We look around, and the party is in full swing. No one will miss us if we take a few minutes to go inside and look.
Desi tilts his head toward the house. “Why don't you come meet my sister?”
We towel off and follow him into the chilly house and to the breakfast area. Over the big table, instead of the landscape that we’ve sat under for years, is a collage of the entire Rebel Sky family. The restored picture of Renée is in the middle, and to the side of it is the piece she wrote about the tornado that changed everything.
Colt points out that one of the pictures is of a younger version of me bent over and throwing up from cleaning out the barn.
“Why would y'all put that picture in with everything else?” I complain.
Sam comes up behind us. “Wyatt found all sorts of pictures. And I couldn't stand the thought of that piece of history molding in a box somewhere.”
Trip, Wyatt, Luke, and Sparrow join us, and we laugh and leak a few tears at the kaleidoscope of pictures. In the end, though, the photograph of Renée is all I can see.
I’d forgotten how long she kept her hair. And here she is, hair the color of a praline spilling over her shoulders as she smiles into the camera. Crinkling lines around her eyes and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. And that smile. God, I haven't seen that smile in a long, long time.
My nose goes red, and I know that tears are soon to follow, but with this group of people, I don't mind so much. I look up at Trip, seeing those same eyes and that same smile, and I know we never truly lost her. She's in the bones of this place, and I miss her every fucking day. Suddenly, I'm surrounded on both sides by Joaquin’s gentle presence and Colt’s warm, soft hold. They kiss my temples.
“I get it now,” Colt whispers. “I’d have fallen in love with her too.”
We look over, and Sparrow is just as teary-eyed as I am.
Joaquin looks down at me. “Mind if I leave you for a moment to hug my son?”
“Of course not.”
He steps over to Sparrow and brings him into a fatherly embrace so sweet the rest of us go quiet.
“I guess we’re all just gonna cry together,” Wyatt says with a watery laugh. “Sparrow, you captured her. You really captured her. Honestly, I can’t believe I forgot about that photograph. Thank you for bringing her back to me.”
I nod in agreement and pull Sparrow into my arms. “You’re my brother. You know that, right?”
He nods, and we hold each other tight, remembering the many days we would cry while mucking out a stall or fixing a broken bit of fencing. I don’t think either of us could’ve gotten through those months after her death on our own.
After a few moments, we’re joined by everyone else, and we all sort of end up in a sloppy, sniffly group hug.
“When did we all become such saps?” I ask, garnering a laugh from the group. “No, but seriously. She’d be so proud of all of us. She really would be.”
Desi nods. “You know what my sister would love for us to doright now?”
“No, what?” Wyatt asks, cupping Desi's face.
“She’d love for us to stop crying like a bunch of sad sacks, get out into the pool, and enjoy the hot man meat that’s on display everywhere.”
“I do believe those are the exact words my mother would use,” Trip says, laughing as he wipes the tears from his eyes.
We agree and make our way outside. Then, in silent agreement, all of us cannonball into the pool, splashing everyone. More of the delicious Bash sangria gets passed around, and we get loose and sloppy, and I really do think the elder Bashes just straight up fucked underneath the waterfall.
Ah, love. I always thought I understood what it meant, but I didn’t. Not before I got here. Not before I met my men.
Eventually, everybody drifts off to either the main house or to the Bashes house for more sangria, with a lot of people sleeping it off on the loungers.
By the end of the evening, my tipsy’s worn off, and I’m enjoying being present in the moment. Joaquin's arm snakes around me and he pulls me in for a kiss as I get out of the pool. In addition to being a world-class kisser, everything about him feels stable and kind. Within seconds, Colt presses up behind me, which makes me a very lucky piece of meat in the world's sexiest sandwich. His belly fits perfectly into the curve of my back, making me feel safe, protected. Warm.
“No fucking poolside,” Sam trills out as he flashes the deck lights. “You’ve got the whole bunkhouse to yourself now.” He sticks his tongue out at us.
We all laugh and then part, walking up the pathway to the house, hand in hand in hand.
Wordlessly, we pile into the large shower downstairs.
