Twenty-Seven
Dallas
My boots are dusty and covered in mud as I kick them off at the door.
It’s almost dark out by the time I finally make my way home from the evening rounds.
My back hurts, I’m exhausted, and I’m itching for a coffee and a cigarette.
To be honest, after the last few days, I think I might opt for a whisky over a coffee.
Billie has gone to the Carter’s for a sleepover – a suggestion from River that was immediately welcomed by the kids.
The door creaks again, giving way to Colson, and Annabeth. I turn in my chair, extending my arms to Annabeth. She slides into my embrace, her body moulding into mine. I slip my hands around her hips, pulling her in closer until her hat rests under my chin.
“You smell, awful. Where have you been?” I ask her, crinkling nose.
The door creaks open for the third time, and Ella comes waltzing in.
I really need to ask Colt what the hell is going on there.
I can only assume she’s here on his request, considering Annabeth has barely left the farm in weeks.
Colt’s laugh bellows through the enclosed space, the hearty sound ricocheting off the tiled walls.
“We had to blow off some steam, old boy!”
Ella and I frown in unison, and because both of us know the two people standing before us as well as we do, we have clearly come to the same conclusion. ‘Blowing off steam,’ could quite literally, be anything.
Annabeth peers up at me from beneath the brim of her hat, her green eyes fluttering innocently. I do not trust that look. “And what exactly does ‘blowing off steam’ entail, Firefly?”
“Come with us,” she replies, taking my hand. As we pass Ella, Annabeth grabs her best friend’s hand as well, leading us out into the night, Colt following behind.
The four of us walk across the yard and out into the paddock towards the old barn, which is mostly used for feed storage now. Our boots scuff against the dirt as we continue down the fence line and into the stockyard.
“Where are we going?” Ella asks, her voice disrupting the silence.
“Not much further,” Colt replies, not answering the question.
Annabeth stops, the weird conga-line that is the rest of us following suit. “Okay, close your eyes,” she tells us.
I can’t see Ella well in this light, but the rustling sounds of the barn door opening tells me that she’s also closed her eyes.
I stand here, in the darkness, wondering what the hell these two have been up to.
I start retracing how long it’s been since I saw either of them, but I’m interrupted by a gentle tap on my shoulder.
My eyes open on cue, and I’m left completely shocked by what I see.
I take a few steps inside the barn, blinking rapidly to make sure I’m not seeing things.
I let my gaze drift over the green felt table that now fills half of the barn, sitting on what looks like a cow hide rug.
Six vintage style chairs sit around the table, each sporting a unique textured cushion, and funky neon lights now hang from the walls.
“What is this place?” I ask. I don’t know if I’m concerned or impressed. The fact they pulled this together in a few hours really is incredible.
“This, brother, is The Lion’s Den,” Colt announces.
Annabeth rolls her eyes and sighs. “It is not, shush you. We just figured the barn was going to waste, and since there’s no official poker game now, we thought we’d bring the poker game to us!”
“So, you built a poker room in my barn?” I’m still trying to wrap my head around what my eyes are seeing.
“Our barn,” Colt chimes in.
I turn to look at Ella, whose wandering off in her own little world staring at the cards and chips stacked neatly against the table. She lifts her head, and our eyes lock for a moment before she says, “Well gang, whose up for a game of poker?”
We all agree, taking our seats at the table.
Colt fetches a bottle of whiskey that he stashed behind one of the neon signs and returns with four red solo cups – classy.
Annabeth is the self-appointed dealer, carefully going over the rules before proceeding to shuffle the deck.
Her fingers move with lightning speed and expert precision as she lays each card on the table.
By the time we’re three hands deep, Colt is doing surprisingly well.
He said that he had been practising with Annabeth ever since they setup The Lion’s Den, as he so affectionately named it.
He isn’t ‘up,’ but he’s folded and raised when needed, and seems to be holding his own.
I take a sip of my drink, laying my cards face down on the table and watch as my brother flicks a single chip between his fingers before adding it to the humble stack of chips in front of him.
He doesn’t meet my gaze, doesn’t take his eyes off the chips as he leans forward and slides the entire stack towards the dealer.
“All. In.”
