Cody
I’ve been up since three thirty.
Finished the morning hunt and dropped off clients at the lodge for lunch. Now they’re packing their stuff and we’re headed back to the airport. I’ll be waiting there for a little until the next group gets in.
My body’s running on autopilot, but my mind’s stuck back at home. On the fight. On Karissa.
I keep replaying it over and over, the way she snapped, the way I snapped, the way I walked out and let the door close harder than I meant to. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I definitely shouldn’t have joked about sex like it was a fix-it button. She was crying out for help and I didn’t show any empathy, I just gave her a hard-ass pep talk about powering through. Like a rookie. Iama rookie, but I don’t want to be.
I can take guys out to shoot birds, make ’em want to book another hunt with us. I can pull a trailer through a muddy field in the dark, fix a busted blind with nothing but zip ties and a pocketknife. I can run full days on three hours of sleep, soaked to the bone, hands numb, back aching, and still get up the next morning and do it again.
But last night, I couldn’t even figure out how to talk to my wife.
I left a note this morning, before I left. Something dumb like, “I won’t be home until late but I promise we’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Of course I told her I still loved her too. Part of me feels like it was a stupid move because she hasn’t texted me at all, and I guess I thought she would. It would make me feel less like a jackass if she did.
But here I am, coming in the house at 10 p.m., clicking the door shut behind me as soft as I can manage. The lights are off, except the one above the sink; we always leave that one on. Emma’s bedroom door is shut, and I hear her sound machine just beyond it.
I drop my keys in the dish by the door, toe off my boots, and step inside. The kitchen is spotless, which can be rare. The dishwasher is humming and my note’s still on the counter, but it’s not where I left it. Which means she had to have read it.
My chest tightens when I see her curled up on the couch. A blanket is pulled up to her shoulders, the monitor and her phone charging on the coffee table. Like this was planned, like she meant to sleep here. Didn’t want to sleep next to me.
It isn’t until I get closer that I see the mascara marks on her pillow she took from our bed. I spin my hat around backwards and kneel down beside her. I hesitate but then brush her hair away from her face. She stirs a little but doesn’t open her eyes.
“Baby,” I whisper.
She hums in response, half asleep.
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t respond, but her eyes peel open slowly, tired and red.
I slide one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and lift her carefully. “Come on.”
“I don’t want to,” she murmurs, voice scratchy.
“I know,” I whisper back. “But you need to.”
I ease her down onto the bed, steadying her as she sits there. She looks…lost. Like she doesn’t know what to say, or maybe like she has nothing to say.
“I know we’re not on good terms right now. We need to talk, and I promise, tomorrow night we will. We’ll figure this out,” I say gently, because I don’t want her to think I’m mad. I’m not. I’m mad at myself for how this all escalated.
She nods, understanding, and then reaches for the blankets.
“I love you,” I remind her, leaning down and pressing my lips to her forehead.
“I love you too,” she states. Which is the best thing I’ve heard all day.
* * *
After another successful day of hunting, I’m looking forward to the evening with Karissa.
Dad and Jesse cornered me earlier, saying I was so off yesterday. They practically had to beat it out of me before I admitted Karissa and I weren’t doing the best. I told them we had plans to talk later, and of course Jesse took it one step further, suggesting I should ask someone to watch Emma so we’d have no distractions.
Naturally, before I could even finish asking, Addison was already agreeing. Knowing her and that boldly passionate love she’s got for babies, she’s bound to have a honeymoon baby. And Wesley? He’ll just agree. Guy doesn’t stand a chance at saying no to her.
It’s not easy raising a baby. Starting off marriage with one right out of the gate like I did was a sharp learning curve. If I had it my way, my advice to anyone getting married would be simple—Wait a little. Enjoy the quiet first.
Karissa’s in the shower, and I’m getting the diaper bag together so I can take Emma to Addison’s.
