"'Local Girl Shows Regional Talent,'" Pops quoted, grinning. "She framed that clippin'. Had it matted and everythin'. It's still in her office."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of her absence familiar but no longer crushing.
"Alright," I said, standing. "Break's over. Quad sets next. Tighten and hold for five seconds. Fifteen reps. And before you complain—"
"I was gonna say this is cruel and unusual punishment."
"—it's necessary. So quit whining and start squeezing." I settled cross-legged on the floor. "Also, if you're good, maybe I'll make those cookies later. Low-sodium recipe. They taste like cardboard, but at least they're healthy cardboard."
"You're a terrible motivator. Worst I ever seen."
"Yet here you are, doing the exercises."
He grumbled but complied, working through the quad sets. We cycled through the remaining exercises, and by the end, he was exhausted, his face flushed and damp, but there was satisfaction underneath the fatigue.
"Good work," I said, gathering the equipment. "You're getting stronger every day."
"Feel like I got trampled by my own cattle. Then they backed up and did it again just for fun."
"That's how you know it's working." I squeezed his shoulder. "Nana always said pain is just weakness leaving the body."
"Nana also said whiskey was a food group and bet on horses like it was an Olympic sport. Not sure we should take all her advice as gospel." But he caught my hand, holding it between both of his. "You've been takin' care of me real good, kiddo. Better than I deserve."
"You're family. That's what we do." I tried to keep my voice light.
His expression shifted, the lightness draining away as he studied my face. "You've been sad, Winnie. Don't think I haven't noticed. You won regionals—biggest achievement of your career—and you've been movin' through it like a ghost at your own funeral. Ever since that boy showed up and then..." He trailed off.
"There's nothing to talk about." I stood, busying myself with folding the resistance bands. "I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar. Always have been." He shifted on the couch. "You know, I've still got that shotgun. The one your grandmother bought me. Shoots real straight. I could always take a drive up to Dallas. Have a conversation with that Sterling boy about breakin' my granddaughter's heart."
Despite the ache in my chest, I laughed. "You can barely make it to the kitchen without needin' a nap. How exactly are you planning this vigilante road trip?"
"I've got determination. And a walker with wheels—that's practically a getaway vehicle right there. I'd just need you to aim the truck toward Dallas and maybe help me out of the seat when we get there. After that, it's between me, him, and my twelve-gauge. I'll bring the good shells, too."
"Pretty sure threatening a billionaire with a firearm is illegal in all fifty states."
"Only if you get caught. And I'm old—I'd play the dementia card. 'Sorry, officer, I thought he was a coyote threatenin' my livestock. A really tall, really rich coyote in fancy boots.'"
I snorted, settling into the chair across from him. "Cassie would help you. She's been threatening to 'handle him' since regionals."
"That girl's got spirit. But I don't think shootin' him would fix what's hurtin' you, would it?"
The laughter died in my throat. "No. Probably not."
"You love him." Not a question.
"Yeah," I admitted quietly. "I do. Which makes me an idiot, because he made his choice. Two weeks of silence kind of says it all."
"Did he tell you he chose Dallas? Or are you just assumin'?"
"He didn't have to. It's been two weeks, Pops. Fourteen days of nothing. If he'd chosen differently... he'd be here."
"Maybe. Or maybe that boy's been figurin' out how to untangle himself from a billionaire daddy with control issues and lawyers on speed dial, and it's takin' longer than a phone call."
"Or maybe he took the money and the deal and is living his real life in Dallas. That's the logical choice, Pops. Turn down a million dollars for a girl you've known for so little? That's insane."
"Love usually is." He said it simply. "I proposed to your grandmother three weeks after we met. Everyone said we were crazy. We had forty-seven years. Sometimes the insane choice is the right one."
