38
F allon lives in between Resurrection and Runaway Ranch, far enough out of town that her cute cottage still feels like it’s out in the country.
The weather tonight is perfect, warm enough, yet in true Montana style, breezy.
Everyone’s assembled for Family, which Davis has told me is a get-together to bullshit and rally around Stede.
It makes me love him and his brothers even more.
They took care of my father when I was gone.
And Family’s especially important tonight. Fallon and I were both with Stede earlier this week when our father rang the bell at chemo. After nine months, he’s finally done with treatment. Another light at the end of the tunnel.
Everyone sips beers and sits around on the mishmash of patio furniture. A picnic table, two Adirondack chairs and a dusty old sofa. The air hangs heavy with the scent of cornbread and chili.
Keena, her nose resting on my leg, watches enviously as Davis takes a bite of chili. She whines and I sneak her a hunk of cornbread. I’m a sucker for her and she knows it.
I shift and rub my belly. The old Adirondack chair’s violent slope backwards isn’t doing a thing for my center of gravity.
Davis leans in, an amused smile on his face as he watches me wiggle. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just rallying.” So far, Davis and I have been chickens and let the night pass without talking to my father. I stick a hand out to Ford who’s passing by. “Help.”
Ford chuckles and pulls me to standing.
Davis makes a move to follow, but he gets caught up in a conversation with my father about the calving season.
Holding my belly, I pace the small backyard and wonder if Squish can feel my anxiety.
I look up at the moon, full and bright in the dusky evening sky. The flames from the fire cast an ominous gray glow across the fence. Something pricks at the back of my neck as I stare out into nothingness.
Something’s out there.
I jump at the hand on my arm.
“We have to tell, Dad,” Fallon hisses. “Now.”
I chuckle and give her a shove. “Okay. You first.”
“Christ, I need a beer,” Fallon says.
Charlie, stomping past, makes a growl of consternation as she yanks his from his hands. She slugs it down.
“C’mon, you little chicken.” I loop my arm through hers. Slowly, we approach our father.
“You here to ambush me, girls?” Our father gestures at the couch and we sit down beside him. He’s grown his mustache out, nearly to the end of his chin, in true cowboy style.
“Something like that.” I glance at Davis. Everyone’s eyes are on me like a spotlight. “It’s time for secrets.” At the mention of our old game, my sister smiles. “We have something to tell you.”
At the dart board, Ruby and Charlie still.
“I may be an old man, daydreamer, but I don’t miss much.” My father grins at the ring on my finger. “It’s about fucking time you two stopped dancing around it.”
Davis clears his throat and nods.
“A real good life is hard to find. A good love is even harder.” Stede’s eyes bounce from me to Davis. “But you two got it. And you hang tight to that.”
“Here, here,” Ford calls and lifts his beer.
“And…we’re moving to Eden,” Davis says, pride resonating in his voice.
Hoots come from all around.
“But that’s not all.” Fallon’s voice comes out strained. “I have to tell you something, too.”
Across the yard, Wyatt stares into his beer.
“I…” For once in her life, words fail her. Fallon’s panicked eyes dart to me.
I take pity on my sister and go first.
I slip my father’s hand into mine. “I want to buy The Corner Store, Daddy. I want it to stay in the family, but I want…I want to turn it into a bakery.”
“A bakery, huh?” My father wears his surprise well, stroking a finger down one side of his mustache. His gaze drifts to Fallon. “I don’t know how Fallon feels about that.”
Fallon inhales. “Let Dakota have the store. I don’t want it.” She bites her lip and takes my father’s other hand. “I’ve been training with Pappy Starr.”
Our father’s breath hitches.
“I’m riding bulls,” Fallon says. Every muscle in her body is rigid. “I’m going to enter the Pbr.”
Silence. For two straight minutes.
“Give me your blessing, Daddy. Please.” Fallon’s lower lip trembles. If there’s one thing that will get her to cry, it’s our father.
After a pause, he nods at Fallon. “I give you mine, baby girl,” he says, but I don’t miss the concern in his eyes.
“Thank you.” Two bright spots of color appear on Fallon’s cheeks. She looks at Wyatt and juts her chin out in that defiant way of hers. “Give me yours.”
The brothers swing their heads to him.
“No.” Wyatt stands and chucks his beer into the yard. Seconds later, he exits the side gate. The roar of his truck has Fallon looking down at her hands.
“Tomorrow ain’t promised, girls,” our father says, and Fallon’s head snaps up. It’s like we’re the only three people in the world when he looks at us. “You two shine as bright as you possibly can. I’ve never been more goddamn proud of you both.”
I sniffle. Fallon’s eyes glow.
It’s the strongest, strangest, most magical thing my sister and I have ever done. Telling our father the truth. Showing him our feelings. It feels like I’ve defeated a large beast that’s been holding me down for so long.
