Page 152 of Give Me Redemption

I pull my phone from my pocket, smirking at a video Dalton sent me from work. She’s tossing paper balls into a trash bin like she’s Steph Curry. She makes the shot and throws her hands into the air.

In black dress pants and a red tucked-in blouse, she looks gorgeous, and I’m so glad I’m coming home tonight instead of tomorrow. She doesn’t know that yet, though. I walk up onto the porch, passing by the dogs before I pull open the screen door. I slide my work boots off and pop my neck.

The house is low-lit, a soft glow coming from spaced out lamps. Music plays from the kitchen and I head down the hall, passing by scattered photos of mine and Bryce’s childhood on the walls. I hear Pops chuckle and Emily telling him to stop and behave.

“Coming in,” I say to the lovebirds. Pops has Emily grabbed by the waist and she’s got her hands over his, fake trying to pull him off. He’s smiling at his wife, and she’s blushing. “I’m heading out tonight.”

“Aw, I was hoping we could have coffee in the morning on the porch,” Emily says.

“Rain check,” I tell her. “I’m going to surprise Dalton. I got tickets to a concert she’s been wanting to go to.” I lift my hat from my head before sliding it back down.

“Here, take some of this food out to the guys before you go,” Emily says, smirking at Pops who still hasn’t let her go. “Let me go, old man,” she says. He reluctantly does before leaning back against the counter, popping a toothpick into his mouth.

“I think everything is going well with the new ranch hands,” Pops says to me. “I’ve gotten to know a few of them. They’ve got some tough stories.”

“Yeah,” I agree. One of them was a POW. He’s quiet, so when he does speak, you can’t help but listen. A few of them are snipers who had to make some tough calls.

There’s one who lost his wife in a car wreck while he was overseas. They’re tough boys. Been through a lot and I’m glad I could help them. Maybe this is my redemption for all the stupid shit I’ve done throughout my life.

“I think this is a great thing you’ve done,” Emily says, shutting the fridge with her foot. She walks over to me with a pile of containers filled with leftovers. She kisses me on the cheek. “Be safe and tell Harlow we said hey.”

“Will do,” I reply. “See ya, Pops.”

“Proud of you,” he says. “Be careful.”

I nod, thrown off by his words. I don’t remember the last time I’ve heard that. I haven’t done anything for anyone to be proud of me in a long time.

It feels good. I walk down the hall beside the stairs and push open the screen door with my shoulder. Crickets chirp and an owl hoots from the tree line. I follow the path leading to where the ranch hands stay. There’s a fire going, and they all sit around it. One has a guitar, and the others are sitting back having a beer. “Boys, Emily’s got some food here if you’d like.”

“’Preciate it,” Shawn says, standing up and taking the Tupperware from my hands. Some of the guys are heading out in the morning to go trail riding through the mountains. They’ll camp and become one with nature. Once a week we have a therapist come out and talk to the ones who want to talk, but most of them say the peace and quiet helps more than anything.

None of them have families. It’s sad, but my boys in the Army were family to me, blood or not.

I’m hoping they’ll form some kind of bond and have each other to rely on.

“I’m headed home for the weekend,” I tell Shawn. “I’ll see y’all next week.”

“Safe trip,” he says. I nod and wave to the rest before I turn and head to my truck.

I call Dalton, but she doesn’t answer, so I toss my phone into the cup holder and peel out of the long driveway, windows down, radio up.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Harlow

“That’s ten for me and only six for you,” I tell Monroe as we sit in our desk chairs against the wall.

“You were closer on that last one,” he argues.

“I was not. I’ve been right where you are the whole time.”

Balls of paper are strewn all on the floor from the many times we both missed. It’s been a slow day. I would have gone home already, but Jace is at Grant Ranch so there’s no point.

“Where’s Rana?” I ask Monroe.

“Sister’s bachelorette party.” He rubs a hand through his thick hair.

“Oh. Fun.”

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