“He’s my baby boy. And it isn’t easy, seeing him hurt.”
Tears spill down her cheeks as the tightness in my chest twists even more.
She squeezes my face gently. “But I love you just as much.”
I close my eyes.
“And seeing you happy brings me so much joy.”
When I open my eyes, she’s crying openly now.
“I love Jovie too. Always have.”
Emotion lodges somewhere behind my ribs. Sharp and unexpected.
She continues, “This whole thing is messy.”
That’s probably the understatement of the century.
“But avoiding it isn’t fixing it.” Her voice softens. “Leaving Wyoming without resolving things with your brother will only make that chasm bigger.”
The truth of it lands hard, and I look down at the dirt.
Because that’s exactly what I’ve been considering. Avoiding all the damage I’ve done until it’s time to pack up and head back out on the road.
Like a damn coward.
Grandma steps closer, and her weathered hand lands on my arm. “You have to start building a bridge sometime. May as well be today.”
Silence settles over the yard.
The wind rustles through the cottonwoods. Somewhere in the distance, a horse nickers.
I think about Cabe, and I know they’re right. I can’t let this wound between us fester any longer.
Finally, I let out a long breath. “I’ll talk to her.”
Grandma’s smile grows, and Momma’s shoulders visibly relax.
“I didn’t say yes.”
Grandma waves a dismissive hand. “You’ll be there.”
It’s not a request, and maybe she’s right. Someone has to start building the bridge, even if the other person immediately begins tearing it down.
Today’s as good a day as any to get started.
The closer we get to the ranch house, the tighter Jovie’s grip becomes.
I glance down at our joined hands.
She’s practically crushing mine.
“Doc.”
She shakes her head. “No. This is a terrible idea.”
“It’s just Sunday supper,” I reassure her. “Not an ambush.”
