Chapter 26
CY
“I’m leaving.”
Shock and confusion temporarily render me speechless.
Simone. Is leaving?
“I’m sorry?” I shake my head, sure I didn’t hear her correctly.
Maybe my brain is struggling to process. I’ve been so focused on this long-anticipated prodigal son moment that I can’t seem to get myself to switch gears.
“I’m leaving. After the compass ceremony last night, I thought about our connection. And the truth is, we don’t really have one.” She shrugs as if she’s okay with that.
I can’t disagree. And I’ve been okay with our lack of connection. Our dates were pleasant. Our conversation tended to flow easily so long as we stuck to discussing travel, working out, and food.
But I never figured out what made her tick. I don’t know anything about her family. Or even how she likes to be kissed. Long and slow? Fast and hard?
Sydney likes both.
Hey, stupid, focus.
Yanking myself out of the all-consuming thoughts of Sydney, I focus hard on what Simone is saying.
“I don’t really know you,” she adds.
Ditto.
And is that the type of relationship that screams “we’re ready to meet the parents”? Nothing but pleasant conversation, a pretty face, and a great body?
What we’ve shared is superficial at best. I’ve been the same old Cy, relying on a connection that’s safe.
“I—”
“It’s okay.” She lifts a finger to my lips, quieting me.
The camera is going to eat this up. We’re center stage with the way it’s stationed next to the bed across from the couch in my room.
“I want something more. Something bigger. And I don’t feel like that’s in the future for us. So I’m leaving. I’m already packed, and a car is waiting for me. I wanted to say goodbye and thank you.”
“Thank you?” I ask, the words muffled by her finger.
She nods. “Mm-hmm. I’ve been so focused on building every other aspect of my life that I completely forgot to dedicate time to forming a relationship with someone I could see myself spending the rest of my life with. I want someone to look at me and really see me.”
She leans in and gives me a gentle hug, and I return it automatically.
“Like you look at Sydney,” she whispers, her face turned away from the camera.
My stomach clenches. “I’m not sure I understand,” I say.
But I do. Sydney is different in a way that I can explain with words.
That’s what I don’t understand. The lack of words I have to describe why she affects me so greatly.
“I don’t think you really mean that.” Smiling, she stands.
I follow, walking her and the camera crew assigned to her to the door.
“Goodbye, Cy. It was great getting to know you.” With a little wave, she leaves.
When I’m alone, I close the door and lean against it.
What the hell just happened?
☆☆☆
“Cyrus James!” Mama flies off the front porch and yanks me into her.
The camera crew films the full-bodied hug from just about every angle.
My heart thuds heavily in my chest. I’ve missed this. The warmth of my mother’s hug and her familiar cinnamon and vanilla scent mixing with the grass and dirt around us.
Home.
She smells like home.
I clear my throat, dislodging the lump of emotion that’s formed there. “Hey, Mama.”
It’s all I can get out before she tightens her hold on me and my air supply is practically eliminated. Forget talking—I’m just doing my best to breathe.
It’s been a long time since I saw her last, although it’s been longer since the last time I came home.
Home comes with its own complications. Dad never understood how I could walk away. As the eldest, I was expected to take over the ranch. Instead, I’d pursued a different dream, and my younger brothers had stepped up to the plate.
“Where is everyone? I thought you said there was a whole show’s worth of people coming with you,” Mama says, peering around me to the camera crew.
“Mama,” I whisper the word, unable to get any air into my lungs to power it.
“And those girls. Now there’s only three of them? Where are they?”
“Mama.”
Fuck, her grip has only gotten stronger since she and Dad came out to California to see me a few years ago.
“Your Daddy and brothers are out here somewhere. Dad and Cash are checking the herd movement, making sure they’re closer for winter. Brooks and Rio are managing the horses.” She finally releases her death grip and waves a hand dismissively behind her.
I suck in oxygen like a drowning man.
My heart sinks a little. It’s disappointing, that my brothers and my dad aren’t here to greet me, but it doesn’t surprise me. Ranching doesn’t stop for anything—including the return of a prodigal, apparently.
“Horses?” I croak, still catching my breath.
When did they get horses? Dad never mentioned it when they visited. Not that he talked about much. He was too overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of LA. But I was between shoots. I didn’t have time to come home, so they came to me for Christmas.
Cash, Rio, and Brooks stayed behind to cover the ranch, and then the three of them came out last year for a quick weekend while Dad had everything under control. They’re the sons Dad understood. The ones he always wanted.
Not his singer/actor firstborn.
Welcome home. Where the drama never fades.
“Mmm. They started building their herd about six months ago. Rio runs ’em and Brooks trains ’em. Grandpa gave them a little money to get started, and it seems like the whole state is starting to take notice.”
Looks like I needed to call my brothers more often.
Fuck. It hurts being on the outside looking in, even if it’s my own doing.
Despite that, pride for my brothers shoots through me.
Brooks always did have a way with horses—he could calm the roughest, wildest ones with a patience nobody else in the family possessed. Except Mama.
And she has the patience of a saint. She has to, being surrounded by six men.
“What about Gramps? I thought he’d be here.” I gesture to the rocking chair he favored when I was a kid.
“He’s probably down at the barn. Why don’t you go tell him dinner is almost ready?” There’s a knowing gleam in her eye.
Gramps doesn’t travel farther than Austin anymore. He hasn’t since before I left at fifteen. He’s never been on an airplane. And he for damn sure hates cell phones.
