Page 119 of Tapped

I’m desperate for it to not end.

What I’m trying not to think about is Delcan Braim. He’s still on the loose and could be anywhere at this point.

When I ask Micah about this in the dark of night, he tells me not to worry. At the beginning of the week, I didn’t.

But … two days.

A gentle hand lands on my shoulder. “That little boy is hell-bent on being a cowboy.”

I look up at Tess who is not bundled in a blanket or a coat. She’s thrown on a thin sweatshirt and jeans as she claims the chair next to me with her own cup of coffee.

“I must look like an idiot bundled up like this—the Floridian who’s not used to the cold.”

She shakes her head and shoots me a sly grin. “This is summer for us. I’ve got to bask in it while I can before the snow comes.”

I look back out to the yard. “It doesn’t seem to bother Chase. He’s nonstop. He’s never slept as well as he does here.”

“He can also eat, but then again, he’s working up an appetite. Look at him go.”

Micah has chopped wood every morning. If I hadn’t seen his high school and college pictures all over the house as proof of how much weight he put on after he left home, I’d swear every muscle that I know so well was from working on this ranch rather than defending an offense on the football field and staying in shape for his job.

But he’s not chopping this morning. Today he clomped down the steps after chugging a cup of coffee and proceeded to load the small trailer of the side-by-side with wood and move it to the side of the house.

His shadow followed wearing Tess’s rain boots.

“Chase has to be freezing,” I note. “I’m not sure what good the rain boots are when he’s soaked to the bone everywhere else.”

“I’ll make him some hot chocolate when he’s done. Don’t want him to catch a cold.” She looks over at me. “I know you’re a doctor, and doctors say you can’t catch a cold from being cold, but I kindly disagree.”

I smirk back. “You don’t get a cold from the weather.”

She waves me off in a teasing manner. “Like I said, you’re wrong. No matter, Chase will need hot chocolate with marshmallows after a hot shower.”

Tess has settled into her role of hostess and quasi-grandmother like a rockstar. As the week has gone on, she’s stopped asking me before she gives Chase what he wants, and she’s unapologetic about it. Chase loves her, but I might love her more. I’ve secretly watched her watch her son as intently as I’ve watched mine. It’s like she’s drinking in every moment she has with him.

I turn back to Micah and Chase. My son struggles with one split log at a time compared to Micah who tosses them like toothpicks into the trailer. Once it’s full, they make the short trek back to the house and carefully stack them in a neat pile under the overhang to keep it dry.

This time when Tess speaks, she sounds different, like she’s been transported to another moment in time … and one that isn’t at all happy. “Haven’t seen him like this in years. Even after we lost Hannah, he was devastated, but he was still himself. When I look back, we lost him after the trial.”

I turn away from memorizing Chase mimic Micah in every move he makes and look at his mother. “Trial?”

She nods like she’s in another world. “Yeah. Micah never got over that. He thought he knew Tyson. Heck, we all trusted him. Including Hannah.”

I glance back to her son—the man I’m falling harder and harder for as the minutes click on—before asking something I know I shouldn’t. It’s none of my business. If Micah wants me to know something, he’d tell me himself. “Who’s Tyson?”

She pulls in a breath that looks like what my patients do when they try to manage their pain.

Physical pain.

Not the heartbreak kind.

“Tyson Tivey. Micah’s best friend growing up. He’s the one who slipped Hannah those drugs that turned out to be deadly.”

Holy shit.

“Tess.” I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. “I had no idea.”

“As if losing Hannah wasn’t enough, Micah’s worn that guilt ever since we found out it was Tyson. Hannah trusted him because he was Micah’s friend. It’s why he hates it here so much. Everything is a reminder.” She motions around us to the beautiful blue hydrangeas. They’re tall and plentiful, and line the deep front porch. “Heck, she planted all these when she was in middle school. She made Hank dig out the thorny bushes that we threw in the ground when we moved in. When you live on a working ranch, you don’t have time to keep things pretty. But Hannah loved the earth. We’re surrounded by her. Every time I sit here, I see her blue eyes staring back at me.”

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