27. Aubrey

27

Aubrey

Here I am, perched at my little desk, which has become more of a magnet for random papers and stray coffee cups than a workspace. Every tiny sound is a siren call away from productivity.

And Luke, bless his heart, is behind me building what I can only describe as the eighth wonder of the toddler world with his blocks.

"Mommy, look!" he calls out, and how can I resist? I swing around, applauding his latest architectural masterpiece. "Wow, buddy, that's incredible!" But despite the pull of his infectious enthusiasm, the relentless tick of the clock reminds me I've got deadlines hanging over me.

Decision made, I scoop up my laptop and head for the door. "I'm thinking of heading to the coffee shop in town to try and knock out some work," I announce as I step into the living room. There's Sean, looking a little too cozy with his phone, but he perks up when he sees me.

"Need me to play king of the castle with Sir Luke while you're out?" Sean offers with a half-smile, though he's looking more like a knight after a jousting tournament.

"That would be awesome," I say, grateful for his backup. But there's a shadow of concern as I notice the weariness in his eyes. "Everything okay with you? You look a bit worn-out."

"Just the usual post-practice aches," he assures me, stretching out and wincing slightly—so subtle, I almost miss it. "Nothing that spending some quality time with my favorite little guy won't fix."

I pause, eyeing him a bit skeptically. "Alright, if you're sure. There’s mac and cheese in the fridge for his lunch.”

“We'll be fine, won't we, champ?” Sean’s enthusiasm spikes as he scoops up Luke, eliciting a cascade of giggles from the toddler.

"Be good for Uncle Sean," I call out as I leave, my heart a touch lighter knowing they'll have some quality time. But as I drive toward town, a part of me can't shake off the worry—Sean's nonchalance about his fatigue doesn't quite sit right.

I pull into the coffee shop parking lot, nabbing a great spot. Laptop ready, I march in, determined to conquer the mountain of work awaiting me. Yet, as I settle into a cozy corner with my coffee, part of my mind remains back at the ranch, tangled up in concern for Sean. Is everything really as fine as he claims?

I finally hit my stride, my fingers dancing across the keyboard like they're on fire. The coffee shop hums around me, a perfect backdrop of clinks and murmurs for my hyper-focused state. I'm in the zone, the words flowing, the strategies aligning. But even in this flow, Sean's weary face pops into my mind every so often. Was he really okay, or just putting on a brave face?

Unable to shake my concern, I shoot him a quick text. "Hey, how's it going with Sir Luke? You holding up okay?"

The reply comes fast.

All good here! ??

Still not convinced, I type back.

If you're feeling zonked, Emma's just a shout away. No need to be a hero.

Really, I'm fine. Thanks, though!

His response was quick, a bit too chipper. I try to dive back into work, but something doesn't sit right. Why didn't he answer more directly? Why so cheerful?

An hour or so later, on a whim, I decide to call, just to hear his voice, to gauge the tiredness in it perhaps. But it goes to voicemail. That's not like Sean, not when he knows I might worry.

That settles it. I pack up my things, my mind made up faster than I can zip my laptop bag. Something's off, and I can't shake the feeling that I need to be there. I leave my half-finished coffee on the table, the urgency growing with each step I take to the car.

As I drive back to the ranch, the picturesque streets of Cedar Creek blur past, my worry for Sean sharpening into a fine point. I keep glancing at my phone, half-hoping for a reassuring message that doesn't come. What if it's more than just exhaustion? What if he's downplaying something serious?

The familiar gates of the ranch come into view sooner than expected, my drive fueled by a mix of concern and determination.

As I pull into the driveway, my heart is thumping a frantic rhythm that seems to echo through the quiet of the ranch. I hurry inside, my worry morphing into outright panic when I find Sean slumped over in a chair in the living room.

The scene is a jumble of scattered toys and a stillness that feels heavy, wrong.

And on top of it all, there’s a beer at his side.

"Sean!" My voice cracks as I rush to him, shaking his shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. He's unresponsive, his head lolling slightly with my touch, and I feel a surge of fear. "Sean, wake up!"

Frantically, I scan the room, and there's no sign of Luke. My heart drops to my stomach. "Luke? Luke!" I call out, my voice sharp with terror, echoing through the empty house.

I turn back to Sean, my hands trembling as I try again to wake him. After what feels like an eternity, he groans, his eyes fluttering open, but so groggy and slow that it sends a fresh wave of dread through me.

"Sean, where's Luke?" I demand, my voice a mix of relief and rising panic.

He blinks, confusion clouding his features as he tries to piece together his surroundings. "I... I don't know," he mumbles, his words slurred and sluggish.

That's not the answer I need. Heart racing, I dart from the room, calling for Luke, my voice bouncing off the walls, sharp and desperate. Every second feels like an hour as I search, my mind racing with dreadful possibilities.