Chapter 30
CY
“Gramps.”
The sun is slowly waking up, the sky painted in peaches and yellows. The two of us stand side by side, watching Buck eat his breakfast, coffee steaming from the mugs perched on the top rail of the fence.
“Hmm?”
I side-eye him, cataloging his Stetson and another pair of worn jeans. “Can you tell me the story of how you and Gran met again?”
Last time I heard it, I was probably nine, so the details are fuzzy. I’d heard it before then, but that day, he was retelling it to Brooks and Rio for the first time after Rio asked about Gran.
If Gramps seems surprised by my question, he doesn’t show it.
“Gran’s father, your great-grandpa Dean, owned this property.
My pop, Great-Grandpa Edward, owned the ranch next door.
I knew your gran from the time I was old enough to understand what knowing someone was.
We went to the same school. But because our dads hated each other, we grew up hating each other too.
Our dads had been fighting about a fence line and stolen cattle our whole lives, so we kept our distance.
Dad made sure that from a young age, I understood that she was a lyin’, cheatin’ Curtis girl. ”
Buck, who’s finished the alfalfa I brought over this morning, drifts to the far edge of the fence.
“What changed?”
Gramps sips his coffee, scrutinizing me over the rim. “How do you know it did?” His mustache twitches as he fights his smile.
Fucking smart-ass.
At least I come by it naturally.
“You did end up marrying her.” The sarcasm is clear in my voice.
He lifts his hat and runs a hand through his white hair before lowering it into place.
“I was out ridin’ one afternoon. The plan was to go swimming since it was so blistering hot outside.
Only I got to the swimming hole—that was on Darby property, by the way—and there she was.
Sara Jean. Swimmin’ in my swimming hole.
Turns out, she liked the little waterfall that came down the rocks. ”
Fondness for him and for Gran spreads through me. I know the exact place he’s talking about.
I’ve ridden that path more times than I can count. Sometimes with my brothers, sometimes with friends, and once or twice with a pretty girl.
Would Sydney like it?
I’m taking her on a date tomorrow. Could I convince her to check it out?
“What did you do?” I ask.
He harrumphs.
“That lyin’, cheatin’ Curtis girl was on my family’s property. What do you think I did? I rode straight up to the edge of the water and told her she was trespassing.”
A scoff escapes me. I don’t remember much about Gran, but from what I do, I can imagine her response.
“That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.” The words are diplomatic. In reality, Gran didn’t take shit from anybody.
My earliest memories of her involve her giving Gramps a hard time and him pulling her into a dance in the middle of the living room.
He chuckles. “Nope. She came stalking out of the water madder than a wet hen, and she was wearin’ nothin’ but her birthday suit.
I was stunned stupid, and she got one over on me, dumping me out of the saddle onto the ground before I could get my wits about me.
Hands on her hips, she lectured me like I was the one trespassin’ on her family’s property.
I could hardly focus on what she was saying because I couldn’t stop looking. ”
“Gramps,” I groan.
This time his laugh is full-bodied. “What? You think you’re the only red-blooded male in the Darby family, son?”
“I’d just rather not think of you and Gran…” I trail off, shuddering.
“Your gran was something else, Cyrus. She was a firecracker.”
A firecracker.
Like Sydney.
“So that’s how the two of you got together? Because she was…in your swimming hole?” I deliberately avoid mentioning her state of undress. I’d rather not risk images coming to mind.
“Nah. But that was when we started making decisions on our own. Once she stopped lecturing, she realized she was naked, but she didn’t go rushin’ for cover.
No, she demanded I close my eyes while she got dressed.
We spent the afternoon talking. Getting to know one another.
And made plans to meet again the following day. ”
“Did you kiss her?” I ask.
“Do I look like I have stupid tattooed across here, boy?” He runs a finger along the brim of his hat.
“I didn’t kiss her that day. But by the second week we were meeting up regularly, I’d built up enough courage and was pretty sure she wouldn’t punch first and ask questions later.
and when I kissed her, she asked me what took me so long. ”
“That sounds like Gran,” I tell him, a content smile lifting at the corners of my mouth.
