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“Can I get you another?” asked the bartender in the lounge at BWI, where I waited for my flight.
“One more. Thanks.” I leaned against the back of the barstool and wondered if I should add a shot to the beer I’d ordered. By the time I landed in Denver, its effect would have worn off, and that’s when I’d really need it.
My father was dead. It would take some time for me to wrap my head around him being gone, and not because I wasn’t prepared for it to happen. I just figured the old man was cantankerous enough to whip cancer’s ass for a few more months.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled under my breath before ordering the shot I wasn’t sure I should have, but knew I needed.
I waited until the last possible minute to board the plane, wondering how pissed Stella was at me for leaving her at Cope and Ali’s wedding by herself. I probably should’ve warned her of the possibility, but the doctors had given my pop six months to live four years ago.
Plus, Stella was a reporter, and a damn good one. The mere mention of my father would have led to questions I didn’t want to answer. They’d start out innocently enough, but once she picked up on my discomfort, she wouldn’t have been able to help herself; our conversation would have turned into an interrogation without her even realizing it was happening.
Stella. Wrapping my head around the idea that she and I were over before I’d had the balls to get anything started, was going to be hard too.
While I told her she looked pretty today, the words I’d almost said were “fucking hot.” I laughed to myself. Why hadn’t I? Stella, of all people, would’ve preferred the edgier comment. And maybe that was why I kept it softer—to see the blush on her cheeks at the word she didn’t hear often enough.
I grabbed my bag and threw a twenty on the bar when I heard the final boarding call for my flight. What I’d give to not have to get on the plane that would take me to the home I’d never wanted to go back to.
Four agonizing hours later, I landed in Denver. Since it was already dark, there was no point in driving over to the ranch tonight; by the time I rented a vehicle and drove over, it would be past two in the morning. Instead, I’d try to get as far on the other side of Denver as I could. Maybe stop in Conifer or Bailey.
I stood to get my bag out of the overhead and banged into someone behind me. “Sorry about that,” I said, turning around.
“It’s okay,” said the girl I’d bumped butts with. She was a cute little thing, all bright smiles and eager eyes. There might’ve been a time when I would’ve taken this kind of opportunity to flirt, maybe even get her number. Now, though, she just looked young. Too young. And vapid. When I saw she was trying to reach a bag in the opposite overhead, I grabbed it and handed it to her. “Go on ahead,” I said, noticing the aisle was clear in front of us.
I waved a few more people by and then stepped out of my row, hoping the woman wasn’t waiting for me at the end of the ramp that led from the plane to the terminal. This kind of thing happened to me often enough that I knew what to expect and how best to avoid it.
I put on my cowboy hat and walked off the plane. When I reached the terminal, I could see her waiting in the distance. I pulled out my phone, took a sharp left, and made a beeline for the men’s room.
When I came out, I didn’t see her, and even if I had, I’d made my lack of interest clear. I took the train from my terminal to baggage claim and the airport exit. When I reached the top of the escalator that went from the platform to the main level, I saw a familiar face.
“Hey, man,” I said to my brother Porter. “I didn’t expect you.” He and I moved out of the way and embraced.
“Couldn’t just let you sit here at DIA,” he muttered.
“I would’ve rented something and driven over.”
“Is that all you’ve got?” he asked, pointing to my bag.
“That’s it.”
“Guess you aren’t planning on staying long.”
“I don’t stay anywhere very long, Port.” My attempt at a joke fell flat, not doing a thing to alleviate the tension that seeped from my brother’s pores. “I also left behind a closet full of shit.” The clothes I wore when I was at the ranch weren’t a lot different than what I wore everywhere else, but the truth was, I traveled light.
“Gotcha.”
“I appreciate this, Port.”
“It isn’t completely unselfish, Buck. There are things we need to talk about.”
I’d expected there would be. “How’s Flynn?” Of all my siblings, the youngest—my sister—would take our dad’s death the hardest. I couldn’t speak for my three brothers, but knowing they carried the same memories I did, I could understand if they didn’t give a shit if the old man was burning in hell.
“Stoic,” answered Port.
That didn’t surprise me. Like our mom, Flynn held everything inside. I only hoped my sister could find a way to let the things that bothered her out. Otherwise, also like our mother, she might die of a heart attack before she hit thirty-five.
We didn’t talk again until we were in Port’s truck and on the highway.
“There’s some stuff you need to know about the ranch, Buck. Finances in particular.”
