Page 65 of Head Over Spurs

Dropping forward to rest her elbows on the counter, Jules let out a sigh. “Since Grandpa died, you haven’t seemed to care where I was heading or what I was doing. And it hurt?—”

“Honey—”

“But.” She held up her hand to stop his interjection. He flinched ever so slightly but fell quiet once again. “But here’s the thing. When Mom showed up and asked me to dinner, she said the same thing about you. Said it’s why she left. And I wasso annoyed—like why wouldn’t she just talk to you about it before giving up. And then I realized I did the same thing to you. I left instead of trying to talk to you about it.”

He still didn’t say anything, instead his expression had turned to one of crippling sadness. His shoulders slumped.

“That’s what I’m doing here. I’m fighting for us. Because honestly, I really need my dad right now.” Her voice broke over the last words, causing him to launch from his seat and come around the island to hug her.

“I’m sorry, I care, honey. I care.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Fill me in.”

So, she did. Allowing him to lead her to a seat, she told him about the reason she went to Sterling Ridge, the magazine, and the jumble of emotions in her chest—just not the specifics about Riley. Those feelings were still too hard.

“I just don’t know what I want anymore. How did you do it all those years? Balancing a career and a life. Because I can’t seem to have both.”

A deep laugh escaped him. “I didn’t.”

“Youdid. You were back in this kitchen for dinner with us every night. We took vacations. You came to all my soccer games even when I hardly played. You were there.”

“Because your grandfather was the one carrying this place. I didn’t have to worry about the career.”

Her heart sank. “Oh.”

“You know, he never wanted me to take over the business.”

She blinked back at him. That was not what she expected to hear.

“He said he didn’t want it pulling me down. That he never intended it to be a family legacy. He told me to enjoy the horses with you, and your mom, and sell off what I needed in order to keep the things we wanted. It sounded simple enough, but then he died.”

Miles paused to take a drink of coffee and compose the rising tightness in his voice. “When he died, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. It was like letting go of the last piece I had of him.”

“That’s how I feel about the Mustang,” she murmured, swiping at the tears welling up in her eyes. She never knew any of this. She suspected it, but hearing him admitting it was harder than she thought it would be.

He nodded back at her, a small smile on his face. “He loved building that car for you. You were his pride and joy, not the business. You.”

“Then why do you think you leaned into the business instead?”

“Emotions are difficult for the Graham family,” he replied ruefully. “Your mom runs away from them; I distract myself with firm logic and numbers. I guess we didn’t set a good example for you.”

“But you did, for so many years. We were perfect.”

Miles pushed the barstool back and crossed his arms as a bone deep sigh escaped him. “I am so glad you remember it that way. That was always the goal, kid. But we were far from perfect. When you weren’t around, your mom and I hardly spoke to one another. She didn’t want to admit that this wasn’t the life she wanted. I figured if I didn’t push her to say so, then she would keep sticking around.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her chest tightening.

“We lived on borrowed time, and I am grateful for every second I got to make those memories as a family. But just because I accepted that she left, does not mean for one minute I would ever accept losing out with you.”

“Are you happy now? With the business?”

A tight smile tugged at her father’s mouth. “I’m happy to hold onto your grandfather’s memory.”

Apparently, all these years, Miles Graham was just holding onto the idea of home that he had. It certainly sounded familiar, this desperate need forhome.

“Dad, that’s not where his memory is.” She leaned back from the counter to press her hand over her heart. “It’s right here. Every time we talk about him, live the way he lived. His memory is in us. Like, I’ll always see Grandpa when I eat a hot dog. You remember the Thanksgiving he sent the turkey up in smoke and hotdogs were the only other thing we had to cook in a pinch? That was the best Thanksgiving ever.”

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