Colt
Once the sun has set, the air cools off in a hurry at the ranch’s high elevation. Still warm, but the bunkhouse no longer feels like a sauna.
I throw open my bedroom window and flop backward in nothing but boxers, letting the evening breeze lap over my skin and the sound of crickets echo through the plain, beige room.
We’re pretty lucky in that this building used to be a family home, and the Wellses never bothered tearing down walls to create one giant open space.
From what some of the other ranch hands have told me, a lot of places offer staff accommodation that resembles something like summer camp bunks.
Not here. A few of the newer guys share rooms, but those of us who have been around a long time get our own.
Back when I started, my brother took a job with me, so we went from sharing a room in our parents’ house to sharing one here.
To be honest, I’m not sure I would’ve stuck it out for as long as I have if I had to bunk with most of the other guys.
The phone rings three times before my mom picks up. There’s some sort of chick-flick sounding movie playing in the background.
“Hey, Ma. Sorry, didn’t mean to bug you.”
“Hey, bud. No bother at all.” She pauses the television. “How are you? How was your day?”
“Austin had me in the tractor for thirteen hours, so my back—”
She cuts me off. “Put some of that salve I gave you on it.”
“Already did.”
Tried, anyway. My arms don’t have enough reach. But I draped a salve-covered washcloth over the end of a hairbrush one of the guys left in the communal bathroom, and that hit most of the right spots.
“Anyway, aside from that, it was good. I’m about to go to bed now—back to haying at four a.m. tomorrow.”
“What are you doing awake still? Not having enough sleep has the same effects as being drunk. Get to bed.”
“I will, I will.” I roll my eyes despite knowing she can’t see my reaction. “Don’t you want to know why I called you?”
“Right. Of course.”
“Remember a few weeks ago when I said you’d be the first to know when I met someone?”
Her vintage floral armchair—I know it’s what she’s sitting in because it’s been her favorite chair since we picked it up at a yard sale a few years back—squeaks as she shifts positions. Likely sitting up straighter to help her fully take in what I’m saying.
I chew on the words for a fraction of a second before spitting them out. “I’m gonna marry this girl.”
My mom’s always preached that you’ll know you’ve found your person when you know. And I know.
She gasps. “You got engaged, and this is the first I’m hearing about her?”
“No, no, no. Haven’t even asked her on a date yet, actually. I just…know she’s it. Had an aha moment yesterday. I want to be with Whit.”
The shriek that escapes her lips practically reaches dog whistle frequency. In fact, Betty wearily lifts her head from its spot on my bed to see what the commotion is about. I stroke the soft fur on her belly until she flops back over with a huff.
“We’re nothing more than friends right now. But…fuck, Ma.” I shut my eyes, reveling in Mom’s joy emanating through the phone. “Yesterday I walked into a…situation with Whit and Jonas. And she seemed so relieved to have me there.”
I can’t stop thinking about the way it felt to have Whit in my arms—like I was put on this Earth for no other reason but to be her safe space for the few minutes she let me bear her pain.
Her head tucked perfectly between my collarbone and jaw, I rested the weight of my chin on her honeysuckle-smelling hair.
I want Whit Hart. In an all-consuming, heart-wrenching way, I want her.
And I’m pretty damn sure I love her kid. Especially after we spent hours on the lake, fishing and sharing in the experience of having crappy dads. He talked more in those few hours than he has in the entire time I’ve known him. About important shit, too. Really opened up to me.
“I already figured out I liked her when we had game night at their house, but after yesterday…” I recognize the line is eerily silent on her end. “You think I’m crazy?”
“I think…No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I’m sure Whit is beautiful and a lovely woman, and Jonas is a great kid. I can see the appeal….” Mom’s voice trails off.
“But?”
“But…I just don’t think you really know what you’re getting into, and I’d hate for you to be in over your head dating somebody with a kid when you aren’t ready for that much responsibility.”
“Jonas is my buddy—I’ve been teaching him stuff on the ranch, and we go fishing together.”
A lot more than my father ever did, if I’m being honest.
“It’s one thing to be his friend, and it’s another to be his stepdad. Being a parent is hard, Colt. It’s not a role anybody should step into on a whim.”
“I thought you’d be thrilled about this.”
After all, she’s spent the past five years nudging me to date, settle down, get married, and give her grandbabies. This is her dream scenario, and I fully expected her to be my ultimate hype-woman.
“I am, if it all works out. I want you to find someone, fall in love, have a family…. I’m just trying to temper expectations.”
I sigh, the excited energy in my soul deflating. All at once, the room feels dark and the air heavy. “This call has turned into a bit of a buzzkill, if I’m gonna be honest.”
She gives a tut of annoyance. “I know you’ll be a fantastic dad one day—maybe you’ll even be Jonas’s.
But you said before that his dad isn’t consistent, so if you love the boy, you won’t rush into anything.
Don’t put the three of you in a position where you’re adding to the instability in his life. ”
You know what I hate? When my mom is right.
“Take it slow. Got it.”
“I’m not trying to discourage you from asking her out. I only want you to make the best choice for yourself…and for them.”
I’m aware I’m entirely out of my depth here, with no parenting experience or father worthy of learning from.
Maybe I can’t waltz into their lives and become Jonas’s dad overnight.
But if there’s one thing I learned from watching my mom parent us on her own, it’s that Whit can take care of Jonas.
What she needs before anything else is somebody to take care of her. To put her first.
That is something I can do.
“Not discouraged, Ma. She’s already referred to me as a friend, so I know it’s going to take time to change her mind, but that’s fine. What date is it today?”
“Um…” The line goes quiet for a few seconds. “The thirteenth.”
“Perfect. Block off August thirteenth on your calendar for the next few years. You’ll have a wedding to attend for one of them, and then you can count on babysitting a grandbaby or two for quite a few anniversaries after.”