It wasn’t until after Mom passed away that I was walking home from school with Deeks and Cooper one day and there he was.
Mom had only been dead for eight days, and I still felt raw on the inside. I didn’t know how any of us were getting up and dressed and off to school every morning. It was just happening somehow. None of us talked much. Talking was too close to thinking, and thinking was… freaking unbearable.
Mom was gone.
But Dad was still there.
And her death wasn’t making him any nicer.
I didn’t know how we were going to survive it.
Everything seemed so hopeless, but none of us had the courage to admit it.
Then we saw this man standing across the street. He was watching us; I could feel it. My feet itched to run, but Deeks grabbed my sleeve, yanking me to a stop and yelling at the man, “What do you want? You some perv or something? Just try it, mister!”
“Deeks, shut up.” Cooper clipped the back of his head, and my brothers started to scuffle. But I stood still, staring across the road as the old man lifted his beat-up Stetson hat and crossed the street. I couldn’t look away from the cowboy as he approached us. His scuffed boots stepped up onto the curb, and he clicked his fingers at my brothers.
“Cooper. Deacon. Stop that right now.”
They jerked apart and blinked at the man as he crouched down in front of me.
“Hello, Michael.”
I gasped. How’d he know my name?
“Grandpa?” Cooper’s surprised whisper explained it all.
“Holy shit!” Deeks exclaimed.
“Mind your language, son. A good man doesn’t need to cuss in order to say what needs to be said.” Grandpa lightly patted his shoulder with a smile.
Deeks look confused, like he was trying to work out what the man was talking about, but then he shook his head and hitched his shoulder. “I recognize you. From pictures. So, where the hell have you been?”
The man’s face washed with a look of pure agony before he managed to pull his lips into a wobbly smile. “Why don’t I take you boys out for ice cream and I’ll tell you all about it?”
“We’re not supposed to go with strangers,” I murmured softly.
“He’s not a stranger.” Cooper’s voice was so sure I could do nothing else but believe him.
Grandpa smiled down at my older brother, mussing up his hair. “Come on, boys. Show me where we can find the best ice cream in town.”
We started walking, and I gazed up at the man between us, this weird feeling expanding in my chest.
He’d come.
He’d finally come to save us.
A thump against the attic floor makes my eyes snap open, and I jerk up in time to see the stairs disappear.
Heavy steps thump up the ladder and I brace myself, wondering if I’ve just been caught.
But it’s Annie.
Her skin is pale, making her blue eyes pop even more. They have a fiery edge to them as she brushes her gaze over mine, then looks up at the skylight.
“Hi,” I greet her. It’s awkward, but I’m not sure what else to do.
She’s pinching her arms, and the tendon in her neck looks ready to snap as she paces in the small space.
“You okay?”
My question stills her. She shoots a look at me, then walks to the stool, lightly kicking it with the tip of her sneaker. The harmonica wobbles but doesn’t fall off. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Okay, so she’s a bad liar.
“Something happen down in the diner?”
“No.” Her chin jerks up before she glances down at me, her tight smile comical enough to make me chuckle.
“Liar.”
She scowls and huffs, uncrosses her arms, and then plunks down on the end of the mattress. “What are you readin’?” she snaps.
I gaze at her, trying to decipher the twitch of her lips and the way her eyebrows dip together. Something’s pissing her off big-time. I hope it’s not me. After all she’s done, the last thing I want to do is upset her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I don’t want to talk about it! Now what are you readin’?”
“It’s not because of me, is it?”
“It’s got nothin’ to do with you. Now tell me what you’re readin’ before I lose my mind and start yellin’ at you too!”
Oooh, man, she’s got some fire in her. I usually hate yelling, but there’s something kind of appealing about the spark in her eyes right now.
It’s probably easy for me to think that because whatever anger is burning in her isn’t directed at me.
I grin and lift up the book. “The Brave Cowboy by Edward Abbey.”
“Wow.” Her pale eyebrows rise, her lips relaxing a little. “That’s an old book right there. You like readin’?”
I shrug. “I used to. This was my grandpa’s favorite book. When I saw it on the shelf, I couldn’t resist.”
Her eyes light with a grin. “It was my grandpa’s favorite too. He tried to get me to read it so many times, but I just couldn’t do it. Old westerns are not my thing.”
I laugh, then instantly regret it as a sharp pain fires up my side. I brush my fingers over the bandage but stop as soon as I catch the worry on her face.
“I’m good.” I nod. “Really. I just need to not laugh or sneeze too much. Or cough. I’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t look convinced, so I quickly change the subject. Talking about something else will distract both of us. Her face was starting to relax, and I want to get back to that look, because maybe it means she’s not thinking about whatever happened before she stomped up here.
“What was he like? Your grandpa.”
Her smile grows instantly but then starts to fade. “He was a good man. Hardworkin’. He started Duke’s Diner when he was twenty-one. He’d just married my gramma, and they worked their butts off. He was a real good chef, though. People loved his food. And my gramma, she could charm anybody with that smile of hers.”
Like her granddaughter.
“They made Duke’s a staple of this town. The only reason it’s still runnin’ is because of them.”
“Well, and you. I mean, you work there, right? Carrying on the family tradition.”
Her lips droop, and I wish I hadn’t said that. I was trying to distract her with something happy. As much as I want to find out more, I scramble to lighten the tone, saying the first thing that pops into my head. “My grandpa owned a big ranch. Passed down through the family.”
Why did I just say that? I never talk about him. Not to anyone.
Annie’s lips turn up at the corners and she swivels on the mattress to face me. “Is that why you want to be a rancher?”
When did I say that?
I blink, trying to figure out how I’d let that slip and why the idea of becoming a rancher sounds so damn inspiring.
Licking my lips, I look down at the book in my hands, pressing my palm against the old pages.
“We used to help him work it.” My chest expands as memories flash through me.
Happy times.
Safe times.
“We rode horses. Drove cattle. Grew vegetables. Everything we needed was on that ranch.”
“Who’s we?”
“My brothers and me,” I whisper, my voice starting to fail. I can’t believe we lost it all. Everything happened so fast. It only took one night, and our utopia was shattered.