She’s Gone Country Read Online Free PDF Page A

glass to the sink, and then looks at me. We used to be the same height. Now he has a couple of inches on me. “So can I?”
    My heart is so heavy, it’s a stone in my chest. “Have you talked to your dad about this?”
    “Yesterday, when you were at the movies.”
    Of course. “And what did he say?”
    “That he’d love it. That he misses us kids.”
    I’m stunned by the wave of anger that shoots through me. He misses the kids, just the kids. Not me. Not his wife. Not his partner of seventeen years.
    But why should he?
    He’s come out of the closet. Discovered he’s gay. Discovered sex with a man is more fulfilling than sex with me. Jesus Christ. I grip a damp sponge in my hand and squeeze for all it’s worth.
    I am so mad and so confused, yet according to Dr. Phil and every other relationship expert, I can’t say a word about it to the boys. Can’t speak against their father. Can’t show how shattered I am, because kids of divorce already carry around enough guilt as it is.
    “So when could I start?” Hank presses. “After Christmas? At the start of the second semester?”
    I take a slow, deep breath. “I don’t know.”
    “Mom.”
    “Do we have to do this now?” I joke weakly. “I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”
    “Be serious. This is important.” Hank’s brow furrows. “It’s not that I don’t love you,” he adds gruffly.
    “I know that.”
    His expression turns pensive. “Do you?”
    I wrap him in my arms then and hold him tight. Who knows how many more chances I’ll have to do this? “I do,” I whisper. “I’ve known every day since you were born.”
    He returns the hug, and for a moment I’m at peace. He is mine. Everything is good. And then we let go and step apart, and Hank disappears to brush his teeth as Cooper enters the kitchen, complaining bitterly about Bo using up all the hot water. Again.
    “Morning,” I say mildly, pouring my coffee.
    “Hate mornings,” he grouses.
    The edge of my mouth lifts. Cooper is not a morning person. “How’d you sleep?”
    “Fine. Until I had to wake up.”
    The corner of my mouth lifts higher as I throw a packet of sweetener into my coffee. “How old are you again?” I ask as he grabs a box of cereal from the cupboard and a bowl and spoon from the cabinet.
    He scowls at me, and the freckles dusted across his nose dance. “Twelve.”
    I blow on my coffee. “Good.”
    The morning news said it was going to be another scorcher today, with temperatures hovering in the mid- to high eighties, and I believe it as I step outside to drive the boys to school. Even though it’s the end of September, north central Texas is still warm, and the humidity in the air sets my teeth on edge. I shouldn’t be wearing jeans. I should put on a skirt and sandals and at least be cool. But putting on a skirt means shaving my legs, and that’s the last thing I feel like doing.
    The fact is, I am thoroughly enjoying country life and dressing down and easing up on my beauty routine. In New York I spent a lot of time on maintenance, but it’s exhausting work and boring besides.
    Brick’s blue truck appears in the driveway, bouncing over the deep ruts worsened by last week’s rain. I stand on the top step as his truck pulls up next to me.
    Brick’s a big guy, and a good-looking guy, if you like rugged men who don’t believe in doing too much to themselves other than basics like hair and teeth and a once-a-day shave. I remember how a couple of years ago John tried to convince Brick that he should use some moisturizer and eye cream, said it’d really help with all Brick’s sun exposure, and Brick looked at John as if he were a freak. Moisturizer, eye cream? Not on this brother.
    The truck idles and Brick rolls down the passenger window. He’s got his straw cowboy hat pulled low, and the brim shades his eyes. “You might want to check your cell phone and make sure it’s not dead, ’cause I got a call from your agency in Dallas. They want to book you