And since being here stirs up so many emotions surrounding my relationship with Dad, I haven’t seen the old man since I was fifteen. He wrote letters instead. Lots of them. And I responded to every single one.
But even Gramps hasn’t mentioned the horses. Although he did say something about Rio and Brooks having more responsibilities to tend to lately. I didn’t ask him to elaborate, figuring Dad was turning over more of his tasks to them.
“I’ll go get him.” I set my duffel bag on the porch and spin around. “I’ll get that when I get back.”
It was pointless to tell her that. I should have known it would be. Instantly, she snatches it up as if it doesn’t weigh half what she does and shoulders it inside.
God dammit.
I follow her in and take it from her before she reaches the stairs.
“Your room is ready for you,” she tells me, heading toward the kitchen.
The air in the house carries with it a fan-fucking-tastic scent. Damn. Dinner can’t come soon enough. Airport snacks have nothing on Mama’s cooking.
Walking up the stairs is like stepping back in time. The pictures on the walls haven’t changed. The setup at the top of the stairs hasn’t changed. Mama and Dad’s bedroom is at the end, with two smaller rooms lining either side of the narrow hallway.
In my old room, I drop my duffel. Then I’m am headed down the well-worn path to the barn in no time at all.
The clear blue sky above is dotted with fluffy white clouds, the barn in the distance looking exactly like it did the last time I was home.
Behind me, feet crunch on the gravel as the cameraman follows.
Halfway there, I stop, taking in the picture-perfect scene. The barn, the hills, the deep blue sky.
What will Sydney think of this place?
I haven’t had the chance to talk to her since the compass ceremony.
Liar.
Fine. I did have some time. Yet I didn’t seek her out.
And not because I was worried for her safety.
Now that Kendall is gone, I can breathe again.
Because Kendall has to be Scarlett. The tattoo, the jealousy, and the threats.
They all point to her. It’s why I haven’t bothered to replace Danny.
I don’t have to worry about her anymore.
Yet I’ve still avoided Sydney. Because I need time to process how she makes me feel.
Add in the mixture of emotions that come along with going home, and I just couldn’t handle it all at once.
I take off again, the footfalls behind me starting up again too. Great. Gramps is going to love this.
The greens and yellows of the grasses surrounding the bright white barn bring all kinds of memories flooding back.
Many that include the lone figure that comes into view as I approach.
He leans against the fence, stroking the gray-flecked neck of a brown gelding who is almost as old as I am.
Gramps has shrunken a little since I last saw him, wearing a cream-colored cowboy hat on his head and a pair of well-worn wranglers ironed with military precision.
He doesn’t move or speak, but he sees me. He always has.
I sidle up next to him along the rail, running my hand along the other side of Buck’s neck. Without fanfare, Gramps reaches out and wraps his free arm around me.
“Cyrus.” His voice is weathered, worn like an old saddle but still as strong as it was when we stood like this when I barely came up to his hip.
Cyrus. Because to him and Mama, to Dad—that’s who I am.
“Hey, Gramps.”
“Welcome home.” He squeezes my shoulder.
His scent washes over me, citrus and sage from his aftershave mixed with leather and earth. I have to blink to clear the sting of tears from my eyes.
In this instant, the fast-paced merry-go-round of my life slows, settling into my bones like a sun-drenched summer morning and ushering in more memories I made in this place. With the man standing at my side.
I lift my free arm to his shoulder, completing the circle of man and horse.
“It’s good to be home,” I tell him.
Surprisingly, I mean it.
I shouldn’t have stayed away this long.
We’re silent for a while. Too many heartbeats to count. I have no idea how much time passes before Buck wanders away, headed for the water trough.
“You still ride?” I ask as we watch Buck move lazily through the paddock.
He snorts a laugh. “If I did, your mama’d raise hell. Buck’s too old to ride anyway, and my bones don’t feel like learning a new gait.”
Without another word, he heads in the direction of the barn. I join him like he knew I would. While we walk into the dark building, the camera man stays at the entrance, fear and disgust written all over him.
I chuckle.
City boy.
On each side of the walkway, horse heads pop over the half-doors, dark eyes watching us quietly as we move from stall to stall. Gramps has a treat and a scratch for every resident.
“I don’t recognize any of them,” I murmur.
Naturally, a lot has changed in the last sixteen years. Still, it’s unsettling to see the stalls of familiar horses now occupied by new stock.
“You might recognize this’n,” he says and whistles sharply.
An almost black nose appears first, the color lightening a fraction as the animal shifts in the shadows. The chestnut coloring is familiar. So are the warm brown eyes. The eyes that once read me so well, that saw me for me, just like Gramps did.
Echo.
Fuck. A weight presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe as memories swamp me. Campouts, trail rides, doing my homework in his stall while he stood sentry.
Remy was my best friend, but Echo completed our trio.
“Hey there, boy.” I scratch between his ears, muscle memory kicking in. A reflex I should have forgotten.
Lucky for me, I didn’t.
He bumps my arm with his head in greeting.
Gramps hands me his last two sugar cubes. “He’s always the last one. I spoil him with whatever’s left.”
I flatten my palm next to his nose, and he lips up the sweet treat, nodding as if to tell me that I got the routine right.
“I figured Dad would have sold him,” I murmur.
“Nah. He’s family. Brooks takes him out occasionally. Or your mom. He gets his treats and pets from me. He’s got a happy life. Why change it?”
Isn’t that the question of the hour?
I’ve been asking myself that same thing since I kissed Sydney the first time.
If life was so perfect before, why can’t I get a certain redhead off my mind?