Page 17 of Training the Heart

“It’s our slow time anyhow, we’ve got this.” Mama smiles at me, her eyes doing their crinkly-in-the-corner thing. “Your dad would be very proud of you taking another shot at this. Lots of memories.”

“It’s always been a dream of mine too,” Ivy pipes up. “I’ll try not to let y’all down. I’ll do my best as Sam’s stand-in.”

Ivy’s sitting directly across from me and she looks effortlessly pretty, especially after a couple shots of bourbon. She’s wearing another pair of Levi’s and a long-sleeved hunter green sweater that hangs off her shoulders, which are fucking stunning by the way. Her dark hair is in thick cascades down her back andhalf held up by some sort of a clip contraption that looks like a butterfly.

She must be giving her hundreds of scrunchies the night off. Thin silver earrings that look like strands of tinsel almost reach her shoulders, and maybe it’s the bourbon talking but for an insane second I imagine taking one into my mouth, along with her earlobe, and then sweeping my tongue down her silky, biteable neck.

Fuck. Not cool. Employee. She’s your employee.

I shift in my seat, averting my eyes from Ivy, choosing instead to watch Harley in the corner gnawing on his bone. I like the other view a million times better but at least this one isn’t semi-bricking me up under the table.

“I’m sure you’ll do very well, darlin’. It took Wyatt three seasons and two horses before he placed,” Mama tells her.

“He seems like he was a great man, I wish I could’ve met him,” Ivy says as all of us nod.

“So do we.” CeCe smiles, squeezing her arm beside her. “He would’ve liked you straight away.”

“Everything I’ve heard about him, it seems he was a lot like my dad,” Ivy states.

“Terrible at tile rummy?” Cole asks with a grin.

“Always the one to eat the last cookie and put the box back in the cupboard?” Mama pipes up.

“Terrible at catching fish?” Nash adds while the table chuckles.

The air is too heavy. I don’t talk about my dad too much at once. It’s still too fresh. We all get together as a family still, do all the same things, but it never feels quite right. One of our crew is just gone and we’ll never get that back. Some moments, the weight of that is fucking crushing. I feel the sudden need to drink more, swiping the bourbon off the table and filling my glass.

“Your daddy pass on?” Papa Dean asks her.

She nods. “Yes, when I was fourteen. He had an unexpectedheart attack. He was my very best friend.” She grins as she says it, like a million memories fill her eyes.

“Well, we have that in common, my dad was mine too,” CeCe tells her quietly. Nash squeezes CeCe’s shoulder as she says it. I still can’t believe how quickly he became the doting-husband type.

“What about your mama, is she still on the right side of the dirt?”

Mama drops her fork at Pop’s words.

“Dad. That’s not an acceptable way to ask that.”

“It’s fine.” Ivy chuckles at my no-filter grandfather. “She’s still on the right side of the dirt, sort of. She kind of became the child when my dad died, I became the parent. She drinks more than she should now, I help take care of her.”

“That’s not an easy task. Sorry to hear that. You have any siblings?” Cole asks as he takes a bite of his mashed potatoes.

“One younger sister, Cassie. She doesn’t come around much, but our older neighbor, Mrs. Potter, she checks in on my mama for me every few days and makes sure she gets her groceries. She’s always cared about her. I think she has a soft spot since she knows what it’s like to lose a husband. She’s a widow too.” Ivy shrugs.

Something in her eyes makes me want to reach across the table and grab her hand. I find the will to stop myself.

“What was your dad’s name?” I ask, without thinking or even understanding why. I never ask people personal questions.

“Bill … Billy,” she says back to me softly, shrugging, her violet pools boring into mine.

“A toast.” Pop holds his glass up, cutting the thick air around us. “I always say life is like toilet paper …”

“Jesus Christ,” Cole snickers under his breath.

“You’re either on a roll or you’re taking shit from somebody. Better to be on a roll. To Ivy, for rising above the shit life hasdealt her, to her lost dad Billy, and to Wy.” He taps his glass on the table and we all follow, a smile playing on Ivy’s lips.

“Well, that was maybe the most ridiculous and possibly the sweetest toast I’ve ever heard.” Ivy giggles as she takes a drink.

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