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I look back toward the tree. “My dream wasn’t bull riding.”

“It wasn’t?”

I shake my head. “Bull riding was how I planned to get my dream.”

She waits for me to respond. “I grew up on a small family ranch in Wyoming. About three hours from here.”

Something soft crosses her face, and she takes a sip of her wine, waiting for me to continue.

“Our ranch was in my family for three generations,” I say as I lean back and look at the fire.

I can see it as clearly as if I were still standing there. The old red barn covered in snow, the outside lights glowing against the night sky. The creek that froze every winter behind our house. Mom yelling from the porch that dinner was ready. Dad already outside before the sun came up, putting in long hours. My horse Blue is waiting for me in the barn. Damn, I still miss that horse.

“I always thought the ranch would be mine someday. That’s what I grew up hearing from my dad. My brother didn’t love it as much as I did. He was into sports, and it was like pulling teeth to get him to do anything.”

“Why can’t it be yours?”

I shake my head, sadly. “It’s gone.”

“No,” she says sadly, her breath catching.

I know she knows how this feels because she and her brothers almost lost their ranch, and they struggled to keep it.

“I wanted to be a rancher all my life. I wanted to raise my own family there. I love raising cattle and working our land. It’s what I dreamed of doing. I never even considered things would fall apart the way they did.”

The memories come easier now. “We used to have a lot of fun Christmas memories.”

She smiles. “That sounds fun. What was your favorite?”

I swallow. “My mom baked cinnamon rolls every Christmas morning. That’s my favorite memory.”

“We didn’t have much money,” I say. “But we always had a good Christmas. I don’t think any of us realized how simple and great it was until we lost it all.”

I continue, knowing that this is the worst part and she’s not going to keep smiling at me like that. But she asked, so I’m going to share it with her. “Then my dad got into gambling. He thought he could strike it big and we wouldn’t have to struggle to get by anymore.”

The smile disappears just like I knew it would. She doesn’t interrupt but sits up straighter.

“He put himself deep in the hole with debt. He couldn’t get out of it.” I stare into the fire. “I started riding bulls to make money to support the ranch.”

Her eyes close. “How old were you?”

“I began financially contributing to the ranch when I was fourteen. I started out as a hired hand at neighboring ranches. Then I’d come home and work our own ranch. I put in eighteen-twenty hour days all through high school.”

She looks angry now. “So, you took care of your family from when you were fourteen? You gave them money?”

“Yeah. My dad gambled all of that, too. I didn’t know it at the time. He always said thank you and told me it was helping out.” I rub my thumb along the edge of Jenna’s hand. “Then one year at Christmas, they lost it all by New Year’s. We had less than two weeks to be out of the ranch.”

She winces. “I’m sorry, Ty.”

“Eventually, my parents moved to a small house in town and could barely make ends meet there.”

Her eyes close, and I continue.

“I paid off their first mortgage with my sponsorships years ago.” The words feel heavier now. “I thought if I could make them feel steady and safe, they’d be okay. And he’d finally stop gambling.”

I laugh bitterly. “He just took out several other mortgages, too.”

Jenna grabs my hand and squeezes it.