Somehow, it feels hard to start talking even knowing that Jenny wants to have this conversation as much as I do. Maybe it’s because I know that she wants to fix this too, that this matters to her just like it matters to me. We get on each other’s nerves, but she’s always been better than me when it comes to being honest. She’s good at saying what she means. As for me, my tongue gets away from me when I’m upset.
Not this time, though. I don’t want to fuck this chance up. Especially not here.
“I talked to Mary,” I start.
Jenny rakes her eyes over me, and heat rises to my cheeks as she obviously catalogs the fact that I’m freshly showered and have changed clothes since I stormed out during breakfast. Thankfully, she doesn’t call attention to it past a teasing grin.
“Yeah?”
“She made some pretty good points,” I say, glancing at Jenny apologetically. “I ignored them when you made the same points. I’m sorry.”
Jenny looks completely flabbergasted, and it’s a little upsetting to realize that she should be. This is the first time in years I’ve properly apologized to her, and it’s the first time ever that I’ve admitted she’s right about this. She swallows her surprise and nods firmly, meeting my eyes with a pleased, glimmering stare of her own.
“She’s good at getting people to listen.”
We continue staring at each other for a long moment, neither of us entirely sure how to talk to each other anymore.
“I’m… not,” I admit with a wince. “And I’m not great at listening, either.”
Jenny snorts, but there’s almost no frustration in the sound. It’s been years since I’ve actually heard a laugh from her.
“If I listen to your side of things—really listen—can I tell you what it’s been like for me?” I ask. “I want my daughter to know me, and I want to know my daughter.”
It feels like I’m holding out an olive branch with the world’s most unsteady hand, but Jenny takes pity on me. She smiles at me. It’s a real smile, open and welcoming, the kind she hasn’t directed toward me in over half a decade, and I have to swallow hard to stop myself from tearing up.
“I’ll listen if you will,” she says.
It’s one of the most important promises we’ve ever made to each other. I won’t screw up this time.
“I was a kid when I met your mom,” I say, smiling softly at the picture of her. “I won the damn jackpot with her. I won’t pretend things were always easy—I was a stubborn asshole and she didn’t put up with any of my shit. But when she died, I didn’t think I’d ever find something like that again. I didn’twantto find it, either. I was so scared that I’d disgrace Laura’s memoryby falling for the wrong person that I just holed myself away here to rot. I wasn’t ready to admit that I was making everything around me rot, too.”
Jenny’s eyes are dark with grief, both old and new, and it hurts to see just how much I’ve hurt her. If I’d known that I had to be kind to myself before I could ever hope to offer the same to her, well… I don’t know what I would have done. I probably still would have fucked it up.
I wasn’t ready to make a change before, but now, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.
“I thought Mary was annoying as all hell when she showed up,” I say, laughing to myself and shaking my head. “She was too damn pretty and she wouldn’t stop smiling, and I couldn’t get her to leave me alone. Somewhere along the way, I realized that she really was just trying to help me, and then I realized I’d fallen for her. She managed to remind me that I’m allowed to be happy.”
“Youdeserveto be happy,” Jenny corrects me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That’s all Mom ever wanted for you. That’s all I wanted for you.”
I reach out for her hand, taking a steadying breath when she smiles and squeezes my fingers in hers. Her palm is smaller and softer than mine, but she’s got plenty of calluses from growing up on the ranch.
“I’m sorry for making it hard on you,” I whisper. “Thank you for trying over and over.”
Jenny laughs, shaking her head. The sound is a little teary, but for the first time in forever, they’re happy tears on her cheeks.
“I’m glad someone finally managed to get through to you,” she says. “Can I have a hug?”
“Of course you can.”
I pull her in close, squeezing her tightly against my chest. It’s been years since I’ve hugged her, and it’s a bit overwhelming. She politely pretends not to feel the tears that slip down my cheeks, and I pretend not to feel the way her shoulders shake.
If this is what a real step forward feels like, I want to start making leaps and bounds.
Jenny holds onto me for a long moment, and I have to force myself to release her when she lets me go. I’m committed to not screwing things up again, so I won’t have to ration hugs from her. I can do this, side by side with her, and we’ll rebuild our family together.
“I want to talk about the ranch, too,” she says as she steps back, wiping her cheeks.
“Mary said she had some clients she wanted to meet with,” I say. “I agreed to go to anything you two set up if you need me there.”
