I slip my hand past her panties, and she sighs under my touch. My lips find her belly button, and she moans as I drag a finger through her.
“I think—”
Her words are cut off by my phone ringing.
Sitting up quickly, I grab it and answer. “Hello?”
“Cooper, you need to come home right now,” Fletcher says.
My heart drops, and I hurry over to my shoes.
“What’s going on?” Mae asks.
“Something’s wrong, Fletcher called, I have to get home.”
Mae hops up, following me to the door. “Go, I hope everything is okay. Call me later?”
“Yeah,” I say and kiss her quickly before running out the door and gunning it to the ranch.
Chapter 27
Cooper
Heartinmythroatand the absolute worst possible outcomes run through my head.
Did Naomi fall? Is she hurt?
Did Rebekah hurt herself and scare Naomi?
Is Rebekah okay?
Did Rebekah get fed up and leave Naomi on her own?
Any of it is possible, and I mentally slap myself across the face for leaving the ranch at all.
Gunning it up the gravel driveway to my house, I find my whole family standing outside.
I skid to a stop and throw the truck into park, launching myself out the door.
Fletcher is holding Naomi while Tatum talks to her. Tears stream down my daughter’s face, and Ledger is holding June back with both of his hands on her shoulders. And my aunt and uncle are speaking with Rebekah, who is also crying.
“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” I say roughly and force myself to rein it in. I don’t need to scare Naomi anymore than she already is.
“Talk to her,” June spits, pointing at Rebekah.
I take a deep breath and climb up the stairs to the porch, and Uncle Mason looks like he’s barely holding it in while Aunt Dixie just looks at me sadly.
“We’ll give you two a minute,” Uncle Mason says, guiding his wife with him.
“Rebekah?” I ask, and don’t miss the fact that her bag is at her feet.
“Naomi started freaking out. I don’t know why, then she was screaming, and then June came in and she went off and…” Rebekah trails off and shakes her head.
“I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” she says, grabbing her bag and hustling down the stairs to her car.
A calm, deep rage settles over my shoulders. Sure, I could yell at her. Sure, I could call her a terrible mother, but I don’t. Instead, I watch her leave because right here and now, the other shoe has dropped, and that’s the end of it. We’re not doing this again.
Rebekah drives away without hesitation, and we all watch in silence as she disappears down the drive.
