For the first time since coming back home, I saw Cole falter, his stoic facade fading. “I… I had to take care of the ranch…”
“Fuck you and your excuses,” I snapped, still glaring. “I was a child. Who was taking care ofme?”
Cole’s face shifted, a mix of confusion and something else I couldn’t quite place. He stepped down from the porch, coming closer to me with his hands slightly raised like he was approaching a spooked horse.
“Jesse, I didn’t?—”
“Save it,” I cut him off, turning back to my car. “I’m not here for your pity or your excuses. I’m here because I’m trying to make it up to Jack, to do right by him. For one year. That’s it. Then I’ll take my fund and you’ll never see me again, just like you’ve always wanted it.”
I grabbed another box from the backseat, my muscles protesting the weight. Even after a month, my hands were still bandaged and tender, each day adding another layer of blisters that never seemed to heal. But I gritted my teeth through thepain. I didn’t want to give Cole something else to rag on me about.
Cole stood up on the porch for a long moment, watching me struggle. Then, to my surprise, he moved forward and took the box from my arms.
“All these goin’ to your room?” he asked gruffly.
I blinked at him, thrown off by this small act of kindness. “I don’t need your help, Cole.”
“I know you don’t,” he said, his tone almost normal. “But I’m helpin’ anyway.”
There was no arguing with him. The man was a stubborn ass through and through. “Yeah. My room,” I replied at last.
Cole and I worked in silence for nearly twenty minutes, carrying boxes into the house and up to my room. It felt surreal having him help me, especially after our argument. The weird truce between us was fragile, and I was afraid to say anything that might break it.
When the last box was stacked against the wall of my childhood bedroom, Cole lingered in the doorway, his hat in his hands. I pretended to be busy organizing things, not wanting to acknowledge whatever moment was happening between us.
“Jesse,” he finally said, his voice unusually quiet. “I never thought about it that way.”
I looked up, surprised by the admission. “What way?”
“That you were just a kid when your mom died.” He twisted his hat in his hands, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I was eighteen, and Dad stopped working and everything fell on my shoulders. The ranch, the finances, all of it. I guess I never stopped to think about what you were going through.”
I didn’t know how to respond. After years of anger and resentment, I wasn’t prepared for anything resembling an apology from Cole Nelson. Not yet.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said, turning back to my boxes.
“It does matter,” he insisted. “What you said... about the ranch hands. What did they say to you?”
I let out a hollow laugh. “You really want to know? After all this time?”
Cole’s jaw tightened, but he nodded.
“Faggot. Queer. Fairy. Take your pick.” I met his eyes, challenging him to look away. “Every day after school, walking home from the bus. Whispers when I’d walk by the bunkhouse. Notes shoved in my saddle.”
Cole’s face darkened. “Who?”
“Does it matter? They don’t even work here anymore.” I shrugged, trying to act like it didn’t still hurt.
“I should have known,” he muttered. “I should have done something.”
“You were busysavingthe ranch,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Like you said.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. Through the window, I could see the sun finally rising fully above the horizon.
“Evelyn’s got breakfast ready,” Cole finally said. “Whenever you’re done up here.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. After he left, I sat heavily on the edge of the bed. My same old bed, with the same quilt my mother had made before she died. The room was exactly as I’d left it, like a museum exhibit of my teenage years. Dad hadn’t changed a thing, not even after I’d been gone for over a decade.
I wondered if he’d come in here sometimes, looking at the posters on the walls, the books on the shelves, remembering the boy who’d left without saying goodbye. The thought made my chest ache, but there was anger behind it too. Why did he abandon me? Why did he abandon Cole too? What kind of father does that to his children?
