Page 51 of Wistful in Wyoming
“Any word?”Grady stopped in front of Jeremiah and held out one of two coffees he’d probably gotten out of a hospital vending machine. The ER’s waiting area was bustling with midday activity, but Jeremiah ignored everyone, his gaze remaining pinned on the door leading to the treatment rooms.
Taking the proffered drink, Jeremiah shook his head as Grady sat in the chair beside him. “Not since the paramedic who brought him in came and told me Dale woke up after they started an IV and gave him some fluids. He said it looked worse than it really was after they were able to clean up some more of the blood and get a good look at the wound. Apparently, the doctor said it would need a lot of stitches but wouldn’t require actual surgery. I asked, but I can’t go back and sit with him until they finish stitching him up. Something about reducing the risk of infection or some bullshit like that.”
It’d been about an hour since the ambulance had screamed into the hospital’s parking lot with Jeremiah’s pickup truck hot on its ass. By the time he found a parking spot, they’d already whisked Dale inside. The only thing Jeremiah had been able to do was go to the registration desk and give a woman there Dale’s information—which, surprisingly, was everything but the man’s insurance carrier. He hadn’t realized how much he’d learned about Dale over the last few months. Somehow, he’d managed to tell the woman what she needed to know without yelling or breaking down and bawling his eyes out.
Then the torturous waiting game had begun.
Not long after, Jenna and Willow had rushed in and succeeded in calming Jeremiah down from a panic attack that’d been slowly closing in on him with each second that’d passed. His skin had felt clammy from a cold sweat as his hands trembled. Apparently, Grady had called them to come stay with Jeremiah, so he wouldn’t be alone. Nathan had remained home with Shannon but demanded updates every half hour.
While Jeremiah had appreciated his sister’s and best friend’s support, he’d gotten tired of their attempts to comfort him in between unbearable silence or random stilted conversation. He’d finally told them to take a break in the cafeteria for a bit and bring him back something to eat—not that he could stomach anything right then. Instead of taking a sip of the coffee Grady had given him, he set the cup on a small table beside his chair. Just the thought of eating or drinking anything made him nauseous. All he could see in his mind was the copious amount of blood that’d stained Dale’s clothes and his bruised and ashen face as they loaded his unconscious body into the ambulance.
“Dale’s strong. He’ll be good as new in no time. I have his hat in my truck by the way.”
“Thanks.” He glared at Grady. “What the fuck happened? All I know is there was a fight, and it was three against one.”
His cousin filled him in on what witnesses had told the responding deputies. As Jeremiah listened, his outrage grew as his stomach roiled violently. When he was done with the recap, Grady lifted his Stetson and ran his hand through his hair. “Anyway, all three are under arrest for aggravated assault and battery, and Schneider will also be facing charges for possession of a deadly weapon with intent to harm and attempted murder. When he pulled out the knife, the witnesses heard him threaten to kill Dale. He’s still on probation from his last DUI, so he won’t be granted bail. I doubt any of them are going to see the light of day for quite some time.”
“I hope karma takes a huge bite out of his ass before someone shivs him in jail.” It was the first time in Jeremiah’s life he’d wished death upon someone, and he hated the feeling, but that fucking asshole could’ve killed Dale. Jeremiah didn’t think he’d ever forget the terror he’d felt when Ducky called him to tell him Dale had been ambushed.
He dropped his head into his hands. “I should’ve never come out. Dale’s hurt because of me, and it could’ve been so much worse. I can’t help but think he’d be better off without me.”
Grady grasped Jeremiah’s shoulder and squeezed hard, commanding his attention. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. You hear me? They’re always going to be people who hate others because of who they love, what color their skin is, what god they pray to, what side of the tracks they grew up on, who they voted for, and what uniform they wear. You think I haven’t had my share of harassment and threats because of this badge?” He pointed to the gold star on the left side of his pressed, white, button-down shirt. “It’s nobody’s right to demand you conform to their ideals. Dale makes you happy—more so than I’ve ever seen you, Jer. Why should you be alone and miserable just to please others? Don’t let those pieces of shit make you give up the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s one of the reasons why your folks and mine don’t talk anymore, and why I barely talk to my parents. I—”
Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Grady. “What’re you talking about?” He knew his mother and her sister had gotten into a fight when he’d been in his midteens. It’d put a huge rift between them, but even after all those years, Jeremiah’s parents still wouldn’t tell him what it’d been all about. Apparently, his cousin knew more about it than he did.
