Page 97 of We Drank the Dawn

I clenched my jaw, remembering when he kicked me out of his house. Despite the way I burned with humiliation when I thought of it, I knew the truth: Dad wouldn’t have done that unless he loved me. “He’s a great dad. I take all the things he’s done for me for granted most of the time.”

“Most of us don’t recognize the good things we have.”

“You know what’s funny though?”

“What?”

“Even though I have a great dad, I’m afraid to be a father, too.”

Cooper gave a soft huff.

“Because of my chemo, if Sarah and I want kids, we have to do IVF which is an unimaginable amount of steps you would not even believe. All of which will be physically hard on Sarah. Knowing the risks, she’s wanted to do it for a long time, but I…” I shrugged, feeling small, and wondering why I was telling Cooper all this. “I don’t know, I just put it off out of fear, I guess. I wanted to make sure we had enough savings in the bank account, a comfortable enough house, and established enough careers. I think I knew something bad was going to happen, but I didn’t know what, so I kept delaying. She was so patient…” I swallowed, hating that my honesty made me sound like a coward. “What’s crazy is that after everything we’ve been through, she still wants to do it. But I cannot imagine being a father. I can hardly even take care of myself. Sarah will need a strong partner and I’m just…not.”

Cooper hummed, mulling that over. “Is that why you didn’t go after her?”

The question felt like a bullet shot point-blank at my chest, tearing straight through me. The way I swallowed hurt my throat and I averted my face. “There were a lot of reasons.”

“It was weird to me that you stayed in the fifth wheel while she drove off.”

I nodded, working my jaw and remembering the way my cheek had stung with humiliation. “It was a long time coming, I think.”

Cooper smoked quietly for a minute then said, “You know, I once met a cowboy on the rodeo circuit. His name was Terry Hughes and he was a bronc rider. Pretty good, too. Maybe not like raking in the cash and climbing the ranks good, but he always had a decent ride. And he was blind. He would tumble into the dust and pop up with a smile.” He drew a breath through his teeth. “They interviewed him after he retired and he said the first time he climbed on a horse he almost pissed himself but the more he did it, the freer he felt. And then, the first time a bronc threw him into the air, he said it felt like flying. Man, I thought he was badass. I’ve always wanted to fly.”

I didn’t respond—couldn’t. I would do anything to have that kind of courage.

“All that to say,” he continued, “there’s nothing you can’t learn how to do. I’m sure being a dad feels more intimidating than jumping on a horse, but the takeaway is the same.”

I smiled at that. “But this doesn’t apply to you?”

“Nah.” I heard the smile in his voice, too. “I’m a different kind of broken. But you are a Thompson and that alone could take you pretty damn far.”

He was right and I knew it. Despite everything I had faced as a child, my parents gave me a launching pad most people could only dream about. They had poured everything into keeping me alive and giving me every chance they thought I deserved. And look what became of their hard work—my dad’s especially.

I’d essentially taken every gift Dad gave me and threw it back in his face. When he’d dedicated so much of his time and finances to my life, I decided I didn’t want to live anymore. No wonder he was disappointed in me. A deep ache settled in my chest as I remembered the Sunday afternoons he would come out to the driveway and shoot baskets with Ben and me. His headset in his semi truck was always paired, ready for a phone call from his children.

For a few minutes, we just sat in silence while Cooper finished his smoke. Finally, once he tapped it out on the bench of the picnic table, he stood and said, “Thanks for talking to me.”

“No problem.” I stood too.

“Sorry for choking you out.” He gave a rough laugh. “I’ll try not to do it again.”

“That’d be great.”

Coop went back into the tent and crawled into his sleeping bag and so did I. Gingerly, I rested my head on the pillow, surprised by how much my neck hurt. But, sleep evaded me. It was almost four in the morning, and I couldn’t turn off my brain. What if Cooper had actually killed me? And the last thing Callum Thompson remembered about me was throwing me off his couch?

Before I could stop myself, I lifted my sleeping bag over my head, brought my phone to my lips, and whispered, “Siri, text Dad.”

Me

When you get time, can you call me?

The next morning I woke up to a missed call.

THIRTY-THREE

Peter

All day, I wanted to call my dad back, but between oversleeping, helping Cooper load the sheep, and the drive back to Meadowbrook, there just hadn’t been a chance to break away. As soon as we parked the truck and trailer, another wave of tasks hit us. I blinked, and it was dinner time. More hungry than I’d ever been in my life, I scarfed down food which made my eyes droop and my limbs feel heavy.