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Bullet’s mouth was full, so he nodded.
“You need a break, son, and we’re here to make sure you take it.”
“Listen, Daddy—”
“No, you listen. We’re here because Bill and Dottie Patterson asked us to come.”
“Why’d they do that? How did they even know how to get in touch with you?”
“She didn’t. Dottie asked your gram to come, and since we were planning to fly in yesterday anyway, she picked us up at the airport in Denver.”
Bullet had given Dottie Gram’s phone number in case anything happened to him on the ranch, or while he was riding bulls.
He pushed his plate back. He’d lost his appetite. He’d been trying to be a good employee, to work hard for the Pattersons, and not let the fact he was raising his son on his own interfere with his job. If Dottie had asked his gram to come, he obviously wasn’t succeeding.
“What am I doin’ wrong?” he said to himself as much as he did his father.
“It isn’t that. They asked her to come because they think you need a little time to yourself. And they know you well enough to know you wouldn’t depend on their kindness if they offered to watch Grey for a few days. So, they called in the cavalry…in the form of your grandmother.”
Bullet still didn’t understand. Between Billy, telling him that he’d raised his daughter on his own and Lyric, always after him about following his dream, and now this, it seemed as though everyone was encouraging him to do the opposite of what he knew he needed to be doing.
Had he proven himself to be so undependable that even the smallest sign of responsibility made everyone believe he needed a break to get his head screwed back on crooked?
“Lyric said you were thinkin’ about gettin’ a place in Colorado.”
“She’s right. Not sure where yet, though. Got any ideas?”
Bullet talked to his dad about the places in Colorado he knew well, and brought up other towns he’d like to visit.
“Lyric suggested Aspen. I don’t know why. Seems like a sleepy ol’ town to me.”
“Lots of rockers maybe.”
“Don’t know about that. Unless you mean the chairs. I’ve been to Telluride a few times for their Blues Fest. However, outside of that and ski season, doesn’t seem like too much is happening there either.”
“Colorado ain’t Los Angeles.”
“It sure isn’t. But it’s all good. I’m done with LA anyway. Doesn’t matter anymore where you’re based. You can record music anywhere. You can set up a damn studio in your house.”
Bullet told his dad about Ben’s set up in Crested Butte. “You should check it out.”
“I got a call from Ben recently. About hookin’ up with Mark Cochran. Won’t that be somethin’?”
Bullet remembered Ben talking about it several weeks ago. He was probably supposed to arrange it, or at least tell his dad, but he’d forgotten all about it with Callie’s death.
“Sure would. Mark lives close to here. I don’t know if Ben told you.”
“Yep, and we’re scheduled to get together day after tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Here, or at Mark’s. Like you said, he lives close. Ben is comin’ in tomorrow for dinner, and then the next day, we’ll see what kind of musical firecrackers we can light up.”
&
nbsp; How had all this been arranged without anyone mentioning it to him? Bullet was beginning to think they were right, he did need a break. Maybe he was already having a break—a mental one, and that was why so much of what was going on around him made no sense.
“How much of a break did Bill and Dottie say I needed?”
