Chapter 27 Grady
grady
. . .
Just like I thought it’d be, the parking lot of the Ashwood fairgrounds was jam-packed with trucks as far as the eye could see.
If people weren’t at the bar getting drunk, they were at some roping or bull riding event, watching other people fall on their asses.
It looked like everyone and their damn mother had shown up.
Looking over at my company for the evening, I guess I was no better.
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” Mom said, squeezing my hand.
She hadn’t let go since I helped her out of Dad’s truck.
“We haven’t gone to the rodeo in years.”
It hadn’t been an accident. At least on my part.
I’d stayed far away from Ashwood since Cleo and I had broken up.
Cleo’s family was at damn near every rodeo event, so this was the last place I wanted to be.
I wasn’t dumb, I knew someone from the Hayes crew would be here tonight, and there would be no avoiding them.
My only hope for the night was to make Mom happy while hoping none of them saw me and went back to Cleo to tell her I was in town.
I’d heard she’d moved back to Ashwood after she graduated.
Mom kept in contact with her and said she was now teaching at the local elementary school.
I was happy for her. It seemed like she was following her dreams and doing all the things she’d said she wanted to.
I knew it couldn’t have been easy, but she did it anyway.
All without me.
Though the thought fucking killed me, sometimes I wondered if she’d been right all along.
That neither of us was ready for the level of commitment we pledged to one another, and our goals weren’t attainable if we couldn’t give them one hundred percent.
I still held on to the notion of someday, because the one thing I refused to believe was we weren’t meant for one another.
Even after all this time, I still felt her beneath my skin.
Some days it was comforting. Others it was consuming. I just didn’t know which one it would be when I woke up each morning.
I paid for our admission, and reluctantly let Mom drag us across the grounds to the bleachers nearest the chutes.
If I had my choice, I would’ve picked the opposite end.
My chances of running into someone were less likely that way, but Mom had always liked being close to the action.
She always said she couldn’t see very well, and while, yes, she did have terrible eyesight, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the case in this instance as I stared at the Black Springs Ranch logo pasted on the front of the gates.
The events had already begun by the time we took our seats.
We watched the last few contestants in the steer wrestling round finish up as the announcer started talking about team roping.
I didn’t listen to most of it. I’d heard the speeches before.
It was damn near the same no matter where you were, but as I heard a familiar name, I perked up.
“This sport owes a lot to Ashwood’s own Douglas Hayes and the crew out at Black Springs Ranch.
You know his daughter is competing tonight in the barrel race?
Truly, such an amazing and gifted family. ”
My chest constricted as the first mention of the Hayes family settled around us.
Mom tried to talk to me about Cleo for years.
At first, I opened up. I didn’t want to admit to my mistakes at first. Acknowledging I’d lost myself in the excitement of the Austin music scene felt like such a cop-out.
It was easier to blame her for not being more understanding.
But after the restless nights turned into restless months, I began to wonder how much of that was true.
Could she have approached things differently?
Sure. But so could I. My list of faults was a mile long, and if I could go back, I would’ve done so many things differently.
I wouldn’t have dropped out of school and prioritized music over everything, especially not over her.
I hadn’t realized it in the moment, too focused on all the shit I was trying to do for me.
I think, even before she spoke the words, I knew I was going to lose her.
Maybe it was why I subconsciously tried to preemptively fill the void with something I knew I wanted.
If I’d known that was going to be the nail in our coffin, I would’ve given it all up.
Even if only to avoid seeing the look of complete and utter devastation on her face, the way every bit of light remaining in her eyes had died as she walked away from me for good.
Mom squeezed my arm, and I gave her a tentative smile.
I was sure my thoughts were written all over my face.
Being back home was hard. Too complicated for my liking.
At least in Nashville, I didn’t have to watch my back around every turn.
Maybe that was why I liked it so much, why I never came home anymore.
It was too hard. I wasn’t even sure I could do this, but I knew I was damn well going to try for Mom’s sake.
