Page 174 of Ride the Sky

I grip the handle tighter. “It doubles as a weapon, so I can’t complain.”

A chuckle.

I shoot a sideways glance at my father. Gruff and gray and one of the most important people in my life. I hate that we’ve been so far apart. Hate that he hurt me and I hurt him.

Outside the barn, there’s a bench made out of an old tree stump. My father gestures at it. “Sit, kid.”

“You’re older than me, you sit.”

Amusement twitches his mustache. “We’ll both sit.”

We do. I lean my cane against the wall of the barn, twisting to face him. “I don’t want you to be at mad me anymore. It sucks, and I hate it. I hate that you think I messed up. That I disappointed you.”

A long silence. Then my father’s typically hard features crease with unhappiness. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I reckon I’ve been more stubborn than usual.”

I snort. “That’s an understatement.”

“Hell, I know I reacted the wrong way. I wasn’t ready for it. Any of it. You comin’ home, bein’ hurt, and then…to learn you got married, even if it was for a practical reason, it shocked me. I’m an old man. I’m old school.”

“Old school doesn’t mean acting like an asshole.”

A laugh pops out. “You’re right. It doesn’t.” There’s a strange acceptance in his tone.

We sit in silence for a few seconds.

“Cowboys are cowards,” my father says suddenly. “They leave.” When I snap open my mouth, he holds up a hand, cutting me off before I can argue with him. “And when I say that, I don’t mean Wyatt. I mean myself.”

“Why?” I prompt.

My father removes his hat, sets it on his lap. “I did my fair share of leavin’ in my marriage. I’m the one who drove your mother off, Fallon.”

My heart trembles. For so long, I’ve wondered what went wrong. Always stopped myself from asking my father, because I knew it hurt too much. I settled for glimpses and memories from Koty. Photos in an album.

“She was angry at me for ridin’ in the rodeo. For being gone all the time. One night, it was late, you kids were in bed. We fought, and I told her to go. Just pack her bags and leave if she couldn’t do it anymore.” Guilt lines his expression. “And she did. She called me on my bluff.” His voice gets thick. “I’ll blame myself to the end of my damn days for takin’ away your mama.”

I sigh. “You didn’t take her away, Dad. She left.”

His sober expression turns thoughtful. “You’re like her, you know. You think you’re like me, and you are, but you’re like her, too. Stubborn. Bullheaded. Shuts down when she’s sad.”

“Sounds about right,” I muse.

“Marriage ain’t for the fainthearted. I loved that woman, but neither of us was cut out for marriage. Although, I got you two girls, so I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He lifts his eyes to me. “It scared me that you made a mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No.” I heave a breath. Memories of this summer flicker. Porch nights. Whiskey kisses. Hot tub confessions. “I am a cowboy, but cowboys can love. Maybe the best. Because, Daddy, I—” My heart blooms in my chest. “I love him. I love Wyatt.”

My father grins, his gaze fixing on the gold band on my left hand.“You do, do you?”

“I do. Too much.”

Wyatt and I—we don’t complement each other. Instead, we pair. Two halves. Synced heartbeats. Like those wild horses. I was always meant to be with him. Even if I fought it. Even if I lied to myself. Even if I ran.

My heart, my stubborn, idiotic, stupid heart, has always been his.

Now he needs to know it.

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