He nods. “She was quite the woman, Cyrus James. And for the forty-seven years I was lucky enough to be married to her, she kept me on my toes.”
He turns back to the fence, his eyes bright.
As I survey him, my own feel damp. Fuck cancer.
That’s what took Gran when I was five.
We’re silent for several moments, letting Gran’s memory wrap around the two of us, like an embrace. He clears his throat a few times, like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t speak.
Gran was a firecracker, he says. It makes me wonder what Gran would have thought of Sydney.
And what would Sydney have thought of my gran? I wish the two could have met.
Gramps pulls an old cloth handkerchief from his pocket, blowing his nose, his watery eyes meeting mine. They’re suspiciously bright.
“You, uh, well, I guess…that is…we should probably go feed Echo his breakfast.”
Fuck, tears burn my nose at the grief that still lives and breathes inside him. Gran’s been gone for twenty-six years. But she lives on because of his love for her.
And I’m starting to see the appeal of a love like that.
“Chores never seem to be finished,” I say, giving him the subject change he needs.
Another memory washes over me. This one ingrained after years of daily repetition. Walking the same wooden aisle. Buckets of feed. The quiet munching of oats. The smell of horses as I saddled them, getting them ready for the day.
Is that why I was up before dawn this morning?
Because that’s what I’m used to here? Too wired for sleep, unable to stay in Sydney’s bed even though I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
I crept out of her room and back into mine long enough to change, then headed downstairs.
Finding Gramps at the coffee pot was a fortunate accident.
He poured me a cup, and the two of us walked quietly down the path to the barn.
It’s too early for the camera crews.
It’s just the two of us and the horses.
Almost perfect.
“You still remember how to do it. Some things never leave us,” he says.
It’s true what they say. You can take the boy out of the ranch, but you can’t take the ranch out of the boy.
Muscle memory kicked in as we fed Buck. Without focusing on it, it was done.
“Just like falling off a horse,” I tell him, using one of his old sayings.
Because cowboys don’t ride bikes. They ride horses.
His mustache twitches again and his shoulder bumps mine as he follows me into the barn.
I measure the feed for Echo and do the same for the handful of other horses. When they’re all settled, I ask Gramps the question that’s been on my mind since I woke up.
“When did you know you loved Gran?” I force the words out quickly, then avert my gaze so he doesn’t read me like a fucking book.
For a long minute he’s quiet, his eyes boring into me, but I remain focused on my feet. “You catchin’ feelings for one of these girls, grandson, or are you just not ready to say the words out loud yet?”
I straighten and zero in on him.
Sure enough, he’s studying me, waiting. The picture of patience.
Fuck. How does he know?
His gaze locks with mine and his eyes narrow. Then, with a breath out, he nods.
I lift my shoulders and drop them. “I don’t know.”
He reaches up, cuffing me not so gently on the back of the head, and goddamn, it hurts. He’s got a hand like a brick.
“You’re not an idiot either, grandson. You get that from me. Which means I have a good idea who’s inspirin’ you to ask all these questions.”
When I don’t say anything, he gives a knowing huff.
“That’s what I thought. And let me tell you, if I was fifty years younger and not terrified your gran wouldn’t come back and haunt me in my sleep, I’d give you a run for your money with that redhead.”
“Strawberry blond.” The second the words are out, I groan.
Fuck. I didn’t mean to give away so much. Now he has confirmation that Sydney is the woman on my mind.
He grunts. “I said what I said. Now what do you say we go get breakfast?”
“You head up. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I tell him.
Once he’s gone, I turn back to Echo’s stall. He peers out, watching me as I dig in my pocket and pull out the sugar cube.
“What do you think, boy? Is she it for me?”
If someone had told me before I begrudgingly agreed to this show that it would end up like this, I’d have told them they were out of their mind.
But here I am.
Last night, something…shifted. For me, at least.
But I’m pretty sure it did for her too.
The plan I had to break up with the woman I ended up choosing at the end of this show is fading, being replaced by a new vision. One that involves Sydney and me together after all of this.
But if I shoot my shot, will she say yes?