Looking at them as an adult was different, though. I didn’t just see them as my parents, but rather as people who were helplessly and disgustingly in love with one another. They’dbuilt a life they were proud of, had raised three wonderful children, and still clung to one another like no time had passed.
In a world full of fuckboys and wandering eyes, would I ever find that kind of love? I’d always tried hard not to judge myself based on what I’d accomplished by my age, but relationship goals seemed different for some reason. Mom and Dad were already married with kids at twenty-seven, yet I was more committed to my favorite perfume than a person.
Well, sort of.
Only one person came to mind, a person I’d desperately tried to shove out and lock the door behind, but he kept breaking through all the same.
Bishop had been acting strange since I’d confronted him. It was like he wanted to move past whatever war we were waging by loosening the reins he always held so tight. He’d started including me in the morning meetings, where he gave job delegations to the ranch hands and went over things that needed to be done. He even held me back to ask about hiring a few more hands for the branding this weekend.
It was a complete one-hundred-and-eighty-degree shift from how he’d been. There were moments I caught him staring at me from across the room. Each time, I held my breath, wondering if it was going to be the moment he made good on all those longing looks and said, “fuck it,” before storming over to kiss me.
And when it never came, I couldn’t fight the pang of disappointment as he walked away with his head down.
His hot and cold nature was driving me crazy. I couldn’t tell whether his restraint should be celebrated or ridiculed. Was I any better, though? Could I fault him for not knowing what he wanted or for not wanting to upset the balance at the ranch? His dedication to my dad was the one thing I couldn’t hate.
Suddenly, the kitchen lit up, and I blinked to adjust my sight. Dad was standing in the archway, staring at me with his handon the light switch. He was in his work clothes—worn Wrangler jeans that looked like they were on their last life and a faded blue button-down shirt. It was one of his favorites, but the buttons were constantly popping off because it was so old.
I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest and raising my brow. “Going somewhere?”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… I heard you in here and wanted to have coffee.”
“I smell bullshit,” I said, gesturing toward his outfit.
He lifted the collar of his shirt and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. “I don’t smell anything,” he said, giving me his best smile. “Are you sure it’s bullshit you smell and not one of your mom’s frilly little candles?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure,” I said, grabbing my favorite red mug. Dad had gotten it for me, much to Mom’s dismay, a few Christmases ago. There was a small middle finger engraved into the side of the clay with the words Fuck Off right above it.
Dad didn’t say anything as he went to make his own coffee. We had two separate machines because he liked to make his so strong and bitter. I didn’t know how he drank it like that. “How long have you been up?” he asked, reaching for a cup of his own.
I glanced at the clock, seeing that over thirty minutes had passed since the last time I’d looked. “Mm, I made my pot around five,” I said, tracing my finger along the edge of the breakfast table. “I had to get up a little earlier since you’d nearly succeeded in escaping house arrest yesterday.”
He smiled, taking the seat across from mine. “Well, I have to keep you on your toes, don’t I? Wouldn’t be much fun if I stuck to a routine.”
“Actually, it’d be pretty great. Maybe I could get some sleep without having to patrol the halls for an old man who should be in bed right now,” I deadpanned.
“Go easy on my heart, Lenny Bug,” he joked. “I dunno how much more it can take.”
I dropped my gaze, letting the truth of his words settle. “I wish you’d stop saying that.”
There was a beat of silence before he spoke in a soft tone. “It’s just a joke, honey. I don’t mean anything by it.”
I lifted my shoulder in a shrug, keeping my eyes on the worn groove along the edge of the table. I remembered the day I’d made the indenture. Josie and I ran around the kitchen, chasing one another while Cleo did her homework in the living room. She’d told us to stop running, that someone would get hurt if we weren’t careful, but neither of us listened. All it took was one misstep, and I went careening into the table.
There were so many tears shed that day. Blood was all over the table and my clothes. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie. I’d never forget the look on Mom’s face when she rushed inside at Cleo’s ear-piercing scream. She ran me straight to the hospital for stitches along my upper lip. I lost both of my front teeth, which, thankfully, were already loose.
By the time Mom and I made it back to the ranch, I’d worried myself sick thinking about how mad my dad would be that I messed up the brand-new table. Instead, he’d left the cowboys in charge of the chores and came home to watch Cleo and Josie. They’d all made cards that saidGet Well Soonand decorated my bedroom with a string of colorful teeth cut from construction paper.
For some reason, Mom called it extremely disturbing, but I’d thought it was the coolest thing ever.
Neither of them ever yelled, though. They didn’t raise their voices or make me feel horrible about being a kid who had an accident. It quickly became an inside joke, a Hayes family anecdote we still laughed about to this day. I loved that they never patched the table because while it had hurt like hell, what came after was still one of my favorite memories.
Except now, it didn’t fill me with joy or excitement because Icouldn’t stop thinking about how many more times we’d be able to laugh about it as a family.
“I know that’s your nature, Dad. You like to make light of serious situations and turn them into jokes, so it takes the gravity out of the scenario, but there’s no way to turn this. You’re literally the glue that holds us all together, and I—” my voice broke, and I quickly reached up to wipe away the tear that slipped free. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do when you’re not here.”
Dad’s face fell, his dark, hooded eyes full of remorse. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, staring down at his weathered hands. “Joking about it is the only way I keep going, Lenny Bug. It’s the only way I can pick myself up in the morning and continue about my day, because if I don’t, then I’m filled with fear. Sure, some of that is for me—I don’t wanna die, you know. But mostly, I’m terrified for everyone I’d leave behind,” he whispered, laying his hand flat for me to take.
“I’m scared about your momma being alone for damn near the first time in her life and how empty this big ole house will feel for her when y’all fly from the nest. I’m scared about what’ll happen to the ranch, and if I’ve prepared Bishop and the boys for the highs and lows they’ll experience because, let’s face it, running a ranch is fucking tough.” We both shared a watery laugh. “And I’m scared for you girls because I wanna watch y’all grow old, too. I wanna see you hit every milestone y’all set for yourselves—whether that’s in a career or marriage or babies or even just finally ticking off everything on your to-do list. I wanna know y’all are fulfilled and happy and taken care of.”