Grady cocked his head to the side. “You really don’t know what they fought about back then, do you?” When Jeremiah shook his head, the other man continued. “Well, shit. Looks like I get to be the one to fill you in. The fight was over you.”
“Me? What the fuck?”
“Yup. It was during a summer barbecue at the JP when I was twenty-two or twenty-three. My parents suspected you were gay and told your folks something along the lines of ‘make sure he gets straight again,’ otherwise, you’d be going to hell. They even told them to send you to one of those conversion camps so you wouldn’t turn your cousins gay too—as if that’s the way things work.”
Unable to formulate a verbal response, Jeremiah’s eyes were huge as he gaped at Grady. He had no idea anyone had guessed he was gay back then. Hell, he’d still been figuring it out himself around that time.
“Your mother had a freaking conniption and told my mother off, saying she didn’t care if you were gay, straight, bisexual, or screwing aliens. As long as you weren’t messin’ around with farm animals, there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with you. And, yes, those were her exact words—I can still hear her sayin’ them too. Anyway, she kicked my folks out of the house, and to my knowledge, the only time they ever said another word to each other was at Grandpa Jack’s funeral, and they were barely civil then. Of course, that didn’t stop my brother and sister and me from coming to visit y’all whenever we could. It didn’t matter to us.”
He’d always known Aunt Anna and Uncle Henry were frequent church goers, but he never suspected it went beyond that to the point they were religious fanatics and intolerant bigots. Then again, it’d been forever since he’d last seen them, and come to think about it, they hadn’t exactly been friendly toward him at his grandfather’s funeral. He’d thought that’d just been a carryover from their fight with his parents, not knowing he’d been the cause of it all. “Holy shit. How do you know all this?”
“I wasthere, but I don’t think any of them realized it—they were all too busy yelling at each other in the kitchen. You, Jenna, and all the other kids were all scattered around the ranch, practicing your ropin’ or something—I forget. The rest of the adults were outside too. What Idoremember is I had to go to the bathroom and heard the whole thing through the back porch door. It was pretty bad—I was surprised there wasn’t any blood shed. My folks were livid—they were halfway home before they realized they’d left me at your house. I’d caught a lift with them to the barbecue because my car was in the shop, and they completely forgot.”
He snorted since he could actually picture that in his mind. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d forgotten their son somewhere. Jeremiah remembered hearing about one time his aunt had left Grady at a Walmart when his cousin had been around eight or nine and checking out the toy department.
“It was the first time I’d realized how bigoted my parents were, so it wasn’t really a shock when they forbade me to marry Leah because she was Jewish.”
The hits just kept coming. Jeremiah rubbed his jaw, his late day scruff abrading his fingers. “Are you kidding me? Is that why you two eloped to Vegas?”
“Yup. Leah’s parents were gone, and mine refused to come to the wedding, so we did our own thing. It didn’t matter to my folks that she didn’t practice her religion and that any kids we had would be raised Protestant. As it is, they barely have a relationship with Rissa, and I doubt they’d even have that if she wasn’t baptized.
“The point is Jeremiah, when I met Leah, I knew almost immediately she was the love of my life. There was no way I was going to let anyone dictate to me who I could or couldn’t love—not even my parents. So why are you letting some two-bit redneck assholes dictate who you spend your life with?”
Why indeed?
“Jeremiah Urban?”
A women dressed in blue scrubs was standing at the door to the patient area, glancing around the waiting room, and Jeremiah jumped to his feet.
“That’s me!”
She smiled at him. “Mr. Harris is all stitched up and asking for you.”
