Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
Tagger
Beck jumps out of the rental car before I have time to put it in park, practically giving me a heart attack. I’m fast on the brake, so no damage is done. I’ll need to remind him how cars work before he starts pulling some stupid shit like I did when I was a teen.
Jumping from one truck bed to another while flying down the highway.
Playing chicken at the top of The Ridge and hoping your brakes work.
Drinking too much after winning the State championship and thinking it wise to do donuts in a Dover County shopping mall parking lot.
Real dumb shit.
I’m glad my dad never found out, or surviving a string of bad decisions would have been the least of my concerns. He wasn’t hard on my brother and me, but he was strict. I’ve tried to find more balance with my son . . . that is, until he jumps out of a car that’s stopped for less than a second. At least it’s a soft landing on the lawn if he did tumble.
Anna would still kill me, but I have a feeling my little daredevil would wear a cast with pride.
My parents come out of the house and down to greet us. Beck throws himself into my mom’s arms, so excited to be back in the Pass. “Grammy!” My dad gets a hold of that wiggly kid before he can escape to see the chickens. He’s been talking about that since we left Manhattan. “Will you take me to see them, Grandpa?”
“Sure will, rascal. Let me go say hi to your dad first.”
It’s not only my parents who love the bond they share with my son.
My mom greets me with a hug. “Happy to have you home again.”
“Me too.”
She hooks her arm around mine, and we take a few steps back away from the car. “You said you were coming back for the festival. It’s always such fun. Beck’s going to love it.”
“Biggest event of the year. I didn’t want to miss it.”
“Was that the only thing you were missing?” I look to my side to find her eyes ready to search mine.
Maybe I’m reading too much into the question, but it feels like there’s an agenda behind it. I want to share more with them, to tell them I’ve fallen for Pris. My mom’s not one to start rumors. I’m her son, so I know I can trust her. Pris and I have an agreement in place. Until we decide otherwise, together, not even my parents are privy to the information.
Although dancing around topics only makes people more suspicious, I keep it vague but honest. “Not only that.”
She hums with a huff at the end. “You’re a tough nut, Tagger.” She pats my arm. “I’m here when you’re ready to share. But no matter what, I’m happy to have you home again.”
Leaving me to stand near my dad, she calls, “Hey, Beck?” He jumps off the porch steps, nailing the landing, and looks up. “You’re here at the best time of year. Peach season.” When she reaches him, they climb up the steps to the porch together. “I’m going to teach you how to make my blue-ribbon-winning peach cobbler. Want to know what the secret ingredient is?”
“Yes?” he asks, enraptured by her storytelling. She makes everyone feel like they’re the most important person in the world, or in this case, you’ve been chosen to get in on her secrets.
I know the secret ingredient before she even reveals it. “Love.”
She stops at the door and turns back. Giving me a smile, she nods. “That’s right. Love.”
Beck asks, “What does love taste like?”
“It’s different for everyone, but you’ll know the moment you find it.” It’s been a long time since I learned her secret to great cooking—a dash of love, a pinch of kindness, and putting your heart into everything you do. She even has it stitched and hanging on the wall in the kitchen. I’ve heard it a million times and read it even more, but it never hit until now. That’s what she meant. When you find it, you’ll know.
There’s no denying I’ve found it with Pris.
What am I going to do with this knowledge? I know that’s the next question my mom would ask. Pris would, too. They’re not so different. Unlike my ex.
Pulling me in for a solid pat on the back, my dad says, “I hear we’re getting you and the little guy for five days.”
“Five whole days,” I emphasize with a chuckle. I’m not sure he knows what he’s taking on, considering he loves to “fish,” a.k.a. nap, during the day. “Is that alright?”
“This is your home, Tag.”
I catch the tail end of Beck telling my mom, “. . .for the whole summer.”
“I hope you get to spend more time in Peachtree Pass with us, then.”
I was already trying to make some extended visit plans, but it’s good to know we’re welcome, especially because it’s not easy to take on a six and thirty-year-old when you’re used to quiet in the house.
Popping the trunk, I get our suitcases out and set them down. My dad takes Beck by the hand, and says, “It’s also rodeo time this weekend. Beck would make a fine mutton buster.”
I’m undecided if that’s a good or bad thing. Anna would kill me, but Beck would probably have the time of his life. “I told him Rollingwood Ranch has a few sheep I can show him up close. I won’t pressure him, so we’ll see if he’s up for it.”
“You’ve mentioned he’s a pro at riding the subway with you. It’ll be good to see him trying to ride a sheep.” He chuckles, glancing at the door just before it shuts behind them. “Once he gets a taste, he might want to ride in the rodeo after that.”
Picking up my suitcase, I reply, “That would be hard to pursue living in New York.”
I’m met with a side stare. “You couldn’t live in New York. You’d need a home base to raise him with some acreage and have some animals.”
My dad has never understood the appeal of the city. I don’t think it’s worth trying to change his mind at this age. But he has a good point. I doubt Beck is ever joining the rodeo, not if his mother has her way, but giving him a home base where he can open the door and run outside is what every kid needs. Earth under their feet instead of concrete. Waiting at a cattle crossing instead of being a part of the herd at a crosswalk when the light turns green.
We have one drive-thru in the county and no stoplight. It would be a major change for him. Although I know he likes to visit Texas, is it somewhere he’d like to live? And more importantly, is it the best decision for him?
I turned out alright, if you ask my closest friends. Enemies will always say shit.
