3. Decker
“You happy here, Son?”
My father, Colton Slade, is a man of few words, always has been. He’s also always been extremely perceptive when it comes to us kids.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You sure about that?” He doesn’t turn to look at me, but he might as well have since it feels like he’s staring right through me. Instead, he takes a long sip of his coffee as he continues to look out the back window of my kitchen.
“I guess I could be happier. Why?” I poured my heart out to Ranger when I was home three months ago, but I know that stayed between us.
“I’m not blind, Son, and neither is your mother.” He turns, putting his coffee down on the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest, the “dad move” he always did when we were kids that signaled he wanted to talk to us “man to man.”
“I guess I didn’t anticipate how hard it would be living away from the family is all, but it’s nothing I can’t work through.”
He nods his head slowly. “There’s no use in staying miserable just to prove a point that doesn’t need to be proven, Deck.” I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up his hand. “Now listen, I know you wanted to prove to me and your brother that you could run this ranch, and you’ve more than proven that, but I need you back home. I need you to run Slade Ranch with your brother and your cousin. I can’t do it anymore.”
“Dad,” I start to protest, but he doesn’t want to hear it.
“I’m not saying this to guilt you into coming home, so get that out of your head right now. I’m saying this as a father who wants to spend more time with his grandkids, and a husband who wants to spend more time with his wife.”
“So was this your plan all along when you retired from running the brewery a few years ago?”
“Honestly, no. I was convinced I had another seven or more years left in me for the ranch, but after this last blood pressure scare, your mother—and my doctor—helped me realize it’s not worth it.”
“Are you taking your meds like you’re supposed to, Dad?”
“Don’t worry about it; your mother has it handled,” he says with a tinge of frustration in his voice. “Listen, with the help of the rest of your cousins, this ranch down here won’t miss a beat. You hired some of the finest cowboys I’ve seen, and they know what they’re doing.”
“Tyler and Ranger have it under control up there, Dad. Come on, there’s no point in me returning home just to be in their way.”
“You know, Deck,” he runs his hand over his jaw, another one of his moves from my childhood that let me know he was about to take a trip down memory lane, “when your uncles and I were younger—just starting to take over the brewery for Dad and really expanding the ranch—we all agreed on something. We decided that among the five of us boys and our kids someday, we wouldn’t have to be tied down to the business like my dad was. We’ve been blessed with a large family, Decker—a large family that values each other. I want you boys to manage the ranch so you can enjoy your kids while they’re young, and you can soak up every second with your future wife.”
I’ve never heard my dad talk this much. He’s a passionate man, having lost his first wife so young. Being a single father made him realize what he was passionate about. He had an auto repair shop for years when we were young. It was something he enjoyed doing, but as the Slade name and empire expanded from just Slade Brewing to Slade Industries International, he let it go to fully focus on the ranch and his board seat.
“How’s Milly enjoying her new role on the board after taking over for you?”
“I think she tolerates it. If I had to bet, she and Kent will move to Denver within the next five years, and I don’t blame them. His family is there, and we both know Milly is a city girl at heart. Which is another reason I want you back at the ranch: I want you to be ready to step up and take over that position for me on the board.”
I sigh and take a seat at the kitchen table. I was not expecting to have this conversation this morning. Dad and Tyler always come down for the big cattle sales, but now I’m wondering if him seeing me come home those few months ago pushed his thoughts in this direction. I didn’t tell them anything about Camilla—I didn’t tell anyone, actually—but I know I looked like hell when I came home.
And then I did the unthinkable. I can feel my face growing red at the memory of kissing Juniper. I’ve replayed that kiss over and over in my brain so many times, I worry I’m going to wear it out. I can still taste her—still feel her body melt into mine as I held her.
“Is that a ‘yes,’ Son?”
My head snaps up to look at my dad, and without overthinking it, I say the first answer that comes to mind.
“Yes.”
The second I say it, it feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I guess I didn’t realize how heavily this has been weighing on me. But what I can’t decipher is if the relief is because I’ll be far away from Camilla and can get a fresh start, or if it’s because I’ll be back home, and all of those missed family moments I treasure through photographs will be my reality—though without the temptation of Juniper Riley.