Page 2 of Open Arms

I took a moment just to breathe—to take in the expanse of land that stretched out before me, the way the light played tricks on the tips of the grass, the distant sound of cattle lowing. This was more than a job—it was home, even if the land wasn’t mine. And I’d be damned if I didn’t pour my soul into keeping it running as smooth as butter on warm toast.

“Let’s get to it then,” I said to myself since Gray had walked the path back to his house by the main drive.

I followed in the distance, still going over all the things I needed to get done. Ranchin’ wasn’t easy, but it was our way of life. And besides Abby, it was all I needed.

“Pass the syrup, Daddy?” Abigail chirped from across the rustic wooden table in Gray’s grand but rustic kitchen. Her brown curls bounced with each movement, and her tiny hand hovered over a plate stacked high with fluffy pancakes.

“Comin’ right up, cowgirl,” I said, sliding the bottle towards her with a grin. Watching her attempt to pour syrup with the earnest concentration of a surgeon always tickled me. A little river of sweetness overflowed onto the table, but all I could do was chuckle. This was our time, no rush of ranch work could steal it.

“Like this, Daddy!” She demonstrated, looking up for approval, syrup smudging the corner of her mouth.

“Perfect, Abby. Just like how we practiced.” We’d taken to eatbreakfast here at the ranch together since my days were so long. It was a nice way to spend some time together before she went off to school, and still allowed me to get some early work done.

I wiped her face with a napkin, my heart swelling more than those pancakes at the sight of her smile. She was the spitting image of her mama with those gray eyes, but all the fire and laughter came straight from me.

“Are you gonna eat that last piece of bacon, or is it just for show?” I teased, pointing at the lonely strip on her plate.

“Saving it for Gampa!” she announced with a giggle, her voice sparkling with mischief.

As if summoned by the mention of bacon, the screen door creaked open and in walked Alice and Buck, my folks, their faces wearing the morning sun like a pair of old, comfortable hats.

“Morning, Mase,” Mama greeted, leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Morning, sunshine,” she cooed at Abby, who beamed back.

“Morning,” I replied, already feeling the weight of the day lighten with their presence. Gampa ruffled Abby’s hair, taking his seat with a grunt. “Where’d y’all run off to?”

“Oh, we just took a walk by the river. Beautiful morning for it,” Mama said as she greeted Eryn with a kiss on the cheek.

“Got some news for ya, son,” Dad started, glancing at Mama with a look that spelled ‘serious business.’

“Shoot,” I said, bracing myself. Their expressions didn’t exactly scream ‘found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.’

“Abs, if you’re finished with your pancakes, thank Auntie Eryn and go put your plate in the sink. Then get your shoes on and grab your backpack.”

“Thank you, Auntie Eryn,” she called out in a loud sing-song.

Eryn beamed at her. “Anytime, sweet pea.”

The adults in the room waited for Abby to leave, then Eryn and Gray pretended to busy themselves with something at the stove.

“Well, now. Been meanin’ to talk to ya.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Mama rushed out, probably because of the look on my face.

“Y’all sure are keepin’ me in suspense, here.”

“We’re heading off on a road trip,” Mama revealed, her eyes dancing with unspoken adventure. “A good long one. See the sights we’ve been dreamin’ about.”

“Road trip? How long we talkin’?”

“At least six months. But we’ll see where the road takes us.”

Six months. The words echoed in my head like a stray bullet in an empty barn. My mind raced. They deserved it, no question, but that left me to juggle the ranch and Abby on my own.

“Yep,” Dad confirmed, reaching for the bacon Abby saved for him. “Gonna visit every dang state we can. But don’t you worry, we wouldn’t dream of it if we weren’t sure you could handle things here.”

“I know it’ll be an adjustment, but I think it’ll be good for you. We’ve always been a little too close. Don’t you want to get some living done without us hovering around?” Mama asked.

My throat tightened a bit, heavy with surprise and something else—pride? Concern? Maybe a mix. Here they were, living their golden years by taking care of their granddaughter because their son worked too much. A pang of guilt stabbed me in the stomach.

---