Coffee beckons me from the kitchen. I think I’m starting to enjoy having Ella around, not that I’m going to admit that in a hurry. I meander into the kitchen, preparing to greet our new house guests, but to my surprise, it’s Colt.
“Morning, Dallas,” he replies chirpily. “Sleep well? Some might say I slept like a winner.” He turns from the coffee maker, his smile widening from ear to ear. “I fucking WON!”
“You won a six-pack of beer that you bought yourself, dickhead,” I tell him, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
“Don’t rain on his parade, grumpy bum,” comes a male voice from the backdoor. A voice I know without needing to turn.
“Is everyone just moving into my house now, or what?” I call into the void.
As expected, it’s Teddy. His hand meets my shoulder in an affectionate slap. “Sure are, man. You’re the oldest, ya know. It’s only fitting that your place is the general meetup spot.”
“I would argue that your house is bigger.” My protest falls on deaf ears, because the kids come barrelling into the kitchen, squeals of laughter overtaking the conversation.
“Daddy, Daddy!” Billie launches into my arms. River’s braided her curls in two thick braids down her back. She looks beautiful. I kiss her forehead, easing her feet back down to the floor so she can continue playing with Frank.
“Morning, Northlanes,” River announces by way of greeting, sending air kisses our way. “Where are the girls?” she asks.
Like clockwork, Annabeth and Ella appear in the kitchen.
I swear, if this group gets any bigger, I’m moving.
I only have five bar stools for a reason.
It doesn’t matter that the reason is that only five would fit across the breakfast bar nicely; for the sake of complaining, it’s to be antisocial.
I look around the room, seeing everyone here together.
The kids are playing hide-and-seek – Frank is still terrible at hiding and laughs the entire time – Colt’s been roped into counting, presumably so Billie and Frank can get into mischief and blame it on him.
River’s joined the girls as they start making what looks like omelettes.
My mouth waters at the thought of a fresh omelette and a scorching hot cup of coffee.
I scan for Teddy and Jonas, but they’re already making their way outside for a cigarette.
I take a moment to soak in the people around me, and what they mean to me.
A smile creeps across my face as I picture us doing this, exactly this, years from now.
I realise that I don’t really care how many bar stools fit neatly at my breakfast bar, because life isn’t supposed to be neat.
It’s real, it’s raw, it’s messy. Life is the joy you find within the moments of chaos.
It’s the people who show up for you time and time again.
It’s the people who make your house a home, and the ones who build fucking poker tables in your barn.
Love isn’t supposed to be perfect, heck, sometimes it doesn’t even make sense.
Sometimes, it jumps up and bites you in the ass on a random fucking Tuesday in the form of a ridiculously beautiful pink-haired woman.
Sometimes, it comes in the form of a blonde stranger who pulls you from your dad’s trailer in the dark.
Sometimes, it’s a tiny, blue-eyed baby girl that came a few weeks too early, yet somehow at the perfect moment.
It can even come in the form of a little brother who could pass as your twin, despite being significantly less grey and far more boisterous.
I don’t know how I ended up here, with a truck load of people having regular breakfasts in my kitchen, but I know that I don’t think I’ll ever want it to stop.
Annabeth brought me out of my reclusive ways, reminded me that despite everything Colt and I have been through, that it’s okay to let go of things you’ve held onto, even when those things are people who you never thought you’d lose.
I wipe a stray tear from my eye, not wanting anyone to see me show weakness – not that I feel weak, more vulnerable than anything.
It’s been almost six years since Sam left us, and not a day goes by that I don’t wonder how things would have been if she hadn’t.
But despite all of that, I know she would’ve adored Annabeth.
I know she would be proud of the family I’ve built, and that our daughter is so loved.
I find myself silently talking to my late wife in my head, asking her if maybe, just maybe, it’s okay for me to finally let her go.
Billie springs out of nowhere, wrapping her lanky arms around me as a mischievous giggle emits from her lips.
Frank follows mere seconds later, an equally cheeky look on his face.
Before I have a moment to intervene, Annabeth comes whirling around the corner with a bubble gun, laughing like a madwoman as she gives chase to the kids.
“I’m gonna get you two!” she squeals.
As I watch the woman I love chase after my daughter, and my inherited nephew, I realise that I may not be a young man anymore, but god damn am I a lucky one.