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Cal nodded but remained silent.
“I hear Bent’s home for the holidays. We were all so concerned about him.”
“Picking him up when I leave here.”
“That’s wonderful.” She eyed him over the top of the display case. “He still keeping company with that woman?”
Cal didn’t have to hear a name to know who she was talking about. “I don’t know,” he replied truthfully. That was a conversation he hadn’t yet had with his brother.
“Tell you what I do know.” Mrs. Winger made a noise and shook her head. “I hear you been keeping company with our Millie Sue.”
Startled at her direct way, he fumbled over an answer. “Well, we’ve always… I mean, I ran into her when I got back to town and uh……” he finished lamely.
“Did you now.” The older woman’s mouth was pursed tight, though her eyes were kind. “She’s had a rough go of it, with her daddy passing and the rest of it.”
Shame had Cal averting his gaze. Again, a conversation he hadn’t had with Millie. He’d made it back for the funeral, though no one knew but Ivy. For reasons he didn’t quite understand even now, he’d kept to himself and hidden at the back of the church, leaving before he’d been spotted.
“I was sad to hear about Dave.” And he was. For a time, the man had been like a father to Cal.
Mrs. Winger bagged up the order and walked to the till, where she handed it to Cal. “That girl is special.”
Again, the directness of her gaze was concerting. “She is.”
The two of them held eye contact for a few seconds, and then Mrs. Winger exhaled. “Well, you just make sure you treat her right this time around, Calvin, or I might have to get Ginny to ride on out to that ranch of yours and kick your butt to California.”
Before he had time to reply to that, she shooed him away. “I don’t want money—”
“But Mrs. Winger.” He reached into his pocket for cash.
“No buts. They’re on the house. Now go on and get your brother home to his baby. Nothing makes a person heal inside and out more than being home with family. I wish you a happy Thanksgiving. Please give my best to Bent.”
With that, he was ushered out of Sugar Kiss.
The early snow was still around, and his feet crunched over it as he jogged back to his truck. He waved at folks he knew, though no one else stopped him for a photo. Not surprising since folks around these parts didn’t seem to share the same opinion as the teenager from before. He was still a part of them. Still just a guy from Big Bend.
By the time he parked at the entrance to the hospital and made it up to the third floor, it was past four. He spied Mackenzie at the nurse’s station, head buried in her tablet.
“Hey,” he said, walking up to her.
“Hey yourself.” Her ponytail was coming undone, long wisps of hair around her neck, and there was a smattering of what looked like coffee stains on the front of her white jacket. Her expressive eyes seemed dull somehow, and he thought she looked tired.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, it will be.” Her voice was strained.
“What’s going on? Anything I can do?”
She blew out a long breath. “Nope. It’s just some days, the things I see. The things people do to other people is unforgiving. Normally, I have a box I put that stuff into and tuck it away for another time to process, but today, I can’t seem to do that. Not when there’re kids involved.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am too.” Mackenzie motioned toward Bent’s room. “Don’t worry about me. I’m leaving here in an hour, and I’ll be fine. But your brother is ready to go, and he’s chomping at the bit to get out of here. I’ve emailed you his care program, and a nurse will be stopping in every day to get his vitals, look at the incision on his scalp, and keep it clean, among other things. Don’t forget the bag of meds on the table in his room. I’ve also arranged for the pharmacy to auto-replenish as needed. You’ll have to bring him to your family doctor in two weeks for a checkup, but he’s doing great.”
“Thanks, Mack.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he tried.
“I’m glad you’re sticking around, Cal. Always nice when one of ours comes home.”
He walked into his brother’s room to find three nurses fussing over him. Dressed in a warm tracksuit, Benton was in a wheelchair, his right leg in a cast. His head, which had been shaved for surgery, was bare, and though he’d lost weight from his hospital stay, he looked better than he had only days earlier, despite black eyes and bruising along his right cheek.
