Beau cracks a smile. Suddenly I remember what Jessie said about Beau and my dad. I don't know anything more than what she told me, because my dad hasn't answered either time I’ve tried to call him.
“How is your dad?” Beau asks, scratching at his nose. His nonchalance feels forced.
“Alright, I suppose. Jessie tells me you knew each other back in the day?”
Beau nods slowly. “We did. Didn't like each other much, either.”
“Why not?”
Beau’s mouth opens like he’s going to answer, but he pauses, and I sense his shift from whatever he was going to say, to the answer he decides to give. “I think your dad should be the one to answer that. If it were one of my boys asking him the question, I’d hope he’d do me the same courtesy.”
“Sure thing,” I answer quickly. Beau’s non-answer brings relief. If the blood between him and my dad had been that bad, he probably wouldn't hesitate to tell me. Allowing my dad the chance to speak his side first implies a level of respect. And that, in turn, tells me the bad blood between our dads is a non-issue for me and Jessie.
I change the subject and tell Beau about my car troubles. He smirks at my story, and I see Wyatt in his features. “That’s what happens when you don’t drive a truck,” he quips, giving me shit. “You need a ride back to the ranch?”
“Yessir,” I nod my head at him. “I’d appreciate it. It’ll keep me from calling Jessie. She’s busy.” She’s knee-deep in running the ranch with Wes, and I’m damn proud of her for fighting to reach her goal.
“That she is,” Beau answers, getting to his feet. “You ready to go?”
I toss my trash in a nearby bin and walk with him to his truck. He’s quiet for a good portion of the drive out of town, but when he takes the turnoff for the ranch, he looks my way.
“Wyatt tells me you used to be married.”
“I was,” I nod. Nerves shoot around through my stomach. “I’m widowed now.”
“I’m awfully sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you dated much since your wife’s passing?”
I bite back a smile. Beau’s fishing, trying to figure out what I’m doing with his daughter. “Jessie is the first.”
He nods. “She’s a handful, that girl. But she deserves the best. And she’ll give you her best, too.” He takes his gaze off the road long enough to fix me with a meaningful stare. “Make sure you’re worthy of it.”
A feeling rips across my chest, like a profound honor has been bestowed upon me. The chance to be Jessie’s man. To care for her, to step in and fill her father’s shoes.
Jessie would say she can fill her own shoes, and she’s not wrong. But she’s not completely right either. She can manage on her own, but how much better can we both be if we’re together?
A euphoric thought hits me, quite suddenly and violently.Some of the best days of my life haven't happened yet.
With this one simple understanding, a weight floats from my chest.
I don’thaveto stay stuck in place, putting all my energy into grieving my mom and Brea. My heart has known this since the moment I met Jessie. The tilt of her head, the lift of her chin, the spark in her eyes, they’ve all beckoned me from my hiding spot safely behind my pain. It was my brain that remained stubborn. Funny how the heart and the brain can go to war with one another.
The white flag has been raised. My heart has won.
“I won’t hurt your daughter, Beau. You have my word.”
He doesn't say anything else until we arrive at Jessie’s cabin, and even then, all he says is goodbye. But he’s pleased with my response.
I go inside, work for a few more hours, then get dinner ready.
My steps are light. My limbs loose. The physical body holds on to emotion, and when you make a choice to release the pains of yesterday, the body knows it.
I’m not saying I’ll never think of Brea again and feel a flash tear across my chest. I fully expect to. But will it debilitate me like it used to? No.
There are still loose ends to tie up in California. But for now?
