Chapter 2 #2
Poppy leans into his side, gazing up at him softly while saying, “Yeah, it’s forever.”
I look away, unable to keep watching that all-consuming love pulse between them.
A gnawing sensation grows in my stomach, and I take a step back, eyeing the open field.
It’s easy enough to distract myself with the possibilities this generous amount of land offers for their potential house.
I’ve never designed anything for family before, but this is what I love.
It’s my bread and butter and the entire fucking Thanksgiving dinner.
Between drowning in architecture, volunteering at the fire station, and spending time with Abbie, I’ve worked hard to keep myself busy these last few years.
Busy is good. It leaves me less time to sit and think.
“Good. I’ve already given you the warning, but I know how to burn a body. Bet I’d be pretty good at it too,” I say.
Poppy rolls her eyes, sighing. “Hasn’t it gotten old threatening him by now?”
“No.”
“Death by fire isn’t appealing to me,” Garrison states, deadpan.
I tip my chin. “Glad we have an understanding. Now, back to the house. Show me your designs.”
Poppy’s quick to hand the book over, and I peel the front page open to an explosion of pink and purple pen. The heart at the top corner with a P+G scribbled inside has me forcing back a laugh before I scroll my eyes down the rest of the page.
“Obviously, I don’t need all of these things,” she says, watching me as I read.
I flip to the second page. “If you’re building a forever home, you should have everything you want. Doesn’t matter if it’s a need or not.”
“That’s so mature of you,” Poppy teases, flicking me in the jaw.
Swatting her away, I fix my gaze on Garrison. “I’m assuming the budget covers everything in this notebook?”
“There is no budget.”
Show-off. I’m pretty sure my sister just shivered, and now I’m grossed out.
“Alright. I’ve never worked with family before, but I’m going to keep my process the same if that’s fine with you. I’m assuming I’ll just have you constantly calling me for updates.”
Poppy flicks me again. “Don’t make it sound like such a bad thing. I call you twice a week already.”
“That’s for Abbie, and you know it.”
“Only every two weeks it is.” She uses a long, manicured nail to tap at one of the points on the second page. “This one is really important to me. I know I didn’t initially mention it, but Wade mentioned Kip getting old . . .”
Garrison steps in to finish. “He’s not riding him enough. Old man’s got bad hips now, and Eliza gave him too much shit about hopping up on Kip all the time. Johnny’s been working him still, but it isn’t the same. Kip’s not himself.”
Wade and Eliza Steele run the biggest cattle ranch in Alberta right out of Cherry Peak.
Johnny, being Wade’s officially unofficial protégé, has been floating around our friend group for a while now, but this is the first I’m hearing of Wade finally feeling his age.
For a full-blooded rancher to not be able to ride his horse has got to be more painful than his hips.
And knowing that Garrison’s built a bond almost as tight with the black beast of a horse as Wade has makes it easier to understand why he’d be so worried.
“So, you want a stable for him on your land,” I say, piecing it together.
“I know you don’t do ranch projects, but I was hoping you’d say yes because I’m your sister. Special family privileges, right?”
“It’s not that I don’t do ranch projects, Pops.”
“Okay, so you just don’t like them. Either way, I’m really hoping you’ll say yes to this one. It would need to be big enough for both Kip and Honey,” she says.
It’s not all that surprising that she’d want to have the horse she’s taken to bonding with too.
Not to mention that I’ve heard Kip and Honey are attached at the hip now.
The last time I was on Steele Ranch was for Brody Steele’s wedding, and even then, I didn’t pay much attention to the horses in the pastures .
“The Steeles are letting you take them both?” I ask.
Poppy smirks. “Of course they are. All I had to do was ask nicely.”
“Right. I’m sure that was it.”
“Well? Will you do it?” She grips my arm and widens her eyes, begging me with fluttering lashes and a pout that she still pulls off as well as back when we were kids.
“I’ll do it. But only if you don’t give me a hard time about it. The reason I don’t do ranch work is because I can’t take the barked orders and blunt answers from grumpy, stubborn old men.” I stare at Garrison, and he huffs a low laugh in response.
Knowing he’s got the point of my words, I carry on. “Before the blueprints are finalized, you’ll need to put me in contact with the builder you’re going to use. Do you have zoning markers for the property already?”
“I’ve got everything in the car. If you need anything else, I’ll get it for you,” Garrison answers.
“Thanks. Is it okay if I take this notebook home with me? I’ll go through it this week and start brainstorming.”
“Sure. Make sure to show my ideas to Abbie so she knows she can design her own room at Aunt Poppy’s.”
“You let her do that and she’ll beg me to add a waterslide and a heated pool in it.”
“My little water bug,” Poppy sings, smoothing her hand out on my arm before dropping it. “I love her.”
“She’s very loveable,” I poke.
The clouds above us break, and thunder claps above the mountains behind us before the first pelt of rain hits my nose. I stifle a groan and adjust the cap on my head, pulling the brim down to shield my face.
“Great. I’m so done with this goddamn rain,” Poppy snaps, using her arm to cover her face.
Garrison’s quick to shrug out of his suit jacket and hold it above her head. The fawning look she gives him encourages me to get us moving .
“We can finish talking about this when you’re in Cherry Peak this weekend.”
Poppy nods, and the three of us rush toward the road.
The ground is already flooding with pools of water, and by the time we make it out of the mess, the legs of my jeans are covered in mud.
I stomp my feet on the gravel to dislodge the mud in the soles of my boots, but there’s not much use trying to clean off here.
I wipe a hand down my face and wait until Garrison’s grabbed a thick black folder from their car before saying, “I’ll let you know when I’m home.”
“Yes, you will. And don’t think that I’ve forgotten about what we were talking about before you got all architect on me.
You can’t keep taking shit from Sasha. It’s called co-parenting for a reason.
If you want to spoil your daughter during her last weekend of pre-school freedom, you do that.
It’s what makes you a good dad,” Poppy snips.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Pops.”
Garrison opens the door of his Mercedes-Benz and places an encouraging hand on Poppy’s back. I nod at her, waving for her to get in.
She hesitates with a hand on the door. “I love you, D. If you ever need anything?—”
“I’ll call.”
Garrison helps her into the car before turning to me. “Thank you for taking this on, Darren. I appreciate it.”
“Keep treating my sister the way you are, and you won’t have to thank me for anything.”
He lingers for a beat later, like maybe he wants to say something else, but eventually slips into the passenger side without another word. I watch their headlights fan out on the road and the smoke of the exhaust puff into the rain before tugging my car door open and finally slipping inside.
My clothes weigh a thousand pounds as I crank the heat and drop my head back against the seat. The silence pricks at my skin, growing worse with every second it takes to crank the radio and yank my hat off. I drop it onto the passenger seat and use the hem of my shirt to dry my face.
The loud buzzing coming from the cup holder draws my attention. My phone dances around as three texts come in one after the other. I try to dry my hands as best as I can before grabbing it.
Now, seeing my best friend’s name on the screen wouldn’t usually send me into a spiral, but today seems to be truly one of a kind because suddenly, I want to throw up.
Bryce : You didn’t hear it from me, but shit, Darren. Don’t lose your mind on me, okay?
Bryce : Daisy isn’t Abbie’s teacher anymore.
Bryce : Delaney is.
I drop the phone and lose it somewhere beneath my seat.
What?