Jaxon
Various books and ledgers are spread out across the desk in my home office. I keep reading the same line items over and over, and the numbers are starting to blur together.
I toss my glasses onto a stack of papers and lean back in my chair, rolling my neck and shoulders until I hear a satisfying pop.
My eyes snag on a small gold frame tucked away on a bookshelf. Ryan’s smiling face stares back at me as we stand side by side, elbows draped over the fence to the pasture with the horses grazing in the background. It was taken the day he told me he was moving to Colorado to join the Mountain States rodeo circuit. I was so goddamn proud of him.
I didn’t know then that he’d never get to see those dreams come to fruition.
He’s been gone for almost thirteen years this summer, and I still miss him every day. I met him when we were just two young kids riding bareback and chasing barn cats around the ranch. His dad was a ranch hand here for the better part of twenty years, but he retired a few years after Ryan’s accident. I have astanding invitation to stop by his parents’ house for avisit, but I can’t bring myself to see them—not knowing the role I played in his death.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off an impending headache.
“Uncle Jaxy!”
A wide smile breaks across my face as the light of my life barrels in through the office doors and throws herself onto my lap. “Well, hey there, Emmy Lou. How’s my best girl?”
Four-year-old Emmy belongs to my oldest brother, Wilder. I missed out on a lot of time with her in the early days when they still lived in Colorado. I couldn’t fly to Denver knowing Ryan would never make that trip himself. After losing his wife in a tragic accident a few years ago, Wilder finally moved back home, and I’ve been making up for lost time ever since.
“Mama told me to come get you ‘cause we made your favorite cowboy cookies.”
“You did, huh? I better get there before Uncle Griff steals ‘em all.”
I place Emmy on her feet, and she grabs me by the hand, tugging me along with her.
It’s a short walk up to Wilder’s house, where I find Olivia sitting crisscross on the front porch holding onto my youngest niece’s hands.
Olivia tentatively lets go of Gracie and holds out her arms, ready to catch her if she falls. At just over a year old, Gracie’s still a bit wobbly on her feet, managing a single step before she crashes into her mama’s legs.
Emmy rushes up the steps and sits down opposite them. She claps. “Good job, Sissy.”
Gracie smiles and quickly crawls over to her big sister. They’re thick as thieves. Wilder’s gonna have his hands full when they grow up. Already does, I suppose.Not that he’s complaining; in fact, he’s never been happier. In many respects, I envy him.
“Hey Jax,” Olivia says. “Come for the cookies?”
“You know it. Griff here yet? He can always sniff ‘em out a mile away.”
Olivia laughs. “That’s why I sent Emmy to give you a head start. Better hurry.”
“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite sister-in-law?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “I’m your only sister-in-law, but thank you.”
Olivia met Wilder on his flight back to Oak Ridge. They hit it off immediately. She got pregnant, and the rest is history. If you ask Wilder, he’ll tell you it was a goddamn miracle. Can’t say I blame him. Olivia’s what I would describe as sunshine incarnate. You can’t help but love her.
She stands, picks up Gracie, and holds out her free hand for Emmy. I grab the handle of the screen door and usher them inside. The whole house smells like freshly-baked oatmeal with a hint of chocolate.
My mouth waters as I take in the giant stack of cookies in the middle of the kitchen island. I lift the glass dome and shove one into my mouth. It’s still warm and gooey, the flavors instantly melting on my tongue. It’s almost better than sex. “Fucking hell, Liv. I think these might be the best ones yet.”
Emmy rushes over to the counter with a step stool in hand and climbs until she can reach the vintage peanut butter jar in the corner near the coffeemaker. She grunts, twisting open the lid, then holds it out to me. “That’ll be one dollar, please.”
“Tiny tyrant.” I fish a dollar bill out of my pocket and drop it into the swear jar. I’ve taken to keeping cash on hand for just such occasions. If anybody ever had cause to search my pockets, they’d think I’d been frequenting strip clubs with the number of singles I have on hand.
The jar is almost filled to the brim. Between my brothers and the rest of the ranch hands, she’s probably got enough money to buy a horse.
Emmy glances down at the now-empty Polaroid tattoo on my forearm and frowns.
“I know. Time to pick out a new one, yeah?”
