Page 90 of Eight Second Hearts

He drags me down the stairs and opens the passenger door for me. My phone rings again and I hit ignore. He meets my eyes and chucks me on the chin.

“Don’t worry, scribbler. He’s only your dad until one of you forgets,” he says.

And then he closes the door behind me, and I’m left with his words lingering in my mind.

Chapter 49

Ram

“In this barn, we have a tradition,” I begin. “It’s been going on for longer than we’ve all been alive, since Fairview Acres was barely realized.”

I point to the beginning of the wall, showing the old yellow newspapers and the faded photographs.

“It spans the whole wall?” Indie asks, staring with wide eyes at the length of it.

“The whole wall,” Tripp nods. “It started off with just the family?—”

“But after Fred Sr. died, we invited everyone to join,” I add. “It was my mama’s idea. Why not celebrate everyone?”

“Like your very own wall of fame,” Indie breaths, smiling as she traces her fingers across the old photographs.

There is everything on this wall. In the beginning, it starts with newspaper clippings about Tripp’s grandpa, his records he made and the moment he put Steele on the map. Then, when Fairview Acres was truly born, more faded photographs of successful rodeo bulls that were raised on this ranch take over for a few years. There are no photos of Tripp’s grandma here. We were never able to find any photos. So, it jumps from therodeo bulls to Fred Jr.’s own accomplishments at the rodeo, the newspapers slightly less yellow, but still faded. All that there is at the beginning is articles, titles, and rodeo bulls.

Until it changes.

The section of the wall that starts with the three of us really only starts with Tripp. At first, it turns into newspaper articles about the Savage family, about the legacy continuing. There are a few photos of little Tripp on bulls for photos, and then it turns into newspaper articles about a too young Tripp winning at Steele Livestock Show and Rodeo. The photos turn newer, brighter as Beau and I are added into the wall.

Right about the time that Fred Sr. died.

The man shot himself in this barn. In one of the stalls. Tripp had found him, called the cops, and never looked back. There was no grieving. No funeral. We didn’t mourn, not even when we read the note.

I hope you can find a way to forgive me, Tripp. You alone carry our legacy in your veins. It was never mine to live. It was always yours.

Words that held no weight when he treated Tripp like a cash cow. But he was of the mindset that if he asked for forgiveness, he’d make his way to heaven.

People like him don’t deserve that. People like Tripp’s dad. Hell, none of us deserve heaven either. But that’s alright.

There’s a little bit of heaven standin’ right beside us.

“Are these report cards?” Indie laughs, tracing her fingers over the cards.

“That was my mom’s idea,” I laugh. “She thought we should celebrate everything. Even Beau’s straight C’s.”

Beau puffs up with pride. “Hey, it took a lot of work to keep every grade a C, I’ll have you know.”

I grin at him. “You’re right. You were very purposeful in not outshining anyone else. But you make up for it now.”

He looks at me over his pink heart-shaped glasses. “Damn right I do. I’m the one everyone comes to see,” he teases.

I touch my hand to the wall of fame and bump my shoulder against Indie’s. “Everyone who has ever worked or lived on this ranch has added to the wall since we controlled it.” I point to an article. “This is the one talking about Mom’s tamales. She won an award for it at the local rodeo. Even if she wasn’t paid a salary for cooking here, she’d have plenty to live on with how much money her tamales bring in now.” I point to another spot. “This here is when Tripp was inducted into the Rodeo Hall of Fame and when Beau nearly got gored by the same bull he made it with.”

“Good times,” Beau nods, staring at the photo. “That bull was a bastard. Makes sense he’d come from here.”

Indie grins. “I’m glad the bull didn’t get you.”

“That makes two of us,” Beau teases. “Or else I wouldn’t get to kiss you anytime I want.” He kisses her cheek, drawing another giggle from her.

I tug her close and kiss her forehead myself. “I was thinkin’. . .”

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