Page 66 of Hung Up
Stevie’s expression turns bleak. “He has a suspensory ligament injury. He’s on stall rest for a month, but since Bradly had to quit, I don’t know what that means for his long-term recovery.”
“Bradly quit?” My mom nods. Suddenly, I recall a conversation I had with Dean a few weeks back. “I might havesomeone who would be perfect. He works for the PBR, but he’s looking to go back to ranch work.”
“If he can help me get Finley healed and ready to go back out for next season, then you better drag him by his ear if he says no. My boy needs the best, Jesse. I expect nothing less.”
I raise a brow. “I can’t really attest how good of a vet he is, but considering he’s helped animals from chickens to bulls, I’d think he’s pretty good.”
“Pretty good isn’t good enough.” She turns and walks toward the door, pulling it open before she glances back at me. “You better make sure he’s perfect.”
Once the door closes behind her, I turn to my mother to see her already staring at me. She’s got this way of extracting your thoughts from your head and laying them bare before you even know you had the thought, which is both eerie and annoying. And that look in her eye tells me she has a lot that she wants to dissect.
And when she pats one of the barstools, signaling for me to sit, I suddenly feel like I’m a kid again, about to get a life lesson.
“Did I ever tell you how your father and I met?” The question catches me off guard, so I shake my head. I’ve heard Dad’s version, but I’ve never heard hers. “I was twenty-two years old and had just broken off my engagement. In a desperate attempt to leave my life behind in Los Angeles, I got in the car with only my duffel bag and my chihuahua, Lenny. I didn’t know where I was going; I had no destination in mind. I just knew I couldn’t stay there.”
She pulls out the stool next to me and sits down, resting an elbow on the island countertop and setting her head in her hand. “I stalled on a random dirt road, and the map I was using had blown out the window hours before this. So there I sat, on the hood of my car with my dog, waiting for someone, anyone, to drive by. And then your father did.
“He pulled up in his pickup with that brown cowboy hat he loved so much, only at this time it was brand new, his country drawl so thick I struggled to understand him at first. And boy oh boy did he judge me. My hippie clothes and my chihuahua weren’t exactly selling points for him. But he gave me a ride into Aspen Creek and dropped me off at The Tumbleweed so I could call for a tow truck.
“Your father was so judgmental for someone who screamed ‘stereotypical country boy’, it irked me like you wouldn’t believe. So, when I was told they couldn’t get my vehicle ‘til the next day and, based on what I told him, he said it’d probably take a few days to fix, I hitched a ride here, to your father’s ranch.”
She laughs as she relives the memory. “To say he wasn’t happy with my arrival is an understatement, but I figured, hey, if I’m stuck here for a few days, I might as well have some fun with my time. At the time, in my mind, the most fun I would have was annoying the hell out of him. But at some point over those few days, he warmed up to me and started sharing his life with me. He even taught me how to ride a horse.” My eyebrows raise in surprise. “I know, I used to love riding horses, if you would believe that.”
“So what happened?”
“My car was fixed, he took me to pick it up, and I went on my merry way.”
My brows furrow. “Wait, you left?”
“Yup.” She lets her hand fall away from her face, her hands intertwined together to rest on the marble. “Went all the way to Chicago, spent a year and a half there, and decided I was done with city life. I hated my job and missed the peace I found here, the calm only a small town can give you. So, I got in my car and came back here. But you know what I found when I rolled up to the ranch?” I shake my head. “Your father was seeing someone.”
“He was seeing someone?” I think back to all the stories he used to tell us when we were kids before he passed. “Dad always said you were the first woman he ever loved.”
“I was.” She smiles, a genuine, happy smile. “It just took him a while to see that.” Her eyes drift to look out the window, almost like she’s seeing it unfold before her. “I ended up getting a job at The Tumbleweed and always insisted on working late so I could see him when he came in. We’d talk, but it never went anywhere. Until one day, when his girlfriend came into the bar and tried to start a fight with me.”
“Why’d she do that?”
Her cheeks turn a light shade of crimson. “Well, your father told her he couldn’t see her anymore because he was in love with me. Of course she took that to mean he had been cheating on her, but he really hadn’t been. We grew to love each other without ever really having one another.”
She looks at me after she says that last part with a knowing smile, reaching for my hands resting on the countertop and giving them a squeeze. I suddenly understand why she decided to tell me this story, but I wait for her to say what I know she wants to.
Sometimes, a little motherly advice is the best advice.
“There are people in this world who are meant to be in your life, and sometimes they take a while to show up. And when they do, it may not always go the way you think it’s going to go.” She lifts one hand and pushes some curls out of my face, tapping my cheek gently before letting it fall back on top of mine. “But sometimes that road you didn’t think you’d have to travel to get to them is the one you were destined to take.”
Her advice hits me hard, a lump growing in my throat. In my moments of doubt, I wondered if I was crazy. If I should just throw in the towel because having to go through all this emotional turmoil and strain is too much for anybody. But thenI would think back to what she said, about how she thought she was too difficult to love, and then I realized the effort I had been putting in was exactly what she needed. Faith Thompson needs someone who would move the moon if she asked them to, and if she asked me, I would be insane enough to try.
Faith needs someone like me.
And I’ll stop at nothing to make her see that.
“Thank you, Mom.” I slip my hands out of hers and give her a hug. She squeezes me back, rubbing a gentle circle on my back with one hand before I feel her head turn toward the window.
“I know it might be difficult, and I’m not sure what kind of things you both have already gone through, but just remember that even brick walls can be torn down.” She pulls away, resting her hands on my shoulders. “I knew your father was the one I was destined to spend my life with, and if I had to redo everything all over again, I would. If you know she’s the one, you do everything you can until she sees it, too.”
I’m about to reply when I hear a car honk outside, and I swear my heart rate lurches into dangerous territory. My mother gives me a giant smile before she spins me around and shoves me toward the door, staying perched on the barstool. I know I’ve overprepared for her arrival—if she doesn’t give me a hard time, I’ll be surprised—but I can’t help but feel like her showing up is a surprise.
I guess part of me thought she’d back out.
