“I’m angry.”
“What else?”
“That’s it, Gramps. Really fucking angry.”
Gramps shakes his head. “I’ve been alive long enough to know that anger isn’t a primary emotion. It’s secondary. Something else has to come before it.”
I shake my head. I’m not sure what he means.
He continues. “When Janice died, I was mad too. It took me a little while to understand it went deeper than anger. I was afraid, Warner. Scared to live without her. It had been so long since I lived a life that didn’t include her that I didn’t know how to. I was angry that I was forced to live a life I feared living.”
My lips purse and I nod my head.
“Warner, you and I are the only two Haydens who know what it’s like to have a marriage end.”
“Yours had a noble ending, Gramps.”
“And what was yours?” he challenges. “Ignoble?”
“No,” I answer quickly, but think about it and change my answer. “Maybe.”
“Did you fight, Warner? For your marriage? Did you fight?”
My hands steeple under my chin, my elbows propped on my knees, as I think about his questions. There were years of arguments, of me pleading uselessly while I watched Anna slip away into herself and go to a place where she couldn’t be reached. At the time I hadn’t known the battle was really just beginning. And I knew nothing of how it would end.
“I fought hard, Gramps. But in the end…” I look at him and shrug. He watches me, and even though his skin shows his age, his eyes are bright. “I haven’t been honest about Anna. About where she went when she left.”
“I know.”
I stare at him. “How do you know?”
“I put in my time as the operator of this ranch. I know the attention and energy it takes. Now, I sit out here and watch you all live your lives.” He taps the armrest with two fingers. “I knew Anna when she was seventeen and you were taking her to prom. She may not have been a Hayden by blood Warner, but she was family. I took notice when she grew quiet. And when you started claiming she had headaches and couldn’t make the family dinners? I noticed that, too. I never bought your story about her needing to leave you and the kids so she could find herself.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” I’ve been passing off that story for over two years now.
“Figured you’d tell the truth when the time was right.”
I huff out a dry and disbelieving laugh. “Christ, old man. You are beyond words.”
“You lot are so busy running around that you often don’t see what’s in front of you.” He winks. “Lucky for you all, you have me. I have plenty of pearls of wisdom saved up for Wyatt and Jessie, whenever they get around to asking for them.”
I nod but don’t say anything. I’m still absorbing the bombshell that Gramps knew I was passing off a story about Anna this whole time.
Gramps coughs into his fisted hand. “Since we’re airing the secrets you tell your family and yourself, might as well mention Tenley.”
I look at him sharply. “What about Tenley?”
He shrugs. “She seems to bring out strong emotions in you.”
My gaze sweeps down, focusing on the scuffed toe of my boot. “She was the unfortunate recipient of my anger, if that’s what you mean. I had just come from seeing Anna with someone else.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not talking about that day, although in my opinion your mother should’ve whooped your ass for how you treated a guest in her home.”
“You were pretending to be asleep?”
“I woke up at the end.” He swipes the air, like he’s pushing that aside. “I’m talking about all the other times I’ve seen you with her.”
“You mean picking her up here for work after I take the kids to school?”
“That, yes, but also how you’ve made it clear to the cowboys that they are not to look in her direction.”
“I want them to be respectful of her. They’re representing the HCC.” What a crock of shit.
Gramps knows it. He makes a disbelieving sound with his lips.
“Doesn’t matter what kind of emotions she brings out in me, Gramps.” My head shakes, and I push aside thoughts of that incredible kiss a few days ago. Four days, to be exact, but who’s counting? “We’re just friends. The ink is barely dry on my divorce papers.”
Gramps makes the sound again, making it all too clear what he thinks of my protests. “Your marriage was over a long time ago, Warner, and you know it. The only difference is that now the state knows it too.”
I give him a withering look. “Tell it like it is, old man.”
Gramps picks up his iced tea. “I’m too old to beat around the bush. You just remember the only person holding you back is yourself, Warner. When you get to be my age, something like waiting long enough after divorce to start dating again is just shit simple. Don’t give the concept of time so much power over your life.” He sips his tea and wipes a hand across his mouth when he’s finished. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
I nod and stand. Gramps sets the empty glass on the table and places the palms of his hands on the armrests. He stands up without too much difficulty, and I see now that the chair sits taller than the other set we have out here. I’m almost certain Wes did that on purpose, so that Gramps wouldn’t struggle to get up. I’m even more certain Wes didn’t tell him why he bought the chair, because if he had, Gramps would’ve set fire to it.
“It’s time for my nap,” Gramps announces, passing me. He stops at the front door. “Tell Tenley I said hello, Warner. And remember what I said. Time is relative, and if it’s people’s opinions you’re worried about, well…” He shrugs. “Fuck ’em.”
“Thanks, Gramps,” I say, laughing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He goes inside, and I hustle to my truck.
The photo shoot is being held at the abandoned Circle B ranch on the far west side of town. I wouldn’t even call it Sierra Grande, except that it is just barely inside the town’s limits. I know the ranch well, because it was a prime party location in high school. It probably still is.
I park my truck alongside a line of haphazardly parked vehicles. There’s a trailer off to the side, and a row of tents set up nearby. People walk around with purpose. They carry equipment, clipboards, and various items. One person wears something that appears to be an apron around her waist. It seems like a lot of work just to take some pictures. I’m as obviously out of my depth in Tenley’s line of work as she is in mine.
I get closer and a trailer door swings open. A man dressed in jeans, a button-up flannel, and a cowboy hat steps out, followed by Tenley.
A long skirt floats around her ankles and she wears a top that looks a bit like a bra but also like a sort of shirt. It shows most of her stomach. Her blonde hair is big and curled, and there’s more makeup on her face than she usually wears.
“Warner!” Her eyes light up when she spots me, her hand raised in the air. She meets me halfway, the man she walked out of the trailer with in tow.