Chapter 28
JULES
S he was whiskey in a teacup. A tornado in a pretty package—blowing into Sterling Ridge and turning the most patient man jealous and frustrated. And it was time she stopped spinning.
Lifting the coffee mug to her lips, Jules watched the sun rise over the mountains, painting the ridge line in shades of gold and purple. She should call the magazine back, but that would require knowing what she was going to say. Could she leave and come back as Maddie suggested? Did she want to?
There was one person she knew she could have a real conversation with about this. One person who would have the right perspective—if she could get some time with the old him.
“You have today off at the clinic, right?” she asked, turning to Maddie in the rocking chair beside her.
“Sure do.”
“Do you think you could take my place as Riley’s second today? I think it’s time I go have a chat with my dad.”
Familiar white fenced pastures sailed by as her Mustang charged up the dirt drive of Graham Equestrian. The rows of white PVC glowed bright in the sun, offset by the lush green fields stretched out behind them. It was beautiful, pristine. But not the wild west of Hayes Ranch.
Parking in the turnabout of the main house, she climbed out and took a deep breath.
Growing up, her dad seemed to have found the perfect balance between his passion for the equine center and his love for his family.
If she could just get past the walls he built from grief, maybe that dad would still be there.
And he would certainly know what she needed to do.
As she climbed the porch steps, the front door opened, and Miles Graham stepped outside with a furrowed brow. “Juliette? Cut your trip short?”
“Not exactly. Have some time for a coffee with me?” she replied, cresting the top step and allowing him to pull her into a one-armed hug.
“Sure, yeah. Just let me call down to the arena and tell them I’ll be delayed.” His voice was marred with confusion. Apparently, the element of surprise was enough to catch his attention.
She followed him inside, moving about her childhood kitchen to put a pot of coffee on while he made his call.
As she scooped out the coffee grounds, she could feel his eyes on her.
A father’s assessing gaze was a potent thing, and she felt like she was in high school again getting caught sneaking home from a party.
When she turned back around, she met his gaze where he sat on a barstool, his hands folded on the island’s granite countertop. “What’s going on, kid?”
She slid a cup over to him along with the creamer and remained silent as he poured it into his coffee, stirring methodically. The spoon went round and round, creating a tiny whirlwind in the cup, same as the feeling in her chest.
Finally, he looked up at her through his thick brows. “Well?”
“I haven’t gone to Argentina.”
His mouth pressed into a hard line, but he remained silent.
“I’m not sure if you recall, but I came in to tell you I had to head out of town, and you assumed it was for Argentina. And that’s kind of what I’m here to talk to you about.”
Dropping forward to rest her elbows on the counter, Jules let out a sigh. “Since Grandpa died, you haven’t seemed to care where I was heading or what I was doing. And it hurt?—”
“Honey—”
“But.” She held up her hand to stop his interjection.
He flinched ever so slightly but fell quiet once again.
“But here’s the thing. When Mom showed up and asked me to dinner, she said the same thing about you.
Said it’s why she left. And I was so annoyed —like why wouldn’t she just talk to you about it before giving up.
And then I realized I did the same thing to you.
I left instead of trying to talk to you about it. ”
He still didn’t say anything, instead his expression had turned to one of crippling sadness. His shoulders slumped.
“That’s what I’m doing here. I’m fighting for us. Because honestly, I really need my dad right now.” Her voice broke over the last words, causing him to launch from his seat and come around the island to hug her.
“I’m sorry, I care, honey. I care.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Fill me in.”
So, she did. Allowing him to lead her to a seat, she told him about the reason she went to Sterling Ridge, the magazine, and the jumble of emotions in her chest—just not the specifics about Riley. Those feelings were still too hard.
“I just don’t know what I want anymore. How did you do it all those years? Balancing a career and a life. Because I can’t seem to have both.”
A deep laugh escaped him. “I didn’t.”
“You did . You were back in this kitchen for dinner with us every night. We took vacations. You came to all my soccer games even when I hardly played. You were there.”
“Because your grandfather was the one carrying this place. I didn’t have to worry about the career.”
Her heart sank. “Oh.”
“You know, he never wanted me to take over the business.”
She blinked back at him. That was not what she expected to hear.
“He said he didn’t want it pulling me down. That he never intended it to be a family legacy. He told me to enjoy the horses with you, and your mom, and sell off what I needed in order to keep the things we wanted. It sounded simple enough, but then he died.”
Miles paused to take a drink of coffee and compose the rising tightness in his voice. “When he died, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. It was like letting go of the last piece I had of him.”
“That’s how I feel about the Mustang,” she murmured, swiping at the tears welling up in her eyes. She never knew any of this. She suspected it, but hearing him admitting it was harder than she thought it would be.
He nodded back at her, a small smile on his face. “He loved building that car for you. You were his pride and joy, not the business. You.”
“Then why do you think you leaned into the business instead?”
“Emotions are difficult for the Graham family,” he replied ruefully. “Your mom runs away from them; I distract myself with firm logic and numbers. I guess we didn’t set a good example for you.”
“But you did, for so many years. We were perfect.”
Miles pushed the barstool back and crossed his arms as a bone deep sigh escaped him.
“I am so glad you remember it that way. That was always the goal, kid. But we were far from perfect. When you weren’t around, your mom and I hardly spoke to one another.
She didn’t want to admit that this wasn’t the life she wanted.
I figured if I didn’t push her to say so, then she would keep sticking around. ”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her chest tightening.
“We lived on borrowed time, and I am grateful for every second I got to make those memories as a family. But just because I accepted that she left, does not mean for one minute I would ever accept losing out with you.”
“Are you happy now? With the business?”
A tight smile tugged at her father’s mouth. “I’m happy to hold onto your grandfather’s memory.”
Apparently, all these years, Miles Graham was just holding onto the idea of home that he had. It certainly sounded familiar, this desperate need for home .
“Dad, that’s not where his memory is.” She leaned back from the counter to press her hand over her heart.
“It’s right here. Every time we talk about him, live the way he lived.
His memory is in us. Like, I’ll always see Grandpa when I eat a hot dog.
You remember the Thanksgiving he sent the turkey up in smoke and hotdogs were the only other thing we had to cook in a pinch? That was the best Thanksgiving ever.”
A strangled laugh escaped her dad. “He insisted his new way of cooking that bird was going to wow us. Such a stubborn man.”
“I think that stubbornness is one of the ways Grandpa lives on in you,” she pointed out, raising her eyebrows at him. “And maybe me too.”
He scowled back at her, fighting a smile. “We are quite the pair, aren’t we?”
She felt some of the tension furled in her chest loosening. Maybe she and her dad could find their way back to a real relationship. This seemed like a good start.
“We are. But, if your choices were about holding on to him, not the business, what it sounds like is that people are more important than a career.”
“Ah, this isn’t me making your decision for you,” he said.
“Can I ask you something then?”
“Of course,” he nodded seriously, placing an arm around her shoulders.
“Is it worth it? The good parts? Because people just ended up hurting you and leaving you alone. Is that hurt worth it?”
The corner of her father’s eyes crinkled as a wide smile stretched across his face. “Doesn’t sound like you are just dealing with career paths. Tell me, what’s his name?”