Cole (13 page)

Chapter 28

Kensington

A long, hard workout in the arena had been what I needed. Bentley too. He’d been in his stall for two straight days and was full of vinegar when I took him out. The horse’s energy and my determination to push Cole from my head, at least for an hour in the saddle, made for a good ride.

I slowed Bentley to a walk to cool him off. A foamy lather covered his neck, and my back was drenched as well. I glanced up at the house. Dad was walking out toward the arena. I circled around one more time and climbed off Bentley’s back. We reached the gate just as Dad opened it for me. His mouth was pulled tight, and he looked a bit pale.

“Dad, you look like you’re in pain.” I was beginning to worry that there was more to this than just massive indigestion. But I’d decided not to bring it up. I didn’t want to upset Mom. Dad was seeing a doctor this week, and that had alleviated some of my concern.

“Yes, that’s what I was coming out to tell you. That east coast customer, that big restaurant co-op, is supposed to call in the next half hour. I gave the assistant your cell phone number. I decided to move my doctor’s appointment up, and they had a cancelation this morning. I’m just not feeling myself.”

It was the first time he’d indicated that he too thought it might be something more than indigestion. A thick knot of worry filled my throat.

“Oh, Kensie, don’t look like that. I’m fine. Just starting to feel the ravages of middle age and too much good living, I’m sure.”

“I’ll go with you. I can drive.”

“No, don’t be silly. I’m a grown man. Besides, I need you here to take care of business.”

He walked with me into the barn aisle. I put on Bentley’s halter and hooked him in the cross ties to unsaddle him.

Dad sat on the blanket trunk in the barn aisle. The grim line on his mouth had softened, and it made me relax some. “Can’t help but notice that you’re not your usual sunshiney self, Kensie. Is it because of Cole? I know I’m just an old man with a completely biased opinion, and firm in my belief that no one is ever going to be good enough for my little girl, but it seems as if you cared for this boy. At least more than any of the others.”

“I did think he was going to be different, and I definitely liked him. But I’m just a little off because of it. I’ll be fine. My main concern is you feeling better. What time is your appointment?”

He lifted his arm to look at his watch and stood up. “I should be leaving in a few minutes. Don’t forget that the customer will be calling soon. I faxed him the price lists earlier. He said they still had some questions.” He headed out of the barn.

“I’ll be waiting to hear what the doctor says. And remember to ask questions,” I called to him.

My phone rang the second Dad walked out. I’d left the phone in the office and raced inside to answer it. I assumed it was the east coast customer and hadn’t taken the time to look at the screen. “Hello, this is Kensington of Modante Winery.”

“Hello, Kensington of Modante Winery.”

His voice made a flutter of nerves shoot through me, and I hated that I’d reacted like that. I was supposed to not give a damn, but just hearing his familiar, deep voice had shaken me.

“Cole, I can’t talk right now. I’m expecting a call.”

“I just want a chance to explain the whole thing. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for one damn second, Kensington. It’s not about a bet. It was never about a bet. Let’s talk and then if you still feel the same way, I’ll just walk away a broken man. You won’t have to see me or talk to me again.”

I paused, not to decide, but to slow my heart rate some. I wasn’t quite ready to give up on him yet. I just hoped I wouldn’t regret it. “All right.”

“Great. I’ll meet you at The Grind, the coffee shop on River St. at three o’clock.”

“Make it four o’clock.”

“Four o’clock. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.” I hung up and stared at the phone before sliding it into my pocket. My gritty resolve to not see him again had turned to mush the second he said hello. Hearing Cole’s voice had been all I needed. I wanted to talk to him again. As I stepped out of the office, I heard a harsh, guttural sound that was not horse or anything else I’d ever heard. It had come from outside the barn. I walked to the doorway and peered out.

Dad was on the ground writhing in pain. My heart leapt into my throat. “Dad!”

I raced to him. His skin was clammy white, like cold paste, and he was clutching his chest. I pulled out my phone and dropped to my knees next to him. I dialed emergency services but could barely catch my breath or stop crying long enough to talk. “Hello, please help. I think my dad is having a heart attack.”

Chapter 29

Cole

The work site was ready for the first massive cement pour in the morning. It would be a long, stressful day, so we shut down early to go home for the night and get psyched up for tomorrow. I’d gone straight in to shower. I hadn’t told Denver, and especially not Rodeo, that I was going to meet up with Kensington. I was feeling a little like a sap. I’d never gone after a girl like this. But I hadn’t ever been with a girl like Kensington either. She was worth going against my usual principals and male pride.

Rodeo was leaning against the kitchen doorway shoveling down a leftover slice of pizza as I walked through the house. “Where are you going so shined up?”

