Chapter 35
Amazing Grace / This is How We Roll - Florida Georgia Line (ft. Luke Bryan)
Wyatt
I sat on the tailgate of my truck, hunched over and staring down into my hands. Finn ambled over and sat beside me without a word.
“I don’t want to do this,” I said.
“I know.”
“I hated him.”
“I know.”
“So, why? Why are we doing this?” I watched the crowd strolling towards the large tent set up at the Cedar Valley rodeo grounds. People were showing up. For him.
It had been a long time since I’d stepped foot in Cowboy Church—the Sunday service that took place at rodeos, usually in a tent or barn but sometimes in the arena. My dad had never missed a service when he was competing. A lot of good it’d done him.
The thought of stepping inside that tent made my stomach roil.
“You’ll regret it if you don’t do something. You need some sort of closure,” Finn said.
“He doesn’t deserve it.”
“Maybe not. But you do. You deserve to say goodbye,” Finn went on. “And yeah, he made a lot of bad decisions, but he wasn’t all bad. He’s the one who taught you to ride a horse and rope. You can love him for that, even when you hate him.”
I nodded, chewing on what he’d said. “Thanks for organizing all this.”
It wasn’t an official funeral or anything, but Finn had spoken with one of the circuit pastors about giving my dad some time during the Sunday service, and they’d called a lot of the guys who’d known him and ridden with him, asking if they would come out. I still couldn’t believe how many had agreed to show up.
“You’re welcome. I had some help. You should’ve seen that girl of yours charming the Stetsons off those old cowboys.”
A small smile tugged at my lips. Leave it to Kinsley to wrangle a group of grizzled old cowboys.
Speaking of Kinsley, I spotted her now, weaving through the crowd towards us, her sundress a splash of colour against the faded denim. Even from a distance, I could see the warmth in her eyes and the way her smile could chase away the shadows that clung to me.
She reached us, stepping between my legs, and pressed her lips to my cheek. “Ready?” she asked softly, her gaze searching mine.
I took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.” I pushed myself off the tailgate.
Finn clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “That’s my boy.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
With Kinsley by my side and Finn at my back, I walked towards the tent, each step a little lighter than the last. The anger was still there, a dull ache in my chest, but it no longer felt all-consuming. Maybe Finn was right, and I needed this. Maybe saying goodbye, even to a man as flawed as my father, was the only way to let go.
As we stepped into the tent, countless gazes settled on me. The low murmur of conversations faded, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed against my skin. I kept my eyes forward, focusing on the makeshift altar at the front, adorned with a simple wooden cross and a framed picture of my father.
Hands reached out as I passed, some offering a gentle pat on my shoulder, others clasping my arm in a gesture of support. The touch of the community, the unspoken understanding in their eyes, was both comforting and overwhelming. I didn’t think I’d expected anyone to care this much or at all. Each contact seemed to chip away at the armour I’d built around my heart, exposing the raw grief beneath.
Kinsley’s hand never left mine, her presence a steadying force as we navigated the sea of cowboy hats and solemn faces. Finn walked just a step behind like a silent guardian watching over us.
As we neared the front, I spotted Grady, Rhett, and Maisey, their faces sombre, but they offered small smiles as we approached. They had saved seats for us, so we slid into the row beside them. Grady’s hand reached over and gave the back of my neck a quick squeeze.
Their presence, the knowledge that they were here for me even amid my conflicted emotions, was comforting. For the first time since my father’s passing, I felt a flicker of something other than anger and pain. It wasn’t quite peace, but it was a start.
As the pastor stepped up to the podium, I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the words to come, while Kinsley’s hand tightened around mine.
The pastor’s voice, deep with the cadence of a seasoned preacher, filled the tent. “We are here today to remember and celebrate the life of Jake Collins...”
As I listened, images of my father flickered through my mind. The good times, the bad times, the moments of laughter, and those of heartache. It was a kaleidoscope of memories, each one a piece of the complex puzzle that had been our relationship.
Beside me, Kinsley leaned in, her shoulder pressing against mine, and on my other side, Finn sat like a stone pillar holding me up. They anchored me to the present moment.
The pastor continued, sharing stories and anecdotes from those who had known my father best. Tales of his skill in the rodeo arena, his quick wit and infectious laughter, his loyalty to his friends… With each story, I saw a different facet of the man I had called my father.
