“Go ahead and fill your tanks this time, kid.” George offered a sympathetic smile as if he knew more than he was letting on. “But tell your old man to stop in and see me.”
“Will do.” Coop thanked him and rushed out the door before George had a change of heart. He was in the truck before Kyle had the tanks full.
“Where’s my Coke?” Kyle asked as he hopped back into the truck.
“Long story.”
“DAD,” Coop called out as he walked through the screen door of the old farmhouse he called home. “Where you at?”
“Hey.” His mom did her best whisper-yell as he walked into the living room. “Your brothers are asleep.” She wagged her finger, warning him to be quiet, and sat down the tablet she was undoubtedly reading some romance novel on. He would have bet money that by the time he came downstairs for breakfast the next morning she’d be on the phone with Millie Mason talking about how hot and bothered some love scene in whatever fifty-shades-of-mommy-porn book they were reading had her. It was beyond disgusting.
“Sorry.” He tossed his hands up. He hadn’t realized it was so late. Well, late by farmer standards. Nine o’clock on a weeknight was like midnight for the people in his house. Especially when five a.m. rolled around. He flopped down on the sofa and put his hand behind his head.
“How was practice?” his dad asked, switching off the television and giving Coop his full attention.
“Ehh.” Coop shrugged. “I’ve had better.” He usually did great at practice, but today his mind had been racing instead of his bike. EJ was mad at him and he couldn’t quit thinking about what George had told him at the station. He’d looked like an amateur out there. He had actually rolled a tabletop jump and that was not like him. He was eight the last time he had done that.
Kyle had roused him the entire drive home. “See ya tomorrow, chicken shit,” he’d teased when he dropped him off. “Maybe Saturday you can actually jump the jumps.”
Coop stared up at the trophies on the fireplace mantel and hoped that he’d have another one to add on Saturday.
“I probably won’t make it to the race this weekend,” his dad informed him. “There’s twenty miles of roadside that need mowing and my favorite farmhand has been too busy chasing the Mason girl all over the county to get them done this week.” Coop looked over at his dad, whose eyes were creased in the corners. He could tell by the twitching mouth that his old man was barely fighting off a grin.
“Quit it, Jim. Wasn’t that long ago you were doing the same thing. I swear, you used to camp out on my front porch,” his mom said in his defense.
“I don’t recall it quite like that.” Jim chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you were the one seducing me with jugs of sweet tea and fresh baked cookies.”
“However you want to remember it.” Penny Cooper laughed before turning her attention to her oldest boy. “So, Brantley,” she said, calling him by his first name. His mama was just about the only one who called him that. Well, her and the teachers at school when he was clowning around in class. “How is my future daughter-in-law?”
“Doubt that’s gonna happen,” Coop mumbled under his breath. His parents had teased him mercilessly about liking Ella Jane for as long as he could remember. “She and I are friends. That’s it.”
“Okay, buddy,” his dad condescended with a smirk. “Whatever you say.”
Coop huffed out a loud breath. “Let’s just say I’m not her favorite person right now.”
“She’ll get over it,” his mom said. “I always forgave your father for acting like a jackass.”
“Who said I was acting like a jackass?” Coop sat up, grabbing a throw pillow off the couch and folding his arms around it.
“You are your father’s son.”
Coop and his dad exchanged smiles as they shook their heads. They really couldn’t disagree with her. She was the only woman in the house and knew her four boys inside, outside, and upside down. Speaking of knowing things, Coop remembered there was something he wanted to know about.
He decided it was as good a time as any to relay the message George had sent that afternoon. “Hey, Dad, George Harwell said that you need to stop in and see him at the station. Something about a missed payment on the farm account.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jim straightened up in his chair, obviously surprised by what Coop had just said. “Yeah, I’ll, er… I’ll take care of that tomorrow.”
He watched his parents trade a look. A look that told him they were hiding something. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” his mother said, her tone patronizing him even though he knew that probably wasn’t her intention.
“I’m seventeen. I can handle whatever it is. Is the farm in trouble?” For months Coop had been trying to get his parents to give him more responsibility. He’d been on this farm since birth. In fact, he was pretty certain that any past lives he had lived had been as a farmer. It was in his blood and he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Well, maybe racing dirt bikes. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You’re right,” Jim agreed. “Here’s the deal. Costs have gone up, income has not. We’re just a little behind on a few things. We’ll get caught up when the crops come out this fall.”
“No need to worry though,” his mother continued, sugarcoating the truth until it shined. Coop knew she just couldn’t turn off her protectiveness.
“What can I do?” he asked. “I can get a part-time job or cut back on racing.” He offered up two ideas that he really didn’t want to do, but his duty as a son outweighed his desires as a teenager.
“You can get on up to bed and let us worry about it,” his mother replied. He should have known his mother would say that. She was always harping on Jim to give Coop a break when it came to work. “Let him be a boy. He’s got the rest of his life to work,” she would say when he wanted to take a day off to race or “jack around” as his dad called it.
Coop nodded as he headed toward the stairs. “Well just let me know if there is anything I can do. Kyle’s gone most of the week and Ella Jane isn’t speaking to me at the moment.” His parents both offered him heartfelt smiles as he went up to bed. “I got nothin’ but time.”
After taking a shower, he had one more thing he had to do before tossing and turning all night over the crap day he’d had. So he picked up his cell phone.
I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.
He typed it out and hit send, hoping he’d get a reply. Maybe she’s over it. By the time he finally fell asleep, two hours later, it was abundantly clear that she was definitely not over anything…except maybe him.
THE next morning, Coop was trying to wrestle his brothers, Will and Sam, into the truck.
“Get in the truck, punks.” He was supposed to drop them off at the Masons’. Millie had a fence that needed painting, and between the workload and Kyle being gone for football most of the week, she was desperate for workers. Obviously, if she was settling for the two pain-in-the-ass pre-teens that were slap-boxing their way to the truck.
“Don’t jack around today,” he warned them as they pulled out of their driveway and headed toward the Masons’. He realized how much he sounded like his father as he lectured his little brothers about getting their work done and respecting authority. “I’ll pick you up at five, and Millie better not tell me you didn’t finish that fence today.”
“Relax,” Will replied with an eye roll he didn’t miss. “We’ll get it done.”
“Yeah, it’s a fence, not brain surgery,” Sam added. “Plus, Mom said we couldn’t go to camp next week if we didn’t.”