“What are you, my mother? I’ll be back later. Are we going to practice?”

Rodeo raised the half-eaten pizza slice. “That’s why I’m fueling up.”

Denver came out of the kitchen with a soda. He glanced at me and nodded, which meant he’d figured it out. Denver never needed a lot of clues to piece things together.

I walked out the door and climbed into my truck. The coffee shop was only a few miles back toward the job site. More than once after I’d talked to Kensington, I’d tried to figure out just what I would say to her, but I decided it would all sound too rehearsed. Nix had advised me to tell her how I felt, and that’s what I was planning to do, lay bare my soul and let her know that I’d been thinking about her every minute of every day. And none of it had to do with a bet. Then, just like Nix had said, it was up to her. If she wasn’t interested, then I would just have to leave it alone. Kensington was a woman who knew her own mind, and if she’d already talked herself out of this, then there wasn’t much I could do.

I pulled into the coffee shop. Four o’clock wasn’t prime time for a coffee. I was glad to see only a few cars in the lot. Kensington’s car wasn’t there yet. I walked in and bought a water bottle. After the hot, dry day on the job site, water was the only thing that sounded good. I headed to a table in the back corner that had a view of the parking lot. I wasn’t completely sure why I’d picked a coffee shop except I didn’t want to meet her at my house with the guys lurking around. Sitting in a hot car trying to apologize for being an asshole didn’t seem like the best plan of action either. The more I thought about it, the more I thought making a bet about a girl was a completely jerk move. Sometimes Rodeo and I seemed to be in a contest to see which one of us could be a bigger asshole, but accepting the bet without even thinking about the woman on the other end of it had put me right at the top of the douchebag heap. I’d had Finley lecture me more than once that I needed to think more about the feelings of the women I dated. I knew she was right, but it had been more fun to ignore her words and push empathy out of my head. In short, I’d been acting like the son of a rock star. I’d inherited plenty of my old man’s good genes along with some of the bad ones.

Kensington had been different than all the other women. It had been the slap upside my head that I needed. I had no idea if our little meeting in the coffee shop would restore things to the way they were, but I had to give it a go. She was too incredible to let just slip out of my life without so much as a good-bye.

A car pulled into the lot, dragging my attention to the front window. It wasn’t her. I sank back against the seat and drank down the water. Just as I glanced at my phone to check the time, a call came through.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Cole, what are you up to?” His words were stretched, which meant he’d either had too much to drink or way too little sleep. From the clamor of voices and music in the background, it was probably both. “Fin said you got hurt on the bike.”

“Nah. Fin’s a worry wart. What time is it there?”

“Don’t know. After midnight. But I’ve about had it here. I’m flying home Wednesday to rest. I’m thinking we need to have a barbecue while the weather is still summer-like. Rett could invite his friends.”

“That doesn’t sound like rest. That sounds like a continuation of partying like the one that’s practically drowning you out.”

“A few dozen people showed up to the hotel suite. Management will be fucking happy to see my bum walking out of here this week.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Coley? Everything all right? You don’t sound yourself.”

“Yep. It’s all good. I’m just tired. We’ve got the first foundation form up, and we’re pouring cement tomorrow.”

“That’s great. You know, I don’t tell you this enough, but I’m proud of you. You’re doing a great job with Kingston Construction.”

My dad was getting fatherly and sentimental, which meant he was homesick. “Thanks, Dad. Looking forward to seeing you when you get back.”

Out of the side of my eye, I saw two more cars pull into the parking lot. Neither of them was Kensington.

“I’ll let you go, Cole. I’ll ring you when I get back.”

“Have a safe flight back, Dad.”

“Love ya, Coley. Bye.”

Nicky King, legendary rock star, a man who the tabloids had dragged through the mud at least twenty times, a man who everyone had pegged as a notorious drug addict, a playboy, a dissolute musician with more money than he knew what to do with, always said love ya at the end of his call. None of the public’s perception of my dad mattered. Finley, Jude and I knew the real guy, and to us, he was just Dad. And a fucking awesome one at that.

I glanced at my phone again. It was twenty past four. There were no texts or messages from Kensington. Nix’s words kept bouncing through my head. Tell her how you feel, and if that doesn’t work, then it’s time to move on. On the way there, I’d gone through a few different scenarios as to how this coffee date would end. But there was one shitty scenario that hadn’t passed through my thick skull—the one where she didn’t even show.

Chapter 30

Kensington

It was one of those times in your life when everything became a blur and yet you knew you’d remember everything about the day—the weird sour smell of the emergency waiting room, the serious look on the triage nurse’s face as she watched the blood pressure gauge, the funny little man who kept stepping into the elevator and hopping back out.

