“Well, I had been thinking about doing Cheyenne, but I don’t think I’m going to make it. And I never did put a whole lot of serious thought into it. I won a couple of bigger events early in the spring so I’ve got my in with the NFR this year no matter what.” Finals Rodeo ranked people based on earnings throughout the year, so Cam must have done fine at the big stock shows, which almost always ran between January and March.
If he could take off most of Cowboy Christmas, which always came around the 4th of July, because that was when so many of the smaller rodeos happened in the Western world, and then skip Cheyenne? Cam was doing pretty well for himself.
That made Mitch feel better.
He shouldn’t have been so relieved by that idea, but he was. If Cam didn’t have to go running off to Frontier Days, then he wasn’t going to have to worry about healing up in two days just to make it so he could take care of the girls.
On the heels of that thought came the guilt, because he didn’t want Cam to have to stick around and take care of him like he was broke-dick or something.
“I can see almost every thought as it crosses your face, man. Stop worrying so much. It’s gonna be what it is.” Cam arched an eyebrow at him. “Once you’re back on your feet and able to do a few things, then my mom and her crew will come back and start helping out, and they’ll make sure the girls get to Girl Scouts and all that stuff.”
His jaw tightened, and he tried hard not to grind his teeth. “I don’t like being a charity case.”
Cam gave him a squinty-eyed stare. “You’re not a charity case. You just don’t have any family anymore, man. I may have so many that it makes me insane, and they may swarm around me like ants sometimes when I want them to leave me alone. But I always know I have a safety net if I fall. You don’t have that luxury, so everybody’s pitching in to give it to you. That’s all.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m trying to see it that way.”
“Hey, man, it’s cool. No one’s thinking ill of you. No one.”
Mitch snorted. “Are you sure? No one?”
He seriously doubted that.
Cam glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sure. Close your eyes. I’ll keep an eye on the girls.”
He sure hoped so because the pain pill was working on him, and his eyelids were heavy, so Mitch just relaxed into the brace, the constant sound of Nick Jr. on the TV soothing him to the bone.
Chapter Seven
Cam stared at his boxer briefs, socks, and T-shirts.
They were neatly folded and placed on the guest bed. They smelled like Tide.
They were pink.
Bright pink for the shirts and socks. Dull pink over the other colors for the undies.
And then there was his sponsor shirt. It had been red, with his sponsor names embroidered on it. Boot Barn. Priefert.
Now it was a washed-out pink as well.
A muscle ticced in his jaw, and he headed out to go talk to Mitch about the laundry situation.
Mitch was sitting at the kitchen table with Bekka, of all people. Two balls of yarn and two crochet hooks and an iPad showing a YouTube video on how to crochet between them, and both their heads were down as they crocheted.
Bekka grinned up at him as he came to the table. “Hey. I did your laundry and folded it. Would you like to learn how to crochet? Me and Daddy are.”
“Are you?” No, he wanted to talk to Mitch about not having people touch his laundry.
“Well, I think Bekka’s learning how to crochet, and I’m learning how to tie my fingers into knots. But yeah, it’s pretty cool.”
They both had a long string of knots. Mitch’s was short, about six inches long, while Bekka’s was closer to three feet.
“I think you’re doing great, Daddy. It looks really good. You should just practice.”
Mitch’s smile faded as Cam stared, shooting daggers with his eyes. “Yeah, I think I need a lot of practice. I don’t suppose you can go check on your sisters for me?”
She nodded, looking so grown-up. “I think Sarah’s trying to teach Rachel how to do witchcraft.”
