Denver
July seventh is a weird day on the ranch. Has been since the last birthday we had with Mom, when Dad carried her out to a lawn chair set out on the grass and we pretended like she’d be around for a hundred more birthdays to come. We ate our weight in the delicious food Kate made, while filling the hot summer air with stories and laughter. Blair sat on my lap, drinking fruit punch and running her fingers through my hair. When Mom got tired, Dad brought her to bed, and the rest of us stayed up until two o’clock in the morning around a bonfire.
But it’s been different without her. Dad shows up at the ranch twice a year—to commemorate her birthday and the day she died. We have an uncomfortable family dinner, always without Austin, and I try my damnedest to keep things lighthearted.
Hopping out of the shower, I send Aus one last text invite for dinner. I know he won’t come, but I can’t help shooting my shot at getting everyone together. For Mom. For Grandpa.
The walk to the big house is slow and torturous until I see Blair’s vehicle parked out front. Then my pace quickens, until I’m practically at a jog. Taking the front porch stairs two at a time, and blowing through the screen door. With one long exhale as I stroll down the hallway, I play it totally cool walking into the kitchen. In a split second, the wind deflates from my sails when Blair is nowhere in sight.
But my dad is.
“Hey, Dad.” I give him a nod hello, immediately heading for a cold beer out of the fridge.
He briefly looks up from where he’s drawing with Odessa at the table. “Hey, kid.”
I fish a key out of my pocket to crack open the beer, then take a swig and lean against the counter next to where Kate’s chopping up vegetables. Mid-dice, Kate casually mutters, “She’s over at Cassidy’s. Maybe you should text her and ask if she wants to stay for dinner.”
I nearly choke on my drink. Does everyone around here have bets placed on us getting together or what?
“I’m not subjecting her to this shit show,” I say under my breath.
Just then, Blair walks into the room, instantly invigorating the overall energy with her sunshine smile. “Bennett Wells? No way!”
She rushes around the side of the table, wrapping him in a hug, and Dad smiles for what’s probably the first time all day.
“I heard you were back in town,” he says. “Didn’t expect to find you out here causing trouble after all these years, though.”
Probably also the most Dad has spoken all day.
Blair steps back, smiling at him. “Yeah, my best friend is Red’s baby mama, so I’ve been here a lot lately. But what are you doing here?”
I wince and take a sip of beer, waiting for the hammer to drop and all the happiness in her tone to dissipate in an instant.
“Oh, uh…w-well…” Dad starts to stammer.
Jackson clears his throat. “It’s Mom’s birthday. Dad always comes to have dinner with us.”
“Oh, shit.” Blair turns to look at me, eyes awash with concern.
“Bad word,” Odessa pipes up.
“I didn’t…Somehow I didn’t put two and two together when I looked at the date this morning.” Blair crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll leave you all to your family time.”
“Stay,” Dad takes the word right out of my mouth. “Lucy would want you to stay.”
“I don’t want to intrude….”
Clearly not in the mood to argue, Dad pulls out Austin’s chair for her with a huff. And Blair cautiously takes a seat—fully aware that Austin sits in that exact spot at the table, and always has.
Looking at me from across the room, she mouths his name with a confused knitting in her brows.
I mouth back that I’ll tell her later and head to the pantry to hunt for a bottle of wine. Finally finding a white that seems like it might be fancy enough for Blair, I step back into the kitchen to find her and Dad in a lively conversation about her time in Vancouver.
Kate and Jackson seem equally as confused by Dad’s change in demeanor, but the three of us breathe a collective sigh of relief. Because this is infinitely better than any previous dinner with Dad, where conversation was stilted, and nobody mentioned Mom despite it being her birthday.
I slide a glass of wine to Blair and sink into a chair, watching her be the daughter my dad had always hoped for.
“You okay?” she quietly asks when Dad gets up to grab himself a fresh drink.
“So much better now.” I study the summer freckles starting to pepper her cheeks, craving the soft feel of her skin under my hardened fingers. “You don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to.”
“I want to stay.” She raises her glass to her lips. “If you want me to…”
“I do.”
“Where’s Aus?”
“He…uh.” I lower my voice so it’s barely audible. “He doesn’t speak to Dad, so he doesn’t come to these.”
The surprise on her face makes sense, given the fact that our dad was always closest with Austin growing up. I guess that’s why his leaving seemed to have had the biggest impact on my eldest brother.
When Dad sits back down, Kate is right behind him with food. Setting plates in front of us, heaped with smoked chicken breast, salad, and green beans straight from the garden.
Thanks to Blair, there’s dinner conversation for the first time in over a decade. There’s laughter. There’s reminiscing, and talk about rodeos, and even a very heated debate over the best current country artist.
Blair glances over at me with every break in conversation, filling my heart until I’m sure it’ll burst. And when her foot taps mine under the table, I’m sure of one thing.
Beryl is winning five dollars.
Blair Hart is going to be my girl again before this summer ends.