Then, one by one, some of the old cowboys stood up, their weathered faces creased with mirth and nostalgia. They shared stories of my father’s wild antics, the pranks he’d pulled, and the jokes he’d told. The tent filled with laughter.
I chuckled along with the crowd, a smile tugging at my lips as I remembered the man my father had been in his lighter moments—the man who could light up a room with his presence, who could make even the toughest cowboy double over with laughter. I had forgotten about that man.
The pastor’s tone shifted. He spoke of my father’s struggles, his battle with the bottle, and the demons that had haunted him. That was the side of him I knew all too well, a side that had caused so much pain and disappointment. But, as the pastor said, he was free of all that now.
As the words hit me, a lump formed in my throat. The tears I had been holding back since my father’s passing threatened to spill over. I blinked rapidly, trying to maintain my composure.
Kinsley’s fingers intertwined with my mine. She was my lifeline, a reminder that I wasn’t alone.
Then, the pastor announced, “We’ve got a special song today, folks. Maisey’s going to sing Amazing Grace in Jake’s honor.”
Maisey stood, her face pale but resolute as she made her way to the front. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before her sweet voice, clear and strong, filled the tent while a hush settled over the crowd. Hats came off and heads bowed, taking in every note.
As the last notes faded, I realized that my dad, for all his faults, had lived a life full of passion and adventure. He might have stumbled, might have fallen, but he’d never stopped chasing the thrill of the ride. In that moment, I knew that a part of him would always be with me—a reminder to live life to the fullest, to embrace the good times, and to never back down from a challenge. Even the ones that came from within.
The pastor concluded the service with a prayer. As the final “amen” echoed through the tent, a sense of peace began to settle inside me. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet. Just a first step on the long road to healing.
As the congregation dispersed, offering condolences, I turned to Kinsley and my friends.
“Thanks, guys.” My voice was thick. “For being here, for everything.”
Kinsley smiled softly, reaching up to brush a stray tear from my cheek. “Always,” she murmured. “We’ll always be here for you, Wyatt.”
“C’mon, man,” Finn said. “Let’s go get a beer. It’s on Grady.”
“Dude!” Grady said. “We’re just leaving church. We can’t go get a beer right now.”
“Sure we can. It’s what Jake would’ve wanted,” Finn deadpanned and stared off against Grady.
The corners of my mouth twitched.
“That feels a little wrong.” Grady lowered his voice to a hushed tone. “He was an alcoholic .”
I couldn’t contain myself anymore. A full-blown grin erupted on my face. Finn caught my eye and smirked. I lost it. The laughter burst out of me, and I couldn’t stop it.
While the others looked on in bewilderment, Finn and I laughed. Kinsley’s jaw dropped, Maisey’s brow furrowed, and Rhett’s head swiveled between me and Finn like he was watching a tennis match, but we were too far gone, tears streaming down our faces as laughter shook our chests.
“Everything my dad did was wrong. A beer suits just fine.” I clapped Grady on the back. “Let’s go.”
The laughter faded, but the warmth it had sparked in my chest remained. I took a deep breath, the air somehow fresher.
Kinsley’s eyes met mine, questioning. I pulled her close, my hands sliding around her waist as I captured her lips with my own. In that soft kiss, I let the past, the grief, and the pain melt away, replaced by hope and possibility. Kinsley’s love was a promise of a brighter future, a path forward I knew I wouldn’t have to walk alone.
As we parted, both slightly breathless, I smiled against her temple and pressed another quick kiss to her head. I gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, my fingertips lingering on her cheek.
“What was that for?” she asked softly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“For being you.” My voice was low and earnest. “For being here. For loving me and giving me hope.”
Her smile widened, her eyes shining with a love that took my breath away. “Always,” she promised.
As we turned to join our friends, my arm wrapped securely around her waist, I felt the peace take root. The memories of my father, both good and bad, would always be a part of me, but they no longer held me captive.
Everybody piled into the bed of my truck, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Kinsley and I climbed into the front, grinning at each other as I turned the key. The engine roared to life, and I immediately cranked up the music, the bass thumping through the speakers. A chorus of whoops and hollers erupted from the back as the song blasted out, and we all started singing This Is How We Roll at the top of our lungs with Florida Georgia Line and Luke Bryan.
As I pulled out onto the main road, the wind whipped through the open windows. My friends’ voices were in a raucous chorus, and a grin spread across my face. This was living, pure and simple. No more dwelling on the past. I was ready to move forward.