19. Chapter Nineteen
The morning sun peeks over the horizon as I climb into my old pickup truck, and my heart’s doing that thing again—thumping like a nervous rabbit in a thicket, all because Rose’s name flashed on my phone one too many times this past week. In the meantime, all the ignored calls stack up like hay bales, building a wall between our friendship.
“Good for her, bad for me,” I mutter, turning the key in the ignition. The engine rumbling to life is a comforting sound that tells me I’m making the right choice. I need space and time to think without her sweet voice luring me back.
Midland may only be a two-and-a-half-hour drive, but distance is my friend today. As the miles stretch out ahead, I can’t help but feel like I’m fleeing from something—or someone—that could change everything. The livestock auction is just an excuse, really. It’s the open road I crave—the only place I know I can trust to clear a troubled mind.
Rolling down the window, I let the wind whip through the cab, carrying away pieces of my resolve. It’s been years since I’ve allowed myself to tumble into the messy rodeo that comes with loving someone. Camille was my first and only ride, but now there’s Rose—a tornado of laughter and old memories that stirs up feelings I thought had gone to dust after she left.
“Camille,” I say, glancing at the empty passenger seat, willing her to appear with one of her knowing smiles. “What do you make of this Rose situation?”
No answer.
With each passing mile marker, I consider Rose’s presence has wildflowers growing in every crack of my battered heart. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I knew since the first time I laid eyes on her that she was special, and it was my own fault for not going after her like I should have back then.
“Well, maybe if you’d stop pulling away,” I scold myself. But then again, what if I don’t, and it’s all for nothing? I remind myself that there’s safety in loneliness and that I’ve already found love in this life. I should be grateful.
“Ah, who am I kidding?” I say, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. The truth is, I’m scared. Scared of that second fall—the one that could break more than bones. I’m scared of letting Rose see the real me, the man behind the jokes and the wide-brimmed hat. Maybe that’s why I’m driving halfway across Texas to avoid the conversation that would either throw open the gates to something extraordinary or leave me trampled beneath the hooves of the one that got away.
What if I was meant to die alone with a broken heart, just like my old man?
The hum of the engine and the fields of sunflowers offer little distraction from my thoughts, and I let my mind wander back to a story my dad must have told me a dozen times growing up about “the one who got away.”
“Son,” he’d say. “Before your mama, there was Sarah. I thought she hung the moon. But it wasn’t meant to be. When I met your mother, I knew Sarah was just a chapter in the story, not the ending.”
“Now, don’t get me wrong,” he went on. “I loved Sarah. But when it comes to love, you only get one shot at the kind of love that lasts a lifetime.” And I suppose he was right. Because he loved my mother until the day she died.
I never knew my dad to so much as think about another woman after she passed. I always assumed it was his way of honoring her memory, and I guess a part of me still thinks I should do the same for Camille. I promised Gemma I’d try dating again, but that was more for her than it ever was for me.
The weekend flies by in a blur of heifers and horse shows, and not even a Saturday filled with retail therapy at the stockyards pulls me out of my funk when I pull up back at the ranch just in time for Sunday dinner with Gemma and the rest of the family.
“Grandpa Henry!” Hazel’s voice cuts through the air like a bell, and I smile despite the weight on my heart.
“Hey there, Hazelnut,” I reply, scooping her into my arms for a quick hug before we all settle around the table. But even a salad fresh from the garden and Gemma’s famous pot roast don’t lift my spirits. Asher is talking about some bull he rode at the last rodeo, but my mind is miles away, tangled up with thoughts of Rose.
“Grandpa, tell us a joke!” Hazel chimes in, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“Ah, Hazelnut, I’m not sure I have any good ones left in me today.” I try to keep my tone light, but it comes out more tired than anything else.
Gemma looks at me then, her keen green eyes narrow. “Don’t have any good ones? Daddy, are you sure you’re feeling alright? You look like something’s on your mind?”
Hazel must sense the shift in mood because she obediently cleans her plate and asks to be excused. “Dad, can I go see the new fish in Grandpa’s pond now?”
“Fine by me. Boss?” Asher looks across the table for my approval, and I give a slight nod before she’s out of her chair and headed for the front door.
