And I’m pretty damn sure I love her kid. Especially after we spent hours on the lake, fishing and sharing in the experience of having crappy dads. He talked more in those few hours than he has in the entire time I’ve known him. About important shit, too. Really opened up to me.
“I already figured out I liked her when we had game night at their house, but after yesterday…” I recognize the line is eerily silent on her end. “You think I’m crazy?”
“I think…No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I’m sure Whit is beautiful and a lovely woman, and Jonas is a great kid. I can see the appeal….” Mom’s voice trails off.
“But?”
“But…I just don’t think you really know what you’re getting into, and I’d hate for you to be in over your head dating somebody with a kid when you aren’t ready for that much responsibility.”
“Jonas is my buddy—I’ve been teaching him stuff on the ranch, and we go fishing together.”
A lot more than my father ever did, if I’m being honest.
“It’s one thing to be his friend, and it’s another to be his stepdad. Being a parent is hard, Colt. It’s not a role anybody should step into on a whim.”
“I thought you’d be thrilled about this.”
After all, she’s spent the past five years nudging me to date, settle down, get married, and give her grandbabies. This is her dream scenario, and I fully expected her to be my ultimate hype-woman.
“I am, if it all works out. I want you to find someone, fall in love, have a family…. I’m just trying to temper expectations.”
I sigh, the excited energy in my soul deflating. All at once, the room feels dark and the air heavy. “This call has turned into a bit of a buzzkill, if I’m gonna be honest.”
She gives a tut of annoyance. “I know you’ll be a fantastic dad one day—maybe you’ll even be Jonas’s. But you said before that his dad isn’t consistent, so if you love the boy, you won’t rush into anything. Don’t put the three of you in a position where you’re adding to the instability in his life.”
You know what I hate? When my mom is right.
“Take it slow. Got it.”
“I’m not trying to discourage you from asking her out. I only want you to make the best choice for yourself…and for them.”
I’m aware I’m entirely out of my depth here, with no parenting experience or father worthy of learning from. Maybe I can’t waltz into their lives and become Jonas’s dad overnight. But if there’s one thing I learned from watching my mom parent us on her own, it’s that Whit can take care of Jonas. What she needs before anything else is somebody to take care of her. To put her first.
Thatis something I can do.
“Not discouraged, Ma. She’s already referred to me as a friend, so I know it’s going to take time to change her mind, but that’s fine. What date is it today?”
“Um…” The line goes quiet for a few seconds. “The thirteenth.”
“Perfect. Block off August thirteenth on your calendar for the next few years. You’ll have a wedding to attend for one of them, and then you can count on babysitting a grandbaby or two for quite a few anniversaries after.”
Colt
August heat curls around me, pulling sweat from my skin as I lie spread-eagle on top of my bed, having just woken up from a nap. Ideally, I’d like to chug a bunch of NyQuil or something to knock me back out, because my dream about Whit wasso fucking closeto getting real good. After a full week since seeing her, I can’t seem to sleep, or shower, or be alone in bed without thinking of her.
While I slept, a text came through that Austin’s wife, Cecily, made sangria and everybody was going swimming. And since I have no sleeping medication to lull me back into Whit-filled dreams, an afternoon by the river sounds a hell of a lot better than suffering in the sweltering bunkhouse.
Never mind missing Whit, I’ve also barely seen Jonas lately, though he’s keeping busy with the women in the kitchen after he finishes his regular tasks. The final push for haying, combined with excruciating heat, means Austin has us working god-awful hours. I’m struggling to sleep during the hottest part of the day and working through the night, chugging Red Bull and singing along to country music to keep myself awake. It’s been miserable.
Eyes wet from my uncontrollable yawning, I amble down the winding, heavily treed path to the riverbank, counting down the seconds to when I can leap into the glacier-fed river. Nearly the entire Wells Ranch gang is down by the watertoday, belongings scattered under the trees. Even in the shade, and by the rushing water, it’s hotter than hell.
I slip out of my sandals and ditch my shirt beside where Jackson’s wife, Kate, and Cecily are stacking rocks with Kate’s kids. Rather, theywerestacking rocks, but it promptly ends when Betty runs straight for Odessa and her tail destroys their hard work.
“Betty, you ass!” I yell through a laugh.
“Bad word,” Odessa shouts back without skipping a beat.
“Betty’s my accountant. Hit her up for swear jar money.”