Mom was busy shredding another tissue in her fingers, while I obsessed about all the warning signs my dad had exhibited, warning signs that we’d fluffed off as heartburn. Things like heart attacks or strokes or cancer were too scary to consider. It was always easier to find less vile reasons for not feeling well.

“It’s my fault,” my mom said in her usual attempt to place herself at the center of attention. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to eat all those steaks.” She sobbed into her tattered tissue, and I patted her shoulder.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, Mom. Besides, triple bypass surgery is as common as an appendectomy these days. You heard the doctor, Dad’s in good shape otherwise. He’ll come out of this better than ever.” She was the parent, but I was the one comforting her.

Of course, deep down, I was terrified at the thought of my dad being splayed open on an operating table. He’d only ever been in the hospital once before. It hadn’t been anything serious, just some tests for dizziness he’d been experiencing, but I had only been ten, and it had shaken me to my core. I could still remember sitting in my fifth grade classroom the day they were doing the tests. It had been like today, a blur, but with small details remaining crystal clear in the midst of it all. My teacher had been talking about the presidential election, and it had caused a heated debate in class. I was glad for the diversion. I’d lowered my head to my desk so no one could see my tears. Then Mike Little yelled out, ‘Hey Kensington is bawling’. I went home early that day, and Mom and I went to the hospital to wait with Dad for the results. He let me sit on his hospital bed, and we shared the milkshake we’d snuck in for him.

A nurse stepped into the waiting room. “Mrs. Modante?”

My mom nearly fell out of the chair. “Yes, what is it?” She was nearly shrieking, and I placed my hand on her arm to calm her.

“We’re wheeling Mr. Modante into surgery, and I thought you’d both like to see him first.”

Mom wasn’t one to move fast with anything. She considered abrupt movements unladylike and crass, but she shot out of her chair as if someone had lit a firecracker beneath her. That’s when it occurred to me—she was completely nuts about my dad. There were times when she’d roll her eyes at things he said, or she’d complain that he spent too much time at work or at golf or anything else she might see as an opportunity to nitpick. But, underneath it all, she still had a huge crush on the man. That’s what I wanted. I wanted a man who I could have a crush on even when he was being annoying or grumpy or turning gray and wrinkled.

A hospital bed was wheeled out of the room. Several nurses walked alongside it with I.V. bags and monitors. Everything about the face staring up from the pillow was familiar, but I couldn’t believe how small and frail my dad looked. It took me a second to gather myself, and I had to work hard to keep it together. I’d been spending a lot of time calming Mom’s fears about this very common procedure, but in truth, the thought that he could die on the table terrified me.

Dad was slightly drugged, and his eyes took a second to focus on my face as I leaned down over the bed. His hand had tubes sticking out of it, but I managed to grasp his fingers. That’s when it hit me, I wasn’t always going to have my parents. How was that possible? Why was life set up so you came to depend wholly on two people who would eventually leave you?

Tears beaded on my lashes, and I was thankful that Dad was out of it. Mom was next to me. She’d already started sobbing into her shredded tissue again.

“Kensie, take care of your mom. I’ll be fine. But if something happens, the important papers are—”

“Yeah, I know, Dad, you’ve told me all that before. Just stay strong, and we’ll see you in recovery.” My last words were shaky and that made my mom cry louder.

Dad lifted his head to get a view of her. I kissed him and stepped back so that my mom could move to his side. She leaned down over him and his arm went around her, comforting her, protecting her as he’d always done. All I could think was that my mom was the luckiest woman in the world.

I stood with my arm around my mom, and we watched as the hospital bed was wheeled through the double doors to surgery. We walked back to sit in the odd smelling waiting room and suffer the agonizing hours of worry while Dad went through his surgery.

“Mom, I’ll go down to the cafeteria and get us some coffees.”

She nodded. It was weird seeing her in this state of disarray. She rarely left the house without being perfectly put together—a look that required a good, long hour in her luxurious master bath and a vast array of expensive cosmetics. But she stood in the fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway with a bright red nose and lipstick that had smeared to just a few pink streaks on her lips. Mascara darkened the circles beneath her eyes. She looked completely lost. She looked like a woman who was heartbroken with worry over the man who’d been her soul mate for thirty years.

I hugged her. “I’ll be right back with the coffees.”

“Kensington,” she said so faintly I could barely hear her over the hospital clamor, “you’re such a good daughter.” We both broke into sobs as we stood in the hallway, hugging each other, scared to death that we might lose the man who’d always been the center of both our lives.