“Now…” Dad looks around the yard and grins. “We got shit to celebrate, don’t we? Babies, bakeries, bulls. Let’s put the wild in this west.”
While the crickets chirp in the night, I lift a hand to Ruby, Charlie, and Ford, who head across the gravel drive to their trucks. My father and Davis stand in Fallon’s front yard, deep in conversation. After many drinks and rounds of cornhole, the party’s breaking up.
“Stay the night,” Fallon says, exiting her front door. She smiles. “Let’s plan your baby shower.”
“Seriously?” Fallon’s the last person I expected to channel a maternal vibe.
She gives me a don’t-be-dumb look. “Yeah, seriously. You’re gonna pop in a month and we don’t have shit planned.”
“I don’t know.” I cast a glance at Davis.
A shrill ring cuts the peace of the night.
“Shit,” Davis says, abruptly breaking away from my father.
I watch him pace the yard, phone pressed to his ear.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when he bounds up the porch steps. He looks grim, and panic expands inside my chest.
His shoulders deflate. “It was Richter. A little boy’s missing over in the Briar Gorge.”
I clutch my belly. My heart hammers. “Oh no.”
“I have to go,” he says, sweeping a hand over his close-cropped hair.
I nod. “Of course. I understand.”
Frowning, he puts a big hand on my waist and scours the yard. Everyone else is already gone. “I’ll take you back to the ranch, drop you there, then head up.”
“She can stay here.” My sister slips in beside me. Davis opens his mouth, but Fallon’s faster. “Baby shower talk,” she adds obstinately. “Dakota’s gotta have one.”
Davis’s brow furrows. “I don’t like you unprotected.”
“I have knives,” Fallon sing-songs, slipping away to help our father up the porch stairs and into the house.
“Call in your tail.” I smile. “I know you still have one.”
A muscle in his jaw works. I can see him refusing to leave.
“Davis.” I palm his cheek. “It’s been months now. I want to enjoy life. Normality.”
He blows out a deep breath and pulls me closer.
I grip his shirt, looking into his worried eyes. “What if it were Squish? Go, Davis. You have to find him.”
“You don’t leave this house,” he growls.
“I won’t,” I promise.
“I love you,” he says fiercely, cupping my face in his hands. “So goddamn much.”
I kiss him, love spreading through my bones like wildfire. He gives me one last look, then, phone already to his ear, I watch his broad-shouldered form jog toward his truck. Keena follows at his heels.
“Oh my God.” Fallon peers at me through the screen door. “Is he always so rigid?”
I smile. “Uncompromising.”
“Look at that stance,” Fallon says, propping open the door for me. “He’s going full Liam Neeson.”
I choke out a laugh. “Stop checking out my fiancé’s ass.”
“Gross,” she says.
Her nose wrinkles as a white police cruiser pulls up alongside her street. Police lights flash blue and red. I roll my eyes. Davis works fast.
“Double gross. Topper’s here,” Fallon says, and I know she’s thinking of that time he got Gak in her hair in third grade. “It’s the fucking Keystone Kop cavalry.”
I follow her inside and back into the kitchen.
We say goodnight to our father and finish cleaning up.
Hunger pains get the better of me, and I make a cheese plate and popcorn.
Fallon brews a pot of tea, opens a bottle of wine, and after changing into terry-cloth shorts and hoodies, we plop onto her big couch, cozy in blankets and a pillow fort.
At a rising swell of nervousness, I remind myself it’s fine. Everything’s fine. We’re safe. Davis is out there slaying dragons and savings babies and I’m warm and safe with my sister.
“We haven’t done this in years.” At Fallon’s eyebrow raise, I elaborate. “Girl talk.”
She yawns, takes a sip of wine. “More like baby talk, but I’m okay with it.”
I stare at the hoodie stretched tight over my stomach. My son is coming soon. A thought that once filled me with terror is now the brightest light in my world.
With the cheese knife, Fallon scoops brie onto a crisp cracker. Her unbound caramel hair waves around her shoulders. “For your shower, I was thinking the arcade, pizza, and dessert. We can get a cake from Costco.”
I scoff. “That’s like eating radioactive plastic.”
She nudges me with her foot. “Snob.”
“I can—”
“No,” she interjects. She clicks her tongue at me like I’m one of her nags. “You’re not making your own cupcakes, Dakota.”
I laugh and chop a wedge of cheddar. “What about games?”
“Games?”
“You know, baby games?”
She wrinkles her nose, then groans. “I’m not good at this shit.”
“Bulls, not babies.”
“Right,” she says, a glint in her hazel eyes.
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, we’re back to how it used to be. How it should be—sisters.
I sip my tea and sit up against the cushions. “What about boys?”