Page 140 of 11 Cowboys
Levi steps forward and opens the door for her, holding it wide. “Go in and see, darlin’.”
She walks inside and goes still. Inside, the floor is smooth and made of sanded pine. There’s a wide desk made from an old barn door, shelves already holding books we unpacked from boxes that arrived from Grace’s apartment. We picked out some to display: poetry, some cowboy romance that made us all smile and nod knowingly, and a weird dystopian romance with a cool-looking zombie on the cover that will hopefully scare the kids away if they come disturbing. A worn leather chair sits in the corner, and the throw blanket from Grace’s room is draped over it. A lampwe found at a flea market casts a soft yellow glow over everything. The painting McCartney created for her birthday hangs on the wall, a reminder of our commitment and her new life. Lennon even snuck in a tiny coffee machine because, of course, he did.
“Who did this?” she asks.
Lennon leans against the wall, arms crossed, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “Three guesses.”
“All of us,” I say. “It isn’t perfect. The paint’s a little uneven. Levi dropped a whole can down the steps. And Jaxon hung that shelf crooked, even after swearing he used a level. But it’s yours. Your corner of the world. We remembered what you said. About how your apartment was too stark to ever feel like home. About how you used to write in closets when you were little because of the noise and distraction. About your dream of writing books that will touch people’s hearts.”
She blinks rapidly. “You remembered all that?”
I nod. “We hear you, Grace.”
She’s quiet. Too quiet.
Then she turns around, and her cheeks are wet with tears.
She walks back to me and buries herself in my chest. I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head.
“This is the first place,” she says softly, “that feels like it was made for me.”
“It was,” I say. “It is.”
Levi steps up beside us and wraps an arm around both our shoulders. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
Lennon taps the window frame lightly and says, “Now you’ve got to finish that novel.” He winks, but there’s a shine in his eyes, too. A shine that says he believes in her. We all do.
As Grace wipes away tears and leans into me, there’s a shout from outside the little cabin.
“Gracie!”
We all turn as the sound of feet pounding the earth getslouder—Eli, Junie, Hannah, Caleb, and Matty come tearing around the side of the barn, hair flying, faces bright with excitement.
Eli barrels straight into Grace’s legs, nearly knocking her off balance. Grace laughs, stumbling back into me as she steadies her.
“Whoa there, cowgirl.” She crouches. “You okay?”
Eli nods furiously, then looks behind her, wide-eyed at the cabin. “Is this yours? Like… your actual house?”
Grace blinks, surprised by the question. “Well… no, it isn’t a house. Just a little space for writing and thinking.”
Eli chews on her lip, considering that. Then, her voice goes quieter. “Does it mean you’re staying?”
The whole cluster of kids waits, staring. Even Junie, who never stops moving, pauses to look at Grace with those big eyes full of worry and hope.
Dust rises, and Brody, Jaxon, Cody, Dylan, Conway, Harrison, McCartney, and Corbin filter over from the house and barn, drawn like magnets to this tiny building and the woman standing in its center.
Grace stands slowly and looks at all of us, one by one. Her eyes are damp but clear. Her voice, when it comes, doesn’t shake.
“Yes,” she says. “I’m staying.”
Eli throws her arms around Grace’s waist so hard she has to brace her feet. Junie clings to her arm. Hannah tucks herself against Grace’s side and doesn’t let go.
“You’re really, really back?” Eli says into her stomach.
Grace nods, kneeling so she can wrap all three of them up in her arms, then five when Caleb and Matty push forward. “I’m back for good.”
I watch as Brody’s throat works. Conway crosses his arms and looks up at the sky like he’s thanking some higher being. Dylan mutters something about “damn dust in the air” and wipes the corner of his eye.
