Page 9 of Her Grumpy Cowboy

As I stand back up, I catch sight of Jace and Lindsay smirking at us. They’re not even trying to hide their amusement. Lindsay catches my eye, tilting her head toward Maisey with a grin. “Jace and I will keep an eye on the munchkins. You two enjoy the fire.”

I mouth a “thank you” as they head off in Maisey’s direction, leaving Jasmyn and I alone in the crowd. We find a spot near the fire, the heat warming our faces as we sit close together on one of the log benches. Jasmyn leans into me, her shoulder brushing mine, and it feels so natural, so right.

“So, the bonfire is a big Clayton tradition, huh?” she asks, her eyes reflecting the flickering light.

“Oh yeah, it goes way back. My great-grandpa Jack started it as a way to bring the community together, celebrate a good harvest, that kind of thing. But it’s become so much more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a time for family, for celebrating the good times and supporting each other through the bad. I can’t tell you how many heart-to-hearts I’ve had with my brothers around this fire. It’s where we come to connect, to remember what really matters.”

Jasmyn is quiet for a moment, taking this in. “That’s beautiful. To have a tradition like that, something that ties you all together across generations.”

“Yeah. “I reach out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her soft skin. “I guess it is.”

Jasmyn’s gaze soft as she looks at me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She hesitates for a moment as if choosing her words carefully. “What happened to Maisey’s mom? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The question catches me off guard and I feel a familiar pang in my chest.

I don’t talk about Maisey’s mom much. The hurt of her leaving is still raw even after all this time. But there’s something about Jasmyn that makes me feel like I can open up to her. Like she’ll understand.

“Maisey’s mom left us when she was six months old,” I look out at the fire, watching the embers drift up into the starry sky. “Just packed up her things one day and left. No warning, no explanation. I came home from working the ranch to find Maisey crying in her crib and a note on the kitchen table.”

Jasmyn reaches and touches my arm. “I’m so sorry, Luke. I can’t imagine how devastating that must have been.”

“It’s okay. My family stepped up big time. My parents were still around back then. Between them and my brothers, they rallied around me, helped me keep my head above water. Brought casseroles, changed diapers, took turns rocking Maisey to sleep so I could catch an hour or two of shut-eye. I wouldn’t have made it through without them.”

I pause, lost in the memories for a moment. The countless nights spent pacing the floor with a colicky Maisey. The days where I was so exhausted I could barely see straight. But also the first time she smiled at me. The way her tiny hand would curl around my finger as she drifted off to sleep. The little moments of joy amidst all the chaos.

“Looking back, I realize Sarah wasn’t right for me, for this life. She never really fit in here, never understood what it meant to be part of a community like this. But still, I hate that Maisey’s had to grow up without a mom. That she’ll never know what it’s like to be tucked in by her mom at night, to have someone braid her hair or take her shopping for dresses. I try my best, but I know it’s not the same.”

Jasmyn’s hand finds mine, her fingers intertwining with my calloused ones. “Luke, you’re an amazing father. Anyone can see how much you love Maisey, how devoted you are to her. She’s so lucky to have you.”

Her words wash over me, soothing a part of my soul I didn’t even realize was aching. “Do you really mean that?” I ask, my voice rough with emotion.

“Of course I do,” she says without hesitation. “Luke, you’re one of the most dedicated, loving fathers I’ve ever met. The way you are with Maisey, the way you prioritize her above everything else, the way you’ve created this wonderful life for her here onthe ranch - it’s incredible. She’s thriving, and that’s a testament to you.”

Her words settle into my chest, warming me from the inside out. I’ve spent so long focusing on everything I can’t give Maisey, everything she’s missing out on, that I’ve never really stopped to appreciate what we do have.

“Thank you,” I murmur, squeezing her hand. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

Jasmyn smiles, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it. She takes a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “I understand what it’s like, you know. To be raised by a single father.”

I look at her in surprise. “You do?”

She nods, her gaze drifting to the fire. “My mom died when I was six. Cancer. It was just my dad and me after that.”

“Jasmyn, I’m so sorry,” I say softly, my heart aching for the little girl she once was.

Jasmyn smiles softly at me, her eyes glistening in the firelight. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. And my dad, he was amazing. He did everything he could to make sure I had a good life, that I knew I was loved. Just like you’re doing for Maisey.”

She squeezes my hand, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. “But enough about the past. Tonight is about celebrating the present, right? About being grateful for the good things in our lives.”

Her words wash over me, soothing the ache in my chest. She’s right. We both know what it’s like to experience loss, but we also know the power of resilience, of finding joy in the face of adversity.

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