My brows pinched. “Why?”
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “Didn’t want you to think I was diving into this with you to cope with Garrett.”
My head swung back and forth of its own accord. “I know you’re still grieving him, and if I had known, I’m sure that would have crossed my mind. But we have a past, Beckham. A lot of what’s going on is new, butwe’renot.” I squeezed his hand. “You got me through some hard times. Let me hold you through yours.”
“Okay.” He squeezed me back. “I will.”
“Is he why you quit doing rodeo?” I asked carefully, not wanting to bring up too much after the emotional night.
“He is.”
Silence followed, and I let him decide if he wanted to branch out on that or not. He’d finally let me in on the pain he was feeling, and the last thing I wanted to do was push him too far.
“I just couldn’t do it anymore without him.” His voice cracked on the last word, and I held his hand a little tighter. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be sorry.” I wished for nothing more than to climb over the center console and hug him.
I didn’t ask any more questions, and when we were almost to his property, he spoke up.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“You don’t have to thank me. If Ellis is a part of your life, then she’s a part of mine too. That’s how family works.”
The word had him slowing the vehicle as he turned into his driveway, his gaze focusing on me while he let the truck cruise up the gravel, memory taking over as he’d done this a hundred times before.
As he shifted into park, eyes still on me, he wasted no time sliding off his seat belt and leaning over the center console to kiss me.
30
BECKHAM
EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
My ass grew numb against the heat of the metal pole. The bale of hay beside me was likely a whole pound lighter due to the amount I’d plucked from it, breaking each piece into dozens of tiny slivers only to give my hands something to do.
Parker wasn’t late to our final goodbye. I was early.
To avoid acceptance of any hard situation, most people would simply not show up at all. Me? I showed up early, my nerves not allowing me the opportunity of missing our last farewell.
No one was around to ruin this moment—my siblings were either working somewhere on the ranch or at their respective jobs, and my parents were inside the house. They all knew how important Parker was to me, and how badly this would hurt. Hell, it already did. What was I supposed to do without Parker Summerhillin my life? Without her smiling up at me with those big, bright white teeth and those freckles folding into the creases of her scrunched nose? How would I live without her laugh? Or the thought to get her a Dr. Pepper on ice every time I passed that gas station down the road?
What would a gaping black hole look like? Well, this was my answer.
Would there even be a sun without her? Because as far as I was aware, that giant ball of fire only hung in the sky to shine light on her beauty, to deepen the shades of her freckles and sunburn those shoulders I loved so much.
Unable to sit still any longer, I shoved off the fence that led to the pasture and paced the driveway in front of the barn. I did that for thirty minutes until Parker’s truck rolled up at exactly two o’clock, just like we’d agreed.
Behind it, she towed a three-horse trailer. She’d found the gooseneck on the side of the road in terrible condition. When she’d asked for my help picking it up, it didn’t even have a door. But now, as she swung it around in a large half circle, I saw just how devoted she’d really been to making that thing shine. Her plan was to live in its living quarters while she traveled with Tex, experiencing the country while also learning more about different ranches and their ways of doing things.
She parked the truck and got out, and the forced smile she shot me already had my heart breaking in two.
“You like it?” she asked when she stopped a couple feet from me, glancing at the trailer behind her.
“You sure that’s the same one I helped you drag fourteen miles home?”
Her honey-golden eyes landed on me, and I soaked them in a little more than I usually did. If this was the last time I was going to see her, I had to commit it to memory.
“Same exact one. It’s crazy what a little help sign at the feed store will get you from the locals.”
