“I’ll be honest, kid. I don’t know the first thing about raisin’ a teenager, but I’m willin’ to try.”
“That’s okay. I’ll be easy, I promise.”
“I’m not worried about it, dude. We’ll figure it out as we go.” Glancing at his grandma, I ask, “When is the move takin’ place?”
“I’m leavin’ the end of next month,” she offers. “I need Lukas to help me pack and get the house ready.”
“Okay.” I nod, making a mental list of everything I’ll need to do before then. “That’ll give me plenty of time to get his room set up.” Looking to Lukas, I add, “Maybe before you move in, we can paint and get it nice and cozy for you. You can pick the color and everythin’.”
“Really?” A smile curves his lips.
“Absolutely!”
“That would be awesome.”
My chest warms at his excitement, and I find myself getting excited too. Sure, I’m terrified I’m going to fuck this up, but also… This could be really great. It could turn out to be the best thing I’ve ever done.
At least, I hope so.
The last thing I want to do is fuck this kid up even more than he already is, between a dead dad, no mom, and a grandma who is, quite literally, passing him off to a stranger because that’s how much she doesn’t want the responsibility.
Once we finish eating, and I pay the tab, Lukas and I head outside while Wynona makes a pit stop to the restroom. The sun has gone down, and there’s a slight chill in the air. Lukas’s shoulders are clear up to his ears now, his hands stuffed into his pockets, and I can tell he’s nervous.
Neither of us says anything for a moment, but eventually, he looks at me and blurts out, “I promise I love my grandma.”
The statement takes me by surprise and makes me chuckle. “I never questioned if you did or not.”
He breathes out a sigh. “I just… I can’t live with her. And I can’t move to North Dakota. I just can’t. I know this was a big ask of you, and I’m sure there’s tons of other things you’d rather do than live with a teenager, but…” Lukas swallows hard before he says, “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“I get it, kid. I wouldn’t wanna move there either.” I snort. “And you don’t have to thank me.”
It’s not long before his grandma comes out, and we go our separate ways, but not before she lets me know that she’ll be contacting her attorney in the morning to set up a meeting to make this an official thing. The whole drive home, I’mwondering if I’m in over my head. I feel like I need to go to the bookstore tomorrow and buy all those parenting books you see pregnant women reading. Consume as many of them as I can in the next month and a half, so maybe by the time he moves in, I have even an inkling of an idea about what I’m doing.
Gentry’s words come back to me from the diner earlier this week.
“Who better to take in this thirteen-year-old boy, who just lost his father in a fire, than you?”
He seemed so sure of me, and that felt…nice. Really nice.
I just hope he’s right.
Four
Gentry
Iglance at the clock on the dash, then, begrudgingly, kill the engine and pocket my keys as I step out of the truck. I’ve surprised myself by coming here tonight, but I’m not yet convinced that I won’t turn back around and go home before I even make it inside.
Dr. Kroye’s suggestion to give pottery a try has weighed heavily on my mind for the last few weeks. I’m mostly on the side of it being a terrible idea that’s going to do nothing but waste my time. But this week, especially, has been rough, with an unexpected late-season cold front hitting Wolf Creek and trying to get the cattle vaccinated and ready for breeding season in the coming months. Nothing is helping, and more often than not lately, I’m getting home at night, barely able to close my hand into a fist.
Something has to give. I’m desperate. Which is why I’m walking through the parking lot of the nearly vacant strip mall on the outskirts of town. It’s almost six o’clock, the moon is full and shining bright, and it’s so cold, I can see my own breath.
My stomach is a mess of knots as I pull open the door to Clayful Creations. I know nothing about this class, other than that it’s for beginners. I’ve never felt more under-prepared in my life. I’m a man of routine, a man of structure. My days look the same for the most part, and I’ve done ranching long enough that I can go through the motions without ever thinking twice.
Ranching is what I know. It’s what I’m good at.
I don’t like things I’m not good at.
And I definitely don’t like learning something new. It’s a sure-fire way for me to walk away feeling inadequate. But, like I said, I’m desperate. If Dr. Kroye is right, and thisdoeshelp the range of motion in my hands, then I’m willing to try. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to like it.
