Chapter Two #2
Maybe because, for a while after Aunt Miriam died, Evelyn Storm was the one who held all of us together.
Not technically our grandmother by blood, but it’s never mattered to her. Not once.
Dad is Miriam Trust-Storm’s older brother. We moved to Wildhaven Storm to help Uncle Albert who had four girls to raise and a ranch threatening to swallow him whole after her unexpected passing.
As did his parents, Earl and Evelyn Storm.
She squeezes my cheek. “You’re getting thin.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“He literally won fifty thousand dollars this week,” Harleigh says. “I think the man’s in pretty good shape, Grandma.”
“Exactly,” I agree.
Grandma’s eyes meet mine again. “Money isn’t nutrients. We’ll have to fatten you up this summer.”
I laugh.
The dining room fills quickly after that.
Caison, Matty’s husband, arrives and takes a seat beside her at the far end of the table. Momma and Dad are seated next to Grandpa Earl and Grandma Evelyn. Harleigh and Shelby are across from them, along with Bryce and Charli. Uncle Albert is at the head of the table.
Royce and I take our places at the folding table next to the bay window that looks out over the ranch. Then the door opens, and our baby brother, Cabe, walks inside. He removes his cowboy hat and hangs it on a hook by the door, and he apologizes for being late before making his way over to us.
Cabe is Wildhaven Storm’s foreman, and he probably works harder than anyone else on this ranch.
Once he’s seated, Earl says grace, and we all dig in. The room erupts into a roar of conversation.
It’s perfect.
I sink back into my chair as plates are passed between the tables and elbows collide over biscuits.
Uncle Albert raises his sweet tea. “To Bryce. World champion once again.”
We all lift our glasses.
Bryce dips his head modestly, though the smug bastard’s grin ruins the effect.
“To Bryce,” we echo.
“For God’s sake, retire already,” I add.
Laughter erupts around the table.
Bryce points his fork at me. “You just wait your turn.”
“I’m trying.”
His expression shifts then. Less teasing. More serious. “It’s coming.”
Something settles heavily in my chest at that.
Because Bryce knows—he knows what it costs. The broken bones. The lonely nights. The endless pressure. The addiction to chasing those eight-second highs.
He knows what it means to want it so badly that you’d sacrifice damn near everything for a buckle.
Dinner rolls on around us.
Harleigh discusses her expansion plans for the guest ranch side of the property while Shelby and Charli argue over their training pen schedules.
Matty’s discussing next month’s pasture rotation with Dad as Caison feeds AJ a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
It’s chaos. Wonderful, relaxing chaos.
I lean back slightly and soak it in.
For a long time after Aunt Miriam died, this family operated in survival mode.
Everybody grieving.
Everybody trying to hold the pieces together.
So, we became one family instead of two.
I glance toward Uncle Albert.
His hair’s grayer these days, and his face has more lines, but there’s peace in him now as he looks over his family.
Maybe because the ranch survived. Maybe because all the girls did too. Maybe because despite everything life threw at this family, we’re still sitting around this table together even though everything is changing.
Matty’s married with a baby of her own. Charli and Shelby are engaged. Harleigh has graduated from college, planning the new guest ranch venture, and is dating a big-time hotel owner. The ranch is thriving. Bryce is retiring, and the academy is now open for business.
Royce nudges my boot beneath the table. “You listening?”
“Huh?”
“Cabe asked if we were looking forward to the summer.”
“Sorry. Yeah, it should be fun.”
Dinner stretches late into the evening.
Eventually, we start migrating outside onto the massive wraparound porch while the sky turns black overhead. Crickets and tree frogs sing for us as we enjoy the warm spring night.
Bryce and Albert start debating about breeding lines for bucking bulls.
Shelby and Harleigh are laughing over something on one of their phones.
Caison and Matty say their goodbyes and head out with their sleepy son.
And I sit on the porch railing beside Royce, nursing a beer while I stare out across the dark ranch. My mind is already on next season.
Royce shoulder-bumps me. “You’ll get ’em next year.”
Nobody knows a rider like another rider, especially when that rider is your brother.
I huff a laugh. “You’re just saying that because Bryce is old now.”
“Bryce is ancient,” he agrees.
“Practically a dinosaur,” I continue.
“Basically fossilized.”
From across the porch, Bryce yells, “I can still hear you assholes.”
We both grin.
I glance out toward the academy lights, faintly flickering in the distance. That’s what I want. To build a legacy of my own someday.
The porch door creaks open behind us.
Momma steps out, carrying two pies, followed by Grandma Evelyn with plates and utensils.
“Thought you all might still be hungry,” Grandma announces.
They slice them up and start passing them out.
Momma hands one to me and brushes her fingers through my hair the same way she did when we were kids.
No matter how old we get …
No matter how many arenas we ride in …
No matter how much blood we spill …
To her, we’ll always be her boys.
“I’m so happy to have you home,” she says softly.
I glance toward the academy cabins again.
“Me too. It’ll be nice to sleep in a real bed again. For a little while at least.”
She smiles sadly because she knows the truth. Rodeo men are restless by nature. Always chasing the next ride. The next buckle. The next eight seconds.
But tonight?
Tonight, there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than right here on this porch.