“Stay out of the water,” Gemma calls behind her before returning her attention to me. “Seriously, Dad. You’ve been off all evening. Is everything okay? This doesn’t… have anything to do with Rose, does it?” Gemma’s question feels like a gentle probe, but it might as well be a spotlight pointed straight at me.
“Rose is...” I say, unsure of how to I’m going to explain that I’ve been avoiding Rose?
“Rose is what?” Gemma presses, and I can tell she won’t let this go until I give her something.
“Rose is... making me question a lot of things,” I admit, the truth feeling both heavy and freeing all at the same time. “And I guess I got spooked, so I’ve been avoiding her phone calls.”
“Dad!”Gemma leans back in her chair with a bewildered look. “Look, nobody is asking you to forget Mom. But you and I both know she’d want you to be happy. And if Rose could be part of that happiness, the last thing you should be doing is pushing her away.”
“I know, trust me. But I have no idea how to be there for her when I don’t even know if she’s gonna stick around.”
“And why wouldn’t she?” Suspicion returns to Gemma’s eyes with a vengeance.
“You haven’t heard? Rose’s husband is about to go to trial for fraud, and the whole town is accusing her of using me to get back at him when the truth is, he’s the one who had an affair.”
Gemma stares at me blankly, then looks to Asher, who shrugs dumbly. “Okay, how did I not know about any of this?”
“Beats me. Everyone else sure seems to know Rose’s business,” I say dryly.
“Geez, I feel terrible now. All this time, I’ve been so focused on finding you a date that I never thought to ask her how she was doing. She must think I’m a real jerk.”
“Gemma, honey, Rose thinks the world of you. And she really did want to help. I’m the one who screwed things up by promising I’d protect her and then letting her down all in the same breath,” I mutter. “Now, she’s talking about leaving town just to get away from it all.”
“Right,” Gemma says, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “So let me make sure I have this straight. You have feelings for Rose. You tell her about them. And she doesn’t run. But then some yahoos in town who can’t mind their own beeswax start running their loud mouths, and you decide to play the noble fool by ignoring her calls instead of talking to her about it? Geez, Dad. Can you blame her?”
I wince at her choice of words, but there’s no denying the truth in them. “I thought if I stayed away, she’d be better off until things calmed down,” I say defensively. “It was her idea in the first place.”
“Well, duh! But just because she doesn’t want to pull you into her mess doesn’t mean you shouldn’t fight for her anyway.”
“If I may,” Asher cuts in, his voice steady and sure. “Life’s not some rodeo where you only have eight seconds to prove yourself, and then it’s over. You can’t think the ride is over just because you fell off the bull. You have to prove you’re not going to quit any time there’s a little turbulence.”
Gemma nods vigorously. “Exactly! Rose is strong, Dad. She doesn’t need you to protect her. What she needs—what any woman needs—is a man willing to stand by her side no matter how rough the ride gets.”
“Isn’t that what you always tell me? To hang on tight and enjoy the adventure?” Asher asks.
“Adventure’s one thing,” I say, scratching my jaw. “Heartache’s another.”
“Sometimes they’re two sides of the same coin,” Gemma says, carefully reaching out to cover my hand with hers. “Don’t let fear decide your future, Dad. Take a leap of faith. Go talk to her, and I mean, really talk to her. And listen to what she has to say.”
“Yeah, definitely listen,“ Asher nods in agreement.
“Alright,” I say, feeling a knot loosen in my chest. “Alright, I’ll do it. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go see Rose.”
Gemma’s smile is warm. “I’m proud of you, Daddy. You’re one of the good ones. Don’t ever forget I said that.”
“Thanks, Peanut. I have my moments.”
Once the house is quiet again, I think back to Dad’s story about Sarah and remember asking him one day if he ever regretted not ending up with her. He’d smile and shake his head. “Regret is for people who are too afraid of what comes next.”
I know the story was meant to teach me about moving forward and owning my decisions as a man, yet here I am, clinging onto Camille like she’s the last life preserver in a sea of uncertainty.
Would it be so wrong to believe that maybe I’m allowed more than one shot at this whole love thing rather than to die alone with a broken heart like I watched him do right after Gemma was born?
Maybe that’s what he’d expect me to do, but the difference between him and me is that Sarah never came back to Sugar Plum after the woman he chose died.