This is not the first time I’ve thought about moving back, but I’m the closest I’ve ever been to seriously considering it. Pris and I have a lot to discuss, which I hope to do if I can sneak away for a bit.
Setting the small case down at his side, he asks, “Got any other plans? Going to see some friends?”
Since neither of us is rushing inside, I set my case down as well. We stand side by side, crossing our arms over our chest, looking more like each other every day. “Thought I’d look at painting the house.”
His gaze travels over to the house and studies it as if he hadn’t noticed the peeling paint. I know he has, but his pride won’t let him admit he’s no longer up for the task. Or shouldn’t be if I can keep him off ladders. “Looking at it isn’t going to get the job done.”
Chuckling, I say, “I plan on getting it done if you’re up for being a foreman over the site.” Justin Grange is an old-time cowboy. Fifth generation that we can account for. Just like his dad did for him, he taught us three things to live by: Talk is cheap and should be kept to a minimum, putting in the work is required whether working hard on a farm or on your marriage, and feeling useful gives us a purpose. I also just want to spend time with my dad.
Without making a big deal about it, he says, “I suppose I can fit that into my schedule. When are you starting?”
“Tomorrow. I want to take Mom to pick out a color, and I’ll get the supplies to bring back with me. Power wash it and then start the day after that.”
“It will look good with a fresh coat.” Reaching over, he squeezes my shoulder. “I reckon that will work for my schedule.”
Picking up the cases, we start for the house. I peek over at him, seeing the smile he can’t wipe from his face, and ask, “Are the fish biting?”
“They have been the past few naps.” He laughs and heads to the house. “We’re good with watching Beckett and getting him to bed if you want to go see those friends tonight.”
My mom knows. She’s good but subtle and probably knew how I felt about Pris before I did. She’s in tune with her family. She also told my dad. He’s not as subtle. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”
“Sounds good. Let’s get inside. I got Beckett his first cowboy hat. Thought it was time.” His sentimental side is showing. Being a grandpa looks good on him.
“He’ll love it.” I follow him inside, glad I don’t have to hide my girlfriend anymore. As for Beck, I still need to have that conversation with him.
I take Dad’s truck because it beats driving the rental and pull onto Greene property. Pris knew I was coming in today, yet she didn’t pressure me to come see her. She knows time with my parents is important and doesn’t want to take that away from me. But I’ve waited weeks to see her again and hold her in my arms. Waiting another hour wasn’t going to happen.
The sun has decided it’s tired, hanging lower in the sky and showering the fields in a golden hue. Other than my girl, no prettier sight in the world tops it.
Mr. Greene stands from his chair on the porch and moves to the railing to rest his weight against it. “I’m seeing ya enough to think you have business out here other than ranching.”
I walk closer, keeping my feet on the ground and giving him the upper hand in perspective. Not sure this charade is going to work much longer. Most people have too much time on their hands to miss the connections others make. My gut tells me he has suspicions. “I was looking for Pris.”
“Figured as much.” He shields his eyes and scans as far as he can see. “No sign of her yet for the night. Horses are in the stable, or you can take the UTV. Can’t give you more than that. She could be anywhere.”
I’m not dressed for riding since I didn’t change clothes before I left. Wearing my clothes from New York makes no sense anymore when I’m slowly building the wardrobe here. I’m not having a business meeting, so maybe I need to start dressing more comfortably when I travel here.
I choose the UTV to find her. Before I start it up, Mr. Greene says, “Not sure what your intentions are, Tagger, but my daughter deserves a good man in her life.”
I don’t know if he’s warning me or I just got his stamp of approval, but he’s already returned to the rocking chair he was previously occupying, so I can’t ask. Would I accept the answer if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear? I may be uncertain about a few things in my life, but Pris isn’t one of them. I want her dad’s approval, but I’m not walking away if he doesn’t give it.
Taking the corner, I cut across behind the cornfield and in front of the equipment barn before scoping out the lower pasture. It’s not until I take the long way around to the far end on the southeast side of the property heading toward the peach orchard that I see her and Sunrise.
Walking on foot, she leads Sunrise by the reins across the front of acres of blooming fruit trees. I cut the engine so I don’t disturb them. But having a moment to watch her in these surroundings she calls home makes me realize I can’t ask her to leave. It’s not a deciding factor for me, and I would never want her to leave a place she loves so much.
I start to walk along a path worn through the grass toward her. Catching the rays of the golden hour shining through strands of her hair makes it as vibrant as the sun. It’s so much redder than I ever thought. Wearing boots on her denim-clad legs, a black tank that hugs her curves, and a black hat that I recognize instantly, she’s spectacular like her surroundings.
When she catches me, she stops and puts a hand on her hip. She’s not annoyed, but she sure does love to give me a hard time. I love it, too. I love her mouthiness and strength, her killer body, and the quirky way her mind works sometimes.
I fucking love everything about her.
I stop about ten feet back or so. “Nice hat.”
She laughs and pushes it up on her forehead. “This old thing?”
As much as I love it when she runs into my arms, a sense of peace comes with the slower pace of this hello. “Heard you were out here somewhere on the ranch.”
She moves closer as her smile blooms like the peaches for me—perfect, ripe for kissing, and so beautiful. “Thousands of acres and you still found me. Intuition or?—?”
I close the gap, cupping her face and kissing her like I’ve wanted to since the moment she left my place. When our lips pull apart, I lean my head against hers, feeling whole with her in my arms again, and whisper, “Destiny.”