Page 100 of Rope Me In

Gran smiles at me. “Sit down, boy, the food is getting cold.”

The familiarity of her tone and command has me doing what she says. I remove my hat and place it on a hook on the wall next to Gavin’s then run my hands through my still damp hair while seating myself at the end of the table. Blake is on my left, and Momma and Gran sit across from her to my right.

Blake smiles at me as I try to get comfortable, my gut churning from the warmth of it. We haven’t spoken much since I called her Blakey girl. I did try to bring it up and truly apologize, but every time she was around, Gavin was with her or I couldn’t get the words out. I don’t deserve that smile.

“You look good, Kade,” she says. Her brown eyes look me over from head to toe. “There’s something different about you.”

Thereissomething different—a woman who’s getting ready to play her heart out onstage. A woman I’m dying to get back to even though we just saw each other.

“It’s that long hair of his,” Gran teases.

I comb my hand through my hair again. “It’s not that long,” I say, attempting to keep my tone playful. Before Dad died, he and Gran would tease me about my hair, but I like it longer. And judging by how Presley’s constantly threading her fingers through it when she gets the chance, she likes it, too. I’ll never cut it now.

Blake comes to my defense. “I think it looks good.”

I tip my head in thanks, falling into the sort of ease I felt with her before I fucked it up.

“Let’s eat, then,” Momma says.

After Gran says grace, the food is passed around, and we fall into silence that I wouldn’t exactly call comfortable. As I chew my favorite dinner, I find it doesn’t hit the spot like it used to. I’ve got too much bottled up inside me that needs to come out, but I manage to force the food down.

About three-quarters of the way through my meal, I contemplate saying something. The nerves in my stomach are becoming too much. But at the same time, the prideful and stubborn part of me wants my family to speak first. I look across the table at Gavin, who’s sitting with his eyes on me as he chews a bite of food. We stare at each other for a moment. It’s difficult to get a read on him, because I expected him to look mad. But he looks…nervous?

Normally, he’d rub the back of his neck with his hand, but instead, his jaw ticks, and his eyes look unsure. I bite back a sigh and break eye contact, not wanting to think too much of it. If he wants to say something, I’m sure he’ll say it. He always does when it comes to me, even if he tries to hold back.

“Do you want more?” Gran asks, her eyes on my near-empty plate. “You didn’t take much.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure, baby?” Momma chimes in.

Her motherly tone squeezes like a fist around my heart. Before things went to shit, she liked to tell me I’d always be her baby. The nickname has me reeling as I remember how much I’ve missed her, and a wave of regret sloshes in my core. I’ve been selfish and immature, not trying to make amends with her. I know she’s in pain, too—she lost her husband, for crying out loud. That pain has to be hard to deal with, especially since he left us in a tough spot and lied to her, too. I can see that more clearly now. And I can’t help but wonder: If Presley were given the chance to speak with her mom again, would she?

I swallow down the thickness I feel in my throat and shake my head. “I’m fine, Momma.” My words placate her, and we once again fall into a silence filled only by the sounds of forks scraping on plates and chewing.

I sip my sweet tea, letting the cold, sugary liquid ease my flipping stomach as everyone finishes their food. Once the plates are cleared, I dig my fingers into my thighs, unable to wait any longer, pride be damned.

“Should we talk about the land leases, then?”

That awkward tension in the air pulls tight like a cinch around a horse’s belly. I scan the table to find the four of them staring at each other as if they know something I don’t.

When Gavin’s eyes seek mine, I raise a tentative eyebrow at him. “What’s going on?” I ask.

There’s another pregnant pause before Gavin clears his throat. “We want to talk to you about something, Kade.” His tone is serious. It reminds me of the day he came to find me in the fields to tell me Dad had a heart attack and didn’t make it. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

“You said you wanted to talk to me about the sublease and ideas for the ranch.” Gavin glances at Blake, and I see she looks sad, almost regretful. “What’s going on, Blake?” I ask, taking a different approach. My tone is a half-octave higher than usual.

“Kade,” Gavin interjects. “Wedidinvite you here to talk about that, but we need to speak with you about something else first.”

My jaw flexes, and images of the papers I found on the table two weeks ago appear behind my eyelids. Those papers were nearly complete and only needed a signature from Gavin—I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before.

Those decisions were already made. I know he said they wanted to talk about new ideas, but I thought I’d at least get an apology or some say on the contracts I found.

The dark pit in my stomach I thought was shrinking now expands, and the light surrounding it dims with my newfoundrealization. I was right when I had an inkling this dinner may not be what I thought. I narrow my eyes, the air in my lungs turning to ash and clogging my airway, making my eyes sting.

“What is this dinner really about?” The urge to stand up and walk out is strong, but Blake’s clammy hand on my forearm stops me.

“We do want your input on the subleases and new ideas—that wasn’t a lie, I promise.” She pauses. When her brown eyes bore into mine, I see the sadness that was there the night of my accident. “But as Gavin said, there’s something we’d like to talk to you about first.”

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