wound clean, when to change the dressing, and how to manage the pain.
Her stomach growled, but she didn’t think she had the physical strength to stand up. She watched Trey crouch down and say something to TJ, who nodded. He cared about her son; she could see it right there on his face. Then he stepped over to her and said, “I’m going to go get you both something to eat. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
“You don’t need—”
“If you say I don’t need to do that one more time, I’m going to go nuclear,” he said, his mouth pressing together into a thin line afterward. He glared at her, and Beth finally nodded. “Thank you,” Trey said, his voice terse.
He turned away from the bed and left the room, his shoulders strong and his step sure. She wondered what it would be like to always know exactly what she was doing, with exactly who, and exactly how.
The last two and a half years had been nothing but failure after failure, and the familiar desperation clogged her throat. Even more familiar were the tears that came to her eyes. “Come here, baby,” she said to TJ, who climbed up into the bed with her and snuggled into her right side. “Were you over at Bluegrass again today?”
“Just for a minute, Momma,” he said, his voice somber and quiet. “Trey said I could work with him for an hour. We was comin’ to ask you permission.”
“It’s were,” she said, letting her eyes drift closed. “It’s we were coming to ask you permission.”
“We were comin’ to ask you permission,” TJ repeated. He was the sweetest child, and Beth loved him dearly.
“You can’t go over to Bluegrass, baby,” she whispered.
“Trey said if you said I could, then I could.”
“I’m tellin’ you right now, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Those cowboys have a lot to do over there,” she said. “You can’t get in their way.” She didn’t believe for a single second that Trey wanted her five-year-old as a shadow for even an hour. He was just being nice, because Trey Chappell was the kindest man she’d ever known.
“But Momma—”
“Don’t talk back to me, baby,” she said. “That’s that.”
TJ huffed, but he didn’t argue again. Relief filled Beth, and she enjoyed the steady beeping of the machines. They meant she was alive, and she thanked the Lord that He hadn’t taken her and left TJ an orphan.
He’d already taken Danny, and both God and Danny had left Beth with a mess of snakes disguised as a ranch. She sighed as she pressed against the anger and bitterness that had accompanied her around Dixon Dreams since the day she’d found out the ranch was in debt up to the rafters, and Danny had known and not told her.
“All right,” Trey said, and Beth opened her eyes. “I’ve got a cheeseburger and fries for you, little man. Come over here and eat now.”
Beth smiled at Trey as he smiled at her son. She liked how he put “now” on the end of a lot of sentences. He sounded very Southern when he did, and he sure did have the gentlemanly manners down too.
He looked at her. “I got you the chicken parm sandwich. Salt and vinegar chips, because I’ve seen those on your counter before and know you like them.” He put a bag on the wheeled tray and pushed it over to her. “They wouldn’t let me bring in the soda, so I took it back out to the car. You’ll need the caffeine once you get home.” He grinned at her, and Beth wanted to pull him into a hug and tell him how grateful she was for him.
She said, “Thank you,” instead and ate her dinner.
He ate a double bacon cheeseburger and all of his fries, cleaned up, and said, “I’ll go check on where we’re at.” Trey left to do that, and Beth closed her eyes and prayed.
“Thank you for sending Trey Chappell.”
He came back a few minutes later, all of the paperwork in his hand. “You’ve got to sign, and I can take you home. They’re filling your prescription now; we can get it on the way out.”
She signed with her right hand while he held the clipboard, and then he took it all back out to the nurses.
He helped her to the truck; he drove through the pharmacy pick-up window and got her pain medication; he put TJ in the bathtub when they all got back to the farmhouse.
Beth sat on her