“When I broke my wrist, he drove hundreds of miles to cook and clean for me for a week. When Kim died, he couldn’t get here until two days after the funeral because of work but he busted his ass to get here. He had only three days off and he didn’t sleep a wink in those days due to driving and spending time looking after me. And when I found out about Xenia, I couldn’t hold myself up and Ham was right down on the kitchen floor with me, holding me in his arms while I cried.”
I leaned forward and batted his knee with my hand before I leaned back, but through all this, I held his eyes.
“He’s not my dad, Cotton. He’s a big man who’s worked in bars his whole life so he’s got a look about him that you just don’t mess with him. But he got that through his profession. He doesn’t practice it in life.”
“Max likes him,” Cotton told me, sounding peeved, like he didn’t want to admit that.
But that was when I knew that Max also had reservations about Ham, maybe because of the way he looked, maybe Nina had shared some of our history, and that was why Max was cautious at first at The Rooster.
But Ham had won Max over and Max had shared this with Cotton.
“Give him a chance. There’s a lot to like,” I assured Cotton.
“He gonna give me that chance or is he gonna blow town and leave you again but leavin’ you this time maybe with a boy to raise?” Cotton asked.
“You know, I love you all the more because you care enough to bring me out here and have this talk, even if your honesty is off-base. But Ham’s stayin’,” I replied and Cotton’s eyes grew shrewd.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“And how are you sure?”
“Because he told me.”
“Girl—”
I scooted across the boulder to get closer to him and once there, I leaned in farther.
“He loves me, Cotton.”
“He tell you that?”
I felt my chin jerk back.
He hadn’t.
Ham had never said that.
He showed it, all the time.
But he’d never said it.
Not when he talked about committing to Gnaw Bone, committing to me. Not while we were cozied up, watching TV. Not during sex. Not cuddling after sex prior to falling asleep.
Not ever.
“You got a whale of a fight on your hands, darlin’,” Cotton said and I focused on him again. “Choose who you got in the corner of your ring wisely. You take on a child, your life becomes about that child and it’s harder to take life’s knocks when they hit
“Ham’s a good guy,” I whispered.
“I believe you,” Cotton replied. “But a good guy and good for you are two different things, Zara.”
It was getting on my nerves when people made sense when they were talking about Ham even when I knew deep down they had no clue what they were talking about.
“I’m suddenly rethinking being your camera-bag-lugging girl,” I shared in order to express this and he grinned. It didn’t quite catch his eyes but he did it.
“Truth hurts. Then again, it also sets you free,” he stated. “Talk to your man and make sure his head is where you need it to be. You get that boy away from your daddy’s family, you gotta teach him to look after himself and the best way to do that is by example.”
“Ham’ll win you over,” I promised.
“Not me he’s gotta win,” Cotton returned. “But I’ll take it, though only after I know he’s pulled out all the stops to win you.”
That was sweet but I felt my eyes narrow. “How can you be scary, nosy, irritating, and lovable all at the same time?”
Cotton grinned even as he shrugged. “It’s just me.”
It was and had been since Alana died.
“You gonna take pictures or is there more of my world you wanna rock?” I asked, being flippant in the face of sudden uncertainty.
“I’m gonna take pictures but only after I say one more thing.”
I looked to the blue skies and muttered, “Great.”
“Zara,” Cotton called.
I looked at him.
“Alana was like you,” he said quietly and I pulled in a breath because, from Cotton, this was the highest of compliments. “She was young but old at heart. She knew what she wanted and God smiled His Heavenly light on me when she found that in me. Never happier in my life than when I had her, not before, absolutely not after. The age we had between us never touched us, not with the love we had. Her parents didn’t like it but she didn’t care. The day I won them over, I reckon, was the day she died. They’d watched me stick by her side through the better but mostly through the worse. This man of yours is who you think he is, I see you think you got that, too. And, if this man is who you think he is, I couldn’t be happier for you.”
“Now you’re tippin’ the scales, Cotton,” I kept up with my flippancy, this time in order not to cry. “You’re supposed to balance lovable and grumpy. Now you’re bein’ way more lovable than grumpy.”
He sucked back more coffee, then handed me his cup, stating, “Then you best get off your keister, girl. There’s mountains to climb and pictures to take.”
I looked again to the skies and repeated, “Great.”
“Up,” he grunted, shoving up to his feet.
I sucked back my coffee and followed him.
Then I followed him through the scrub and rocks and boulders and I did this successfully not falling down the side of the mountain or, less dramatically, twisting my ankle.
And Cotton showed me beauty.
It was what I knew it would be, a marvel watching a master at work even if it was simply watching a man snap pictures.
That didn’t mean I didn’t do it with my mind weighed heavily with thoughts about what he said.
This sucked, shadowing a great morning.
But Ham and I had never finished talking about his history, his problems with women. So much had happened since then—we’d been involved with Zander, Xenia dying, work, and settling into life together—we never got back to it.
And he’d never told me he loved me. I’d told him he was the love of my life, but he never shared anything close to that sentiment. Not with words.
And I’d learned the hard way with how I grew up, with the way Xenia went off the rails, that Cotton was right.
I had to look after myself.
Which meant I had to talk to Ham.
I sat on the couch in Ham’s office at The Dog, my legs crossed under me.
After my early morning in the mountains with very little sleep and an evening on my feet carrying drinks, I was dog-tired. There was nothing I wanted more than to fall into bed and sleep until tomorrow where I could go back to work and make more tips in hopes of using them to win my sister’s son into my life.
But my eyes were on Ham at his desk. He was standing, bent over the desk scribbling stuff in books and shoving money in moneybags he’d put in the safe when he was done cashing out completely. And it occurred to me that, unless we were in bed or Ham was stretched out watching TV, he rarely sat. Years of life working on his feet, he was used to it and kept them, probably out of habit.
“Tell me about February.”
