30. Lana
30
LANA
B eck had corralled Mason and my father into the backyard after dinner to throw the football around, the dogs getting in on the game. Holland had joined them, providing commentary from a lawn chair while making another dozen bracelets for her friends at school.
“We like him very much,” my mother says, handing me a cup of hot tea as we watch them from the kitchen.
“I was stupid and I almost let him get away,” I admit, only turning to look at her when she doesn’t respond. “And it’s crazy because I never felt this way about Jacob and we were married for years.”
“Marriage doesn’t make two people right for each other, and honestly, Lana, I’ve never seen you so happy.”
“He’s so good to me. And the kids. And it’s just nice to have someone who wants to be here.” I pause. “That’s sad, isn’t it?”
“It’s real. And you’re finally seeing a man who wants to put in the effort.” She chuckles. “Not to mention, he is crazy about you.”
“I’m crazy about him too.”
“I can tell.” My mother pulls me in for a hug, holding me tight as everyone comes in for dessert. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers before releasing me and moving to help the kids get slices of pie before Beck ends up trying to scoop out half the thing for himself.
“You were right,” Mason whispers, dropping a kiss on my cheek.
“About what exactly? I mean not that I’m complaining; I love being right.” I wink and his eyes sparkle as he looks at me.
“I really like your parents.”
“And they really like you, so the feeling’s mutual.”
“It helps.”
“What does?”
“Knowing they approve of me. Of us. ”
“Just wait until my father challenges you to a cannonball contest this summer or?—”
“I’m still undefeated!” my father yells from the table, making Beck’s head whip toward him.
“What? No way, Grandpa! I totally beat you that last time!”
They argue as my mother shakes her head and Holland giggles, taking her grandfather’s side and then squealing when Beck tickles her until she relents.
“Just wait,” I whisper, leaning back on Mason, my heart so full it’s close to bursting.
“I don’t want to.”
Turning to look at him, I press my fingertips against his lips and shake my head. “Tell me tomorrow.”
He kisses them before taking my hand and holding it in his. “Tomorrow.”
MASON
I left Lana’s not long after dessert, my body and mind spent after enduring so much over the last few days. I needed the time to process, to breathe, and to give thanks for the way it had all worked out.
I’m halfway home, Descending North playing through the speakers, when I spot someone on the roadway up ahead. They’re walking, and while plenty of people walk in this town, they don’t quite walk like this.
Slowing my truck, I creep up beside the elderly figure and smile as I roll down the window.
“How ya doing, Grandad?”
“Mason, my boy. It’s a nice night for a walk, isn’t it?”
I chuckle. “Sure is. Can I give you a ride?”
“I guess if you’re offering,” he says, trying to sound put out as I throw the truck into park and jump out, my boots hitting the pavement with a soft thud. Despite his grumbling, he lets me help him into the truck.
Hal Greene is the kind of man people aspire to be—old and still driving half the town mad with his antics. He’s wearing a light flannel with well-worn jeans, cowboy boots, and a hat, the whole look very much southern small town.
“Montana know you’re out here?”
“Listen, boy. Not everything that I do needs to be micromanaged. A whole bunch of mother hens,” he grouses, and I chuckle as I climb into the driver’s seat. He’d had a heart attack the year before and we’d all taken turns fussing over him.
“Just because you’re so loved. Gotta make sure that you’re safe.”
He snorts. “More like trying to suck the fun out of everything.” This gets an actual laugh out of me because the man is entirely full of shit.
“Listen, I know for a fact that you and Ellison got the big tractor stuck this week.”
“Don’t be telling all my secrets.” His grin is full of mischief. And even though the cat’s out of the bag, it’s still a lot of fun watching Montana’s eye twitch every time he hears the call that the tractor’s stuck.
“Haven’t seen you around much. What have you been up to?”
“I saw you last week,” I say, turning my head just to look at him. His smile is wide as if I didn’t know damn well that he’s trying to push my buttons.
“Got tangled up over that girl, huh?”
“More than a little,” I say, unable to stop myself from smiling. “I met her parents tonight.”
“That’s a big step,” he says, sounding a little surprised.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted,” I admit. “We got into it a little bit, she and I. Things with her ex are messy, and she was trying to handle it on her own.” I swallow hard. “She tried to push me away. We talked it out eventually, but it was that and then her parents brought Beck and Holland home and we had dinner.” I stare at him out of the corner of my eye. “It was a whole thing.”
He chuckles. “Sounds like it.” But when I don’t say anything, he adds, “So why the long face?”
“It’s the first time in my life I have more than me and my brother to worry about. The choices I make affect them too.”
“Part of growin’ up, son.”
“I know, but”—I fight back the wave of emotion and count to five before forcing out the words—“I’m scared I’ll fail them. That I won’t be enough.”
“Pull over up there,” he says, motioning ahead with his hand. Following his direction, I ease the truck onto the side of the road and put it in park. He grunts, unbuckling his belt as he turns to face me. “You should be scared.”
The words are like a punch to the gut, his eyes serious as he stares at me. “Thanks for that,” I manage, trying to infuse some levity as my lungs constrict in my chest.
Grandad rolls his eyes and pokes his finger against my chest. “If you’re not scared, you’re not doin’ it right. Be a good partner, father, and friend. Tell her she’s right even when she’s not, and for the love of all that is holy, look for your damn keys before you ask her where they are.”
“Sage advice.”
“Don’t be smart with me, boy.” He delivers the line with a straight face, but it’s not long before a smile splits his cheeks. “Age means nothing when it comes to the miles on your boots, and you,”—he nods toward me—“have done a lot of walkin’.”
“Yeah,” I whisper as his bear of a hand settles on my shoulder.
“You bring ’em to the house when you’re ready. Celeste and I would love to meet them.”
“Celeste, huh?” I tease, getting us back on the road as he puts his seatbelt back in place.
He shrugs. “Nan will always be my girl, but it’s nice to have some company now too.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Me too. Just remember what I said.”
“Which part?”
“All of it, son. Remember all of it.”