Page 50 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

He’d been there to help Dad build us kids a tree house. He’d helped me break my first horse.

When my grandfather had been ready to pass down the ranch and his business holdings to his sons, Briggs had chosen to let Dad take over. Management had never been his passion. He was content to have a bank account healthy with money he rarely spent and a simple life living on the land that owned his heart.

Briggs’s cabin was nestled in a grove of evergreens in arguably the prettiest meadow on the ranch. A stack of unevenly chopped firewood was scattered around the porch. An ax was propped up against the steps.

“Chopping wood?” I asked.

Briggs nodded. “Getting a head start before winter.”

“Good plan.” Though I wasn’t too keen on him running the stove if he couldn’t manage to put on a matching pair of boots.

I parked and picked up the travel mug, dumping the contents as we made our way to the house. With no idea what I’d find, I braced as I followed him inside. But the cabin was as clean and tidy as ever.

“How are things going on the ranch, Griffin?” he asked, taking the cup from my hand and carting it to the sink.

That was the first time he’d called me by my name tonight.

“Good. Busy. We’re about done with fence repairs for the year.”

“That’s always a good feeling.” He chuckled. “Want to stay a while? Join me for dinner?”

“No, but thanks.” I gave him a smile. “I’d better get on.”

“Appreciate you swinging by.”

“You’re welcome.” Did he remember even coming to the bar?

Goddamn, this was hard. My heart clenched. His blue eyes were the same as those I met in the mirror each morning. He was the very best uncle a boy could have wished for. He’d treated Dad’s children—me—like one of his own.

Briggs had been married once, briefly, until she’d left him after their third anniversary. My siblings and I, my parents, had been his family. He hadn’t missed a single one of my basketball or football games. He’d been present at every graduation.

Seeing him like this . . . fuck, but it was hard.

“I’ll see you soon.” I waved goodbye, then let myself out.

I was more than ready to go home.

Except I didn’t have a vehicle. It was downtown.

“Shit.” I pulled out my phone and called Dad. “Hey, can you come pick me up and run me into town?”

“Now?” He sounded like his mouth was full.

“Yeah. Now. I’m at Uncle Briggs’s cabin.”

“Where’s your truck?”

“In town. And I need to talk to you.”

“All right.” There was the shuffling of feet and a muffled exchange with my mother before the line went dead.

I started walking down the road, making it about a mile before I heard the rumble of an engine and Dad’s new pickup emerged from a bend in the trees.

He had a drop of barbeque sauce on his shirt.

“Sorry to interrupt dinner.”

“It’s okay.” He turned the truck around, heading toward home. “What’s going on?”