“I’m thirsty, baby,” Mom said, turning my way. “Will you go and get me a beer?”
“You trying to get drunk?” I asked.
She looked away, hiding a smile. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just want to live a little tonight. I want to have a perfect night with my perfect family.”
“You sure you’re not already drunk?”
“Oh my god, you’re being a buzzkill. I knew you were like your father, but I didn’t realize you got that from him, too.”
“Hey!” Dad and I protested at the same time. “I’m not a buzzkill,” he murmured.
“Honey, you’ve kept one hand on that damn cell phone for the last month, just in case I go down. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had 9-1-1 on speed dial.”
Dad looked down, noticing the way his hand was, in fact, resting beside his pocket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Doesn’t sound like me.”
I leaned over and pecked Mom on the cheek. “Alright, fine. But just because you asked so nicely,” I deadpanned.
“There’s the sweet boy I raised,” she said, lightly patting my cheek with her hand. “Thank you, baby.”
I squeezed past the folks sitting next to us and jogged down the stairs, keeping my head down in hopes I didn’t run into anyone from high school.
I didn’t consider myself well-known in any capacity, but there were a handful of times people slid into my DMs after years of silence, asking for autographs or concert tickets.
Yeah, absolutely the fuck not.
After standing in line for far longer than it should’ve taken, I had three beers in hand and was walking back to my seat when someone bumped into me from behind, spilling all three drinks at the feet of two women.
I turned around, ready to tear into whoever it was, but I only saw the backs of three kids’ heads as they sprinted to the far end of the arena.
“God-fucking-dammit,” I cursed, reaching down to pick up the cups as a pair of boots turned to face me. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Let me help you clean—”
“Grady?”
I jerked my head up, staring into the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen. The ones that continued to haunt me to this day, every time I closed my eyes. “Cleo?”
Her mouth gaped open, quickly snapping it shut as she scanned the area. “What’re you doing here?”
I stood up, clocking the way her eyes tracked the movement, how the pulse point in her neck kicked up several notches as she sucked in a breath.
God-fucking-dammit had been right. What had I been thinking earlier, telling myself she’d been right to let us go?
Looking at her now, all I could think about was how wrong it was her hand wasn’t in mine.
“Uh, I’m in town to see Mom. You know, just helping with stuff,” I stammered out. “She asked to come tonight, so…” I gestured to the fairgrounds around us. “Here I am.”
Her fake smile faltered. “She told me. I’m so sorry, Grady.”
“It’s fine. She’ll be fine. She’s too tough to be taken out by something like this.
” I knew she talked to my mom on a somewhat regular basis, but for some reason, the fact she knew about the cancer kind of pissed me off.
It wasn’t about me, I knew that at the end of the day, but why didn’t she reach out?
Why didn’t she ask how I was doing? Losing my mom would destroy me. Didn’t that warrant a text message?
Then again, what was she supposed to do? Text me out of the blue and tell me she was sorry about the diagnosis? It would’ve pissed me off more. None of this was fair.
“She is,” Cleo agreed. “How long are you in town for?”
“Dunno,” I said, rocking back on my heels. “I don’t have anything going on until next month. Figured I’d probably hang around until then.”
Cleo nodded. “Good. That’s good. I know she misses you. She talks about you all the time.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The sound must’ve taken her by surprise because those big eyes widened like she’d done something wrong.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… This is fucking weird, right?
The small talk bullshit? I mean, it isn’t like we’re strangers.
” I shook my head when she continued to stare at me like a deer caught in the headlights. “Maybe it’s just me, but—”
“No,” Cleo said hurriedly, stepping forward.
Her hand landed on my arm in what I’m sure was supposed to be some kind of polite gesture, but it burned like fire the moment our skin touched.
She jerked her hand back, clinging to the beer can in her hands instead.
“It’s definitely not just you. I was just thinking about that, honestly.
It’s like I’m second-guessing what I want to do or say right now because I could say the wrong thing. ”
“Well, what’s going on in your head right now?” I asked.
“Right now?”
“This very instant.”