Twelve | Colson
The crisp, early morning air glides against my skin as I walk across the trailer bed, pushing hay bales off into the pasture.
Cattle march up the slight incline through the darkness, blanketed by a light layer of fog.
Their excited snorts blend with the chirping of birds.
The navy sky is quickly bleeding into the early remnants of day, giving way to a sliver of light peeking behind the Appalachian Mountains.
Tucked between valleys near Chattanooga, my family’s ranch still has that quaint, quiet atmosphere that settles deep into the marrow of your bones.
I’ve always been rooted here.
Can never see myself living anywhere else, despite my parents’ decision to get out and not be attached to a place that holds as much beauty as it does memories they’d rather forget.
But this place—it was always meant to be ours. I peer out over the pasture, the memory morphing the scene around me.
“Okay, ready or not, here I come,” I yell. My voice sounds so loud, I bet Mom and Dad can hear me from the house.
I try to listen for Paisley’s laugh. She always gives herself away, even when she tries not to.
My sister is terrible at hide-and-seek, but it’s our favorite game to play in the field when the grass is almost as tall as we are.
We may be twins, and only thirteen, but I’m starting to outgrow her. She doesn’t like it, but I do.
It gives me an advantage.
I push my way through the tall grass and sunflowers—some are taller than I am.
“Paisley,” I singsong.
She always laughs when I do that because she thinks my voice is terrible. She always yells at me to stop when I sing her “Happy Birthday” loudly, even though it’s my birthday, too. She sometimes covers her ears, but I don’t think I’m that bad.
I hear giggling somewhere nearby, and I stop, turning in a circle.
The sun is less hot today, but it’s nearing the end of summer which means we will have to go back to school soon.
It sucks, and I don’t want to go back, but a new school year means that Paisley and I get to start riding steers in the junior league.
Our parents took us to a rodeo in the spring, and Paisley and I were so excited to watch the bull riders.
Then we decided we wanted to be like them, but when we begged Mom and Dad, they showed us a video of a bull rider getting hurt.
We don’t care; we want to ride together.
I get hurt all the time anyway. My scraped knee is still healing from when I was running and fell in our driveway a few weeks ago.
“I can hear you laughing. I’m going to find you!”
“No, you won’t,” she singsongs back, her voice coming from somewhere to my right.
I turn, creeping toward the direction I heard her voice. Then I see her, but she doesn’t see me, so I sneak around. I like scaring her. Her voice gets all squeaky, and she tries to beat me up, but I’m bigger than her now.
Quietly moving around the sunflowers that overtake the field every summer, I start to get closer to her. Luckily, she’s looking in the opposite direction and doesn’t see me.
Cowboy boots make tiptoeing hard, but I try.
“Gotcha,” I say, jumping at my twin.
Paisley screams and starts to run, but she steps wrong and falls to the ground. “Oww,” she cries, grabbing her foot.
I run to her, landing on my knees in the grass. I didn’t mean to hurt her. “Are you okay?” My heart is beating fast.
She shakes her head, tears falling down her cheeks. “It hurts really bad.”
Her eyes are the same color as mine, but they are red since she’s crying. I don’t like seeing her cry. I swallow, trying to think of how to help her. An idea pops into my head.
I know how to make her feel better.
“Hold on, Pais.”
“Where are you going?” She sounds scared.
“I’ll be right back.”
Paisley sniffles, her eyes like little balls bouncing between mine. “Promise?”
I nod. “Promise.”
I trace my footsteps back the way I came, tracking my steps like how Dad taught me when we went hunting.
I saw something cool while I was looking for her, and I know it will make her smile.
When I find it, I take out my small pocketknife and cut the stem, finding my way back to her like I always do.
We’re twins. We’re never supposed to be apart for long.
Paisley and I were always going to take over the ranch when our parents decided it was time to move on.
But when that time came, buying it from them instead felt like the better option.
I was hoping that the money would give my parents the new start they craved.
Even at fifteen, Paisley and I knew that when we had our own families, we wouldn’t be able to live in the same house, so we planned to use our Pbr winnings to build a second house on the property.
My love for this land is woven through me as thickly as the roots in the forest on our property line, thriving below the surface.
I’m tied to this place in ways that I’ll never break.
I don’t want to.
Paisley never forgets to tell me that her accident wasn’t my fault. That I shouldn’t be internally punishing myself, even though our parents blame me for ruining her life. Maybe that’s why I stay and can’t leave, because she’s here with me, and as long as I have her, I’ll be okay.
Glancing at the watch on my wrist, my heart thunders. “Shit.” I needed to leave ten minutes ago to pick up Harlow at the airport.
Swinging my leg over the seat of the four-wheeler, the hum of the engine fills the air.
I take off toward the small barn, letting my eyes linger on the old practice riding area my dad built for Paisley and me.
I pull onto the dirt road, picking up speed.
Rounding the corner of the barn, I spot my sister rocking back and forth on one of the four white rocking chairs on the porch.
Her chair, because when we were kids, we decided to carve our names into the back.
The vibrant orange and pink sunrise spilling over the mountains illuminates her silhouette.
When I near the house, she grins and lifts her coffee cup to her lips, a ribbon of steam floating in front of her face. Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, her face having no trace of makeup. She always looks wide awake. At peace despite the circumstances.
