Chapter Twenty-Five
Royce
Friday means student rotation day at the academy, which means I have a short day. Usually, I would be down by the river either fishing or swimming, but before I can get out there, Dad ropes me into helping him and Uncle Albert replace some shingles on the main barn.
A storm rolled down from the Tetons a few nights ago, bringing enough wind to peel loose a handful of shingles along the western slope. Nothing catastrophic, but enough that Dad won’t sleep right until it’s fixed.
So, here I am, halfway up the roof with a hammer in one hand and a bundle of shingles beside me.
The afternoon sun beats down hard.
The heat radiates off the roof beneath my boots, and sweat runs down my back until I finally give up and yank my shirt over my head.
“Hell,” Dad mutters from a few feet away. “You trying to make the rest of us look bad?”
I toss my shirt beside the shingles. “You passed down good genes, old man. What can I say?”
Uncle Albert laughs. “Cocky bastard.”
We’re still working when I hear a truck coming up the drive.
I glance over the edge of the roof.
Shelby’s pulling up beside the house, and before the truck has even fully stopped, Ryder and Ruby are scrambling out of the back door.
“Slow down!” Shelby calls after them.
They don’t listen.
They run across the yard toward the house. I remember doing the same when I was a kid. Grandma Evelyn no doubt has after-school milk and cookies waiting for them.
The memory makes me smile.
Thirty minutes later, we’re still working when I hear voices drifting up from below.
I glance toward the ground.
Marina is walking up the path, and she’s with a woman I don’t recognize.
Older, attractive, with wild hair, dressed like she stepped out of the ’70s, stumbled out of a music festival, and wandered onto a ranch by accident.
Dad notices them too. “Who’s that?” he asks.
“No idea.”
Marina looks up and meets my gaze. The corners of her mouth curl into a smile. And damn if that doesn’t make the heat feel even hotter.
The older woman’s eyes follow her line of sight, and she raises her hand to shield her eyes. They land on me, then move over to Dad and Uncle Albert.
She says something to the woman, then grabs her arm and pulls her toward the house while she keeps staring at us. Her hand comes up and waves at us before they disappear inside.
I watch until the door closes behind them.
Uncle Albert chuckles. “Whoever she is, she looks like a handful.”
I look at him. “No kidding.”
Dad clears his throat. “The longer we stand here, the longer this is going to take. And I’m about done baking in the sun.”
I turn back to the shingles. “Right.”
Another half hour passes before the door opens again.
This time, Marina comes out with the mystery woman, Charli, Shelby, followed by Grandma Evelyn.
They settle around the table on the shaded side of the wraparound porch, talking and laughing.
The afternoon light has started to soften, turning everything golden. A bottle of wine sits in the middle of the table, catching the last bright sliver of sunlight off the glass.
I find myself looking down there more than I should.
Grandpa Earl moseys out of the house and heads toward the barn.
A second later, I hear the sprinklers kick on.
Water arcs across the lawn in glittering sheets. Then the front door bursts open, and Ryder comes flying down the steps, wearing nothing but his jeans, his little chest bare and his hair tied back. Ruby is right behind him in a yellow T-shirt two sizes too big for her.
They don’t hesitate. They run right into the spray, and their peals of laughter echo all the way up to us on the roof.
Ruby squeals when the water hits her, and Ryder throws his arms out and charges through it again, slipping on the soaked blades of grass and nearly falling over.
I stop hammering, and so do Dad and Uncle Albert. We watch the two of them.
For a minute, the ranch feels different. Lighter.
Dad leans back on his hands. “It’s nice, hearing kids running around here again.” He looks over at Uncle Albert. “Been a long damn time since ours were that little.”
Albert smiles, watching the kids. “Yeah, it has.” He shakes his head. “I loved having my girls. Wouldn’t trade a minute of it. But there’s nothing quite like grandkids.”
Dad looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
I immediately shake my head. “Don’t look at me,” I say. “Axle’s the only one who might be giving you grandkids anytime soon.”
Uncle Albert laughs. “I wouldn’t say that out loud without knocking on wood, son.”
I immediately drop and rap my knuckles against one of the wood beams framing the roof. “I live on the road ten months out of the year. I don’t have time to be making any babies.”
Dad looks at Albert. “I’ve failed as a father,” he says, then brings his eyes back to me. “I should have had the birds and the bees talk with you a long time ago, son. See, it only takes about five to seven minutes to make a baby. Give or take.”
I raise my hammer and point it at both of them. “You assholes know what I meant.”
They both start chuckling.
Old bastards.