Chapter 42
Beau
“Your future?”
I nodded. “It’s important to me.”
Dad only crossed his arms. “Alright then,” he said softly.
I guess that was his way of telling me to continue.
“I don’t want to end up like you and Mom.”
Dad’s jaw tensed, but his eyes stayed on mine. “I loved your mom, son. I worked hard to give her a good life. I know when you were young and she passed, you might not have understood—”
“Understood?” I cut him off. “I understood fine, Dad. I was the one there, taking care of her when you were gone. While my friends were at high school parties, I was driving Mom to chemo appointments. I was holding her hand when she was too weak to get out of bed. Don’t tell me I didn’t understand. ”
He swallowed audibly. “I was on the circuit trying to make money for the family, to pay for the insurance. There was so much that went into it—”
“I don’t want to end up like you.”
I didn’t want to rehash the past with him. I learned a long time ago that you couldn’t change people who didn’t want change. Dad would always be stubborn in his ways; it was only what I could do and how I responded to him that could change.
“What does that mean?”
“I want more than eight seconds of glory,” I said, the words coming faster now that they’d started. “I want to be married and home with my wife, Dad. I want to raise kids on the ranch. I want . . . I want a reason to shine that isn’t about how long I can stay on a bull.”
His hands flexed against his thighs. “You want to quit while you’re on top?”
“Don’t you see that I don’t care about being on top?
” My chest tightened, the years of unspoken words pressing down hard.
“Winning championships, holding up trophies—it’s not what keeps me up at night.
What keeps me up is the thought of coming home to an empty house, of missing the little moments because I was too far away, chasing something that won’t love me back. ”
Dad dropped his eyes to the grass, the lines on his face deeper than I’d ever noticed before.
“I thought . . . I thought if I worked hard enough, I could give her the life she deserved. I thought if I could make enough money, everything else would fall into place. I thought she’d get better and we’d have years to retire and watch you live out our legacy. You’re our only son.”
There was a long pause before he spoke again.
“I missed so much . . . and then she was gone, and there wasn’t anything I could do to get that time back.”
“We can’t change the past, but we can move forward. I’m not gonna let fear make my decisions for me.”
Dad tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching mine. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”
“I have,” I admitted, clearing my throat. “I met someone. Her name’s Fable Morris.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ve seen her . . . at dinners, around events. She seems like a good girl.”
“She’s more than that,” I said. “She’s . . . the calm in all the noise. The kind of woman who makes you want to be better just by standing next to her. She’s strong in ways she doesn’t even see in herself.”
Dad was quiet, his eyes holding mine with a look I couldn’t quite place.
“Sounds like she’s the kind of woman worth holding on to,” he said, his voice low.
“She is,” I whispered.
Dad gripped my shoulder. The air around us felt different—lighter, maybe.
“You sure about this, son?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” I glanced at Mom’s headstone, tracing the letters of her name with my eyes before looking back at Dad. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life chasing something that doesn’t matter if it means losing what does.”
Dad’s eyes glistened, though he blinked fast enough to chase away whatever threatened to fall. His grip tightened briefly before he let go.
“I’m proud of you, Beau. Always have been. I know I didn’t show it enough, but . . . hearing you talk about her, about the life you want . . . your mom would be proud too.”
Emotion thickened my throat as I swallowed hard and nodded.
“I’m gonna get a few bucking bulls, maybe a couple broncos for Gat, help Kline out . . . build something solid. Build a family.”
“And if things don’t go the way you’re planning?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Impossible. It’s her. She’s it for me.”
Dad pushed off the ground, dusting his jeans as he stood, and my gaze drifted back to Mom’s name etched in stone one more time.
This was the moment I’d needed for so long. Talking to Dad, breaking through the years of unspoken words and misunderstandings. We couldn’t rewrite the past, but we’d started something new. A chapter built on understanding.
I leaned forward, my fingers grazing the edge of the headstone as if the distance between us could somehow feel smaller.
“I love her,” I whispered.