“How are you, sweetheart?”
“Nervous.”
“Oh, well, a little bit of nerves is a good sign. Means you care.”
She deposits a fresh bag of ice onto the table.
Then she immediately asks, “Where’s my son?”
I laugh.
Of course she thinks I’d know where Cabe is.
“He texted about twenty minutes ago. Said he was on his way.”
“That boy’ll be late for his own funeral.”
“He can’t help it. He works so hard,” Imma Jean chimes in.
“I know,” Irene says, pride clear in her voice.
Imma Jean hands me a jar of ice-cold tea as the massive doors swing open.
And Axle walks inside, followed by Royce and Cabe.
The Trust brothers.
For a second, I’m twelve years old again.
It’s been years since I’ve seen Royce and Axle in person.
Years.
Long enough that the boys I remember are gone.
The men crossing the room are something else entirely.
They’re bigger. Broader. Older. Manlier.
Years of rodeo and ranch work have carved muscles and confidence into all three of them.
Yet, somehow, I’d know them anywhere.
Cabe spots us instantly, and the three of them head straight our way.
Axle reaches Irene first.
She barely has time to open her arms before he’s embracing her.
Royce leans down and kisses Imma Jean’s cheek.
She beams.
Cabe arrives beside me.
The gesture is so familiar and comforting that some of my remaining nerves instantly disappear.
“It smells amazing in here,” Cabe says, inhaling dramatically. “I’m so hungry; I could eat an entire cow.”