I’m already running late as is. I’ll have to put away the four-wheeler after I pick up Harlow from the airport, so I park it in front of the porch, turn off the ignition, and pocket the keys.
My sister hums contentedly. “I’ll never get tired of these sunrises.”
I follow her line of sight, looking out over the driveway that cuts between the two pastures that lead to the gate with our Payne family brand hanging above the road. The sun is now fully floating over the distant tip of the Appalachian Mountains, warming my skin.
My eyes stay trained on the view. “Me too.” When I turn back around, Paisley regards me with a look I know all too well.
She grins, lowering her coffee cup. She tucks a strand of long wavy brown hair behind her ear. Her hair is the same shade as mine. Sometimes, it’s still weird to see the similarities between us. “A lot is going on today.”
My boots slap against the steps on my way up the porch. “As much as I love you being here, you know you can’t stick around, right?”
She scoffs. “As entertaining as that would be to witness how quickly you and Harlow fall back into your usual bickering, you know I made other arrangements. I’m going to stay with Mom and Dad for a while.”
I lean against one of the porch pillars, crossing my arms. “How are they?”
“You know you could easily visit them instead of always asking me that question? You should really think about coming to see them this year for Christmas. It hasn’t been all of us in a long time.”
I blow out a condescending laugh. “They still blame me for your accident, and it hasn’t been the same since. You know that. It would bring up too much of the past.”
She frowns, my chest pulling uncomfortably at the sadness that lingers there.
I have barely seen my parents since I bought the property when I was twenty-five.
They are still harboring resentment, and I don’t blame them, because I’m the reason Paisley is sitting here, unable to do the things she loves.
Besides a few awkward and depressing family Christmases and Thanksgivings over the years, I’ve kept my distance. Not that our parents mind. I’m a walking reminder of what happened, and that our family holidays will never be the same.
“It’s been three years since you’ve talked to them, Colson.”
The excuse flows out easily. “I’ll be busy with the ranch and coaching Harlow anyway. You know it’s hard to travel during the season.”
Paisley gives me a stern glance. “They live two hours away.”
And yet they’ve always felt thousands of miles away.
I hike my thumb over my shoulder, itching to avoid this conversation like I always do. “I’m late. I need to go pick up Harlow.”
For a moment, I think she’ll fight me on it. To my surprise, her eyes soften, and she nods. “Tell me you’ll at least think about Christmas.”
My eyes fall to my wrist to inspect the leather band with the sunflower necklace I gave her for our sixteenth birthday braided through, so I can always wear it while I compete.
I always go back to those memories of playing hide-and-seek in the pasture, using them for cover as kids.
Sunflowers have always been her favorite.
I glance up at the bare spot above her ear where the doctors made the incision to do her surgery. Her hair may be long, but it’s never grown back. It haunts me in the same way I know it haunts her.
She catches me staring and gives me a stern look, but there’s a hint of a smile there. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” I swallow.
Her deep, aqua eyes search mine. “No matter what Mom and Dad think, what you think, my accident wasn’t your fault.
Yes, you let me go out there and ride, but only because I told you I was fine.
I know no matter what I say, you will still blame yourself, but you need to find a way to forgive yourself someday. ”
“Paisley, you know I can’t.”
She points to her chest. “I wanted to ride again. I pushed myself too hard and convinced you that I was okay. I’m the reason I can’t be out there with you like we always dreamed.
You kept going because I asked you to, but things change.
Dreams change. And it’s okay not to want the same things you used to. ”
When I don’t say anything and stare down at the ground, she playfully kicks my boot with hers.
“There’s more to life than bull riding, Colson.
I know that now, and deep down, I know you do, too.
I’m okay with this life, and I need you to find a way to be okay, too.
” She stands, putting her finger below my chin, lifting my face to make me look at her before she holds out her pinkie finger.
“Promise me you’ll try to look forward instead of back. ”
I force a grin, but it doesn’t reach my eyes as I wrap my finger around hers. “I promise.”
“Also, you should take it easier on Harlow, little brother.”
I shake my head, blowing out a breathy laugh. “Always throwing that four-minute head start in my face.” My twin grins, and I tilt my head. “You know how hard it is for me to watch her. She’s not you.”
“Then maybe it’s time for you to move on so you don’t have to.”
My eyes drop to the words “don’t stop” inked across my fingers.
She catches me. “You know this is not what I meant when I said that in the hospital.”
I don’t say anything.
Her head gestures to the front door. “Don’t forget your thermos of coffee on the kitchen counter.”
Running inside quickly, I grab my coffee for the road, truck keys, and my Carhartt jacket hanging in the closet by the front door. When I return to the porch, she’s still staring at the sunrise with a far-off look.
I tug on my jacket. “I’ll see you soon?”
She turns to me and smiles. “Soon better mean you’re thinking about coming to Mom and Dad’s for Christmas.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Uh-huh,” she mutters disbelievingly with a hint of a grin ghosting her lips. I walk down the porch steps to my Chevy Silverado. And of course, she never fails to say the words I cling to. Words that we never fail to say to each other. “I love you, Colson.”
I climb into my truck, flashing her a smile. “I love you, too, Pais.”