Cord shrugged. "I left. And didn't come back."
Until now.
13
Back on the No Name later that evening, Cord hauled debris away from the barn's rotted corpse, separating it into two piles.
He'd watched enough HGTV to know that there were some crazy folks who would like the weathered wood that had come from the destroyed barn. So he was tossing the best pieces into his truck bed, separating them from the broken and rotted. Those, he tossed in a huge pile away from anything else. He'd put a torch to them when he got done in a few days.
The sun had gone down an hour ago, and he worked in the glare of the headlights from his truck. His breath fogged the air in front of him, and the cold air scalded his lungs. His muscles pulled and burned hot at the exertion.
He welcomed the physical work.
After visiting Iris's place with Molly, he felt raw, exposed. Unsettled.
He'd needed space.
He hadn't gone over there intending to lay his past out for Molly. Had never wanted Molly to know about Noah, about his part in the events of that day.
Just remembering made him feel sick to his stomach.
Noah hadn’t been able to forgive him back then. He hadn’t spoken a single word when Cord had showed up at the hospital to beg. Now he’d apparently shut himself away from everyone. A recluse, Iris had called him. What kind of life was that?
Cord didn’t deserve forgiveness. He might’ve been a dumb kid—they all had—but that didn’t excuse him. He’d known better. He just hadn’t argued enough.
One good thing had come out of the visit. Iris had taken in the mama cat and kittens and promised to find good homes for them. That was one less problem on Cord's plate.
On the ride back, Molly had been quiet, reserved. She still hadn't opened up about what had caused her crying jag earlier, about what was plaguing her.
He didn't know how to reach her. Talking about the past had been a blatant reminder that he'd ruined the relationships that meant the most to him. What did he think he could do to help Molly?
What a joke.
Now he was sweating through his coat, his muscles sore and aching from the work.
He tossed an armful of good wood into the truck bed and let his gloved hand rest on the cold metal side. His head fell back.
He'd forgotten what the stars looked like, way out here in the sticks. In Houston, there was too much light, too much pollution to see clearly.
There was no comparing the city sky to this one. Each star sparkled like a tiny diamond against a velvet background. Seemed he could reach out and touch them, if he tried.
As a teen, watching the stars had been a way to escape. How many nights had he and West lay on top of their sleeping bags in the bed of Mackie's truck and talked, looking up at the sky? Too many.
You still want out? Iris's words from earlier played in his head.
Heck yes, he did.
He could feel the clock ticking. The mortgage payment was due in a week. Molly'd made good progress with the tractors. Two out of the five were running and just needed a paint job. They were waiting on Rick to come through with more parts. He'd promised to have them in sometime in the next forty-eight hours. Molly seemed sure she could rebuild the other three engines over the weekend. Rick had already contacted his friend who collected antiques in Honey Bend. She was ready to buy the tractors without the paint job, and her price seemed fair.
Was it going to work, even if he and Molly could pull it off? So far, few buyers had shown interest. The tractors would cover the mortgage payment, but that would only float him one more month to find a buyer.
A buyer who would no doubt lowball him because of the state of the house and barn—lack thereof, thanks to the fallen tree. What Cord really needed was another six months. Or three years. To do right by the house, put in a new barn, fix all the fencing, not to mention the drainage problem in the west pasture—the same swampy mess that'd existed when he was a teenager.
Knowing how fickle the ranching business could be, it might take a lifetime to bring the ranch back to its glory days.
And time was what he didn't have. The bid for the Howard job in Houston was exactly two days after the mortgage payment was due.
He needed to be in Houston. He had a life there.
Don't you mean a job? Iris's words from earlier.
He had a life in Houston. It was just... disconnected. He didn't have close friends.
Being back in Sutter's Hollow wasn't better. There were a lot of things to hate about this town.
Putting gas in his truck while he got the side-eye from a middle-aged man who'd been a parent back then. Feeling the same shame when he drove past the tiny county courthouse where his life had unraveled. Out here on the No Name, he could feel Mackie's disdain and belief that he'd never amount to anything.
Molly was the only thing that made it bearable. Molly, who cooked for him even though he told her not to. Who played guitar, but only in her room when she thought he was outside. Who smiled behind her coffee mug every morning when he tasted her coffee. Who made him so crazy he couldn't see straight.
He couldn't stay here. But maybe she would go with him. To Houston.
He got in the truck and tossed his gloves on the seat beside him. Fired up the engine and slowly made his way up the rutted path toward the house.
Molly had the place lit up like a Christmas miniature. She must’ve turned every light in the house on.
His stomach grumbled. He'd pushed well past suppertime, and she'd
