Marlena tips her chin back at him and walks past to the kitchen island, where she sets the tupperware down and shifts Cal to her other hip.
"You all right, sweetheart?" she asks me, low.
"I'm fine."
"You look tired."
"I made brisket."
"That's not what I asked."
I look up at her.
She has Phantom's quietness about her—the way she can ask you a thing without pushing it, the way she can leave space for you to answer or not answer.
She's the closest thing I've got to a friend on this ranch, and I've known that since week three when she walked me through how the bunkhouse pantry worked without making me feel stupid for not knowing.
I don't say anything and she doesn't push it.
She bounces Cal on her hip and looks at me and says, low enough that the man at the head of the table can't quite hear it, "You know that man would die for you, right?"
I open my mouth and close it quickly. "Who?" I say. Stupidly. Buying time.
Marlena gives me a flat look. "Hadley."
I put down the dishrag.
She steps closer. Cal puts his chubby fist in her hair and yanks.
She doesn't even react. "He talks about you to Phantom more than he knows. Doesn't say much, never has—but Phantom can read him better than Rogue thinks. You're allowed to be happy, sweetheart. Whoever that man at the end of that ring is, he'd be the first one to tell you so."
My hand goes to the gold band on my finger before my brain catches up.
"How do you?—"
"Same answer. Rogue told Phantom what your husband's name was and Phantom tells me everything."
I look across the kitchen at the dining room.
Rogue is still at the head of the table.
He's staring at his coffee cup.
I'd bet money he can hear every word.
Marlena pats my arm. Soft. The way a sister would. Then she takes Cal and the empty tupperware and goes out the screen door, and the screen door bangs shut behind her, and I'm alone in the bunkhouse with Rogue at the head of the table staring at his empty coffee cup.
He stands up.
He puts the hat on, adjusts it, picks up his cup, and brings it to the kitchen island, and he sets it down on the counter beside me.
Not in the sink. On the counter. Like a man who didn't quite know what to do with his hands.
"You did good tonight, Hadley."
"Thank you."
"The brisket was somethin' else."
