Page 16 of Love Wells Kept

“If there’s ever been a place where a lot of people could use a drink, it’s here.”

The two bicker about it as they exit the room and continue down the hallway. Eventually their voices fade away, and I tuck my chair in directly next to Jackson so my arm follows the path of his on top of the bed, and our shoulders bump into each other.

“If I weren’t pregnant right now, your brothers would’ve already driven me to drink. They bicker like an old married couple.”

I pet the bristly five o’clock shadow peppering his cheek, careful not to accidentally nudge the ventilator or anything else as I quietly remind my husband that I’m here, loving him, patiently waiting for him to come back to me.

“If anything, maybe their incessant arguing will make you wake up so you can tell them to knock it off. Or maybe you’ll wake up to tell me to shut up. Not that you’ve ever done that before, even when I probably should shut up.” I laugh under my breath. “I’ll never forget that first night we sat in the kitchen together, and when I finally let you get a word in edgewise the only thing you had to say was ‘You talk a lot, huh?’ ”

During my second night on the ranch, I’d had trouble sleeping. When I strolled into the kitchen a little after two a.m., the poor guy had been trying to drink some chamomile tea to help with his insomnia. Delirious with my crush on him, a lack of sleep, and an awareness that the old nightgown I was wearing wasn’t exactly sexy, I resorted to talking his ear off. And after he made that comment—a supposed compliment that wasn’t clarified until much later—I slid off the countertop I perched on and scurried back to my room. It was weeks before we found our way back into the kitchen in the middle of the night once again and our friendship began.

“This kind of feels like that, since you aren’t talking, so I’m left to freewheel. And you know what? I actually don’t like to talk a lot. I like to talk to you a lot. Back then we were strangers, and you’re so damn much like your dad and Austin, in that you don’t enjoy talking to people you don’t know well. Especially back then—you were so shy. But now I love talking with you instead of at you…. I miss your voice. I miss it so much, even though it’s only been a day. We’ve officially turned into that obnoxious couple who can’t go a day without each other.”

I finally take a breath and notice a stray tear that wiggled its way out to fall down my cheek. I nuzzle into his shoulder, letting his bare skin wipe away the wetness below my eye. And I stay there, relishing his warmth until I drift back to sleep.

The smell of Earl Grey tea wakes me up. I couldn’t have been asleep for long, and I feel it. Sandpaper eyelids drag against my eyes, and my vision requires multiple blinks to focus on Austin holding a massive, steaming cup in my face.

“Denny went to meet Dad in the parking lot.” He waits for me to grab the cardboard cup, then cautiously steps backward until he’s practically falling back into his usual chair.

“Are you sure you’re good with seeing him?”

His face screams ambivalence. “Yeah.”

My eyes narrow at him. Swear to God, sometimes I think dealing with the three brothers has been a bigger test for my patience than raising my own children. Denny’s voice carries, so Austin and I have time for a long gulp of our drinks and a deep breath before they come in.

Still not enough to prepare for the gut punch of hearing Bennett’s voice racked with despair in the same way the three of ours were yesterday. He says nothing but Jackson’s name repeatedly. Striding into the room, he all but ignores Austin and me, heading straight for Jackson’s bedside. He crouches beside him, placing both hands over Jackson’s, and lets out a rattling exhale.

“The doctor said he’s doing pretty well…they just want to keep him sedated for a few days to let the swelling go down. But last night was the big test, and this guy”—Denny gives Jackson’s foot a firm squeeze through the blanket—“passed with flying colors.”

Bennett nods, chewing at his bottom lip. Then he looks up at me, and it’s my name laced with sadness when it leaves his lips.

He stands, and the next thing I know, Bennett’s arms are wrapped tight around me, tugging my head into his chest. He’s tall and still coated in ranch-earned muscle despite more than a decade of being away. I breathe out a sob into the cotton of his shirt, and he presses a damp cheek to the top of my head.

If there’s anybody here who understands the pain of not knowing whether the love of your life will survive through the night, it’s him.

Granted, those circumstances were different. He had time to say goodbye. To prepare.

But is there ever such a thing as fully preparing yourself for the loss of your soulmate? Bennett Wells is living proof there isn’t. He barely survived the loss of his wife, and abruptly leaving the only home he’d ever known was his way of saving himself. And of saving the boys, even if it’s something they’ll never understand. Bennett was leaving that ranch one way or another, and at least this way he didn’t orphan his boys.

I get it now.

Without Jackson, I don’t know if I could stay at Wells Ranch. I don’t know if I could sleep in the bed we shared. Sit at the kitchen table and stare at his empty seat day after day. Walk down the same front porch steps where I leapt into his arms the day I found out I was pregnant with Odessa. Every square inch of that place is a memory, and if those memories were ever to become painful, I’d need to escape, too.

“How are you doing, kid?” Bennett asks as we slowly untangle our embrace.

The pad of my finger presses to the corner of my eye to collect tears. “Been better. But we’re going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Bennett echoes, turning to look over his shoulder at his son in the hospital bed. Then he twists to look at his other sons. “How are you guys holding up?”

Arms crossed tight against his chest, Austin pops a shoulder. “Tired as shit.”

“Yeah, I bet….” Bennett blows out a rough exhale.

The room’s real quiet. Real tense. To be fair to Austin, it hasn’t exactly been chipper in here since we arrived, save for a few funny moments, like when a nurse let out a loud fart in the hallway just outside the room and the three of us devolved into a fit of childish giggles.

Finally, Bennett glances around and suggests going on the hunt for another chair and Denny gestures toward his. “I’ve sat more in the last twenty-four hours than ever before. You can have my chair, old man.”

“Might be old, but I can still kick your ass six ways to Sunday,” Bennett mumbles but accepts the open seat.