the opposite side of the bed. “Gladly.” He leaned over and rested his head against his brother’s. “Love you, man,” he said before walking out. Two seconds later, he stuck his head back in the door. “Forgot to mention he’s gonna try walking today.”

“That’s great news,” I said to Cord, smiling.

His eyes scrunched at me like theyhad at Holt.

“What?”

He shook his head.

“Did I say something wrong?”

When Cord didn’t respond and closed his eyes, I pulled out my tablet, sat in the more comfortable chair, and opened the book I was reading. I glanced up at him periodically, standing when I saw a tear run down his cheek.

“What is it?” I asked, stroking his hair.

“So…sorry.”

I shook my head. “Stop this. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

He lifted his chin. “Tired.”

---