Page 62 of Bull Riders Don't Swoon

“It’s closer to you? I’d see you more?”

“I wouldn’t be able to see you for the first few weeks, but after that, yeah. Do you want to stay in Kissing Ridge?”

Dad stops trying to hold the tears back and breaks into an ugly cry. “I don’t want to die alone, Griffy. I’m so sorry I’ve done this to you. I want to see you at the rodeo and be there for you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey…stop that.” Reaching over to the toilet paper roll, I tear off a bunch and wipe at his wet cheeks. “Right now, I need to know if you’ll go to rehab. One call, Dad. I have it all ready. I just need you to say yes, and we’ll get started.”

“I want to.”

I know he’s probably only agreeing because he’s scared and feeling like shit as he sobers. But I’m holding on to the promise of his words. If he’s truly sorry, he should do this. I just hope like hell we aren’t too late.

“I’m going to make the call, and then I’ll finish your shave. While we wait for your pickup, I have someone I want you to meet.”

Standing, I grab a towel from the cabinet and drape it over his shoulders. His shaking is escalating, and it’s painful to watch him suffer through this. After taking my phone from my pocket, I dial the contact and speak to Justin.

“Hey Justin. It’s Griff.”

“Hi Griff. Are we a go?”

“He said yes, and he’s already in withdrawal. He passed out for over 24 hours, maybe longer, and hasn’t had a drink since the football game on Tuesday.”

“Okay. We can deal with that. I have a unit on the way already for his pickup. I was confident you’d get him to say yes, and they left thirty minutes ago.”

“So, about an hour until they’re here?”

Justin and I confirm a few details, and after ending the call, I kneel in front of Dad again.

“You’re going to get through this, Dad. Want me to shave the other side, or do you want to start a new trend?”

Dad smiles a little, and it makes me hopeful that better days are ahead.

“I’m n-no trend setter, Griffy. Go ahead and sh-shave it.”

Now that I’ve had the hard conversation, I can concentrate on shaving the rest of his face. I help him get dressed, and when we step out of the bathroom, the aroma of chicken noodle soup greets us.

My dad’s body is so frail it breaks my heart, but together we make it to the tiny kitchen table and find Jamieson’s six-foot-two frame taking up most of his kitchen while he stirs soup on the stove.

My dad immediately sits at the table, and Jamie turns to greet him.

“Mr. Shepard, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He offers my dad a hand and I notice my dad assessing Jamieson. Judging if he’s good enough for his son and while I wish they met under different circumstances, I’m just happy they finally have.

Dad takes the offered hand with a single shake. “Got a name?”

Jamieson blushes and stumbles over his words. “Oh, yeah, so sorry. I’m Jamieson.”

“If he cooks, he’s already a keeper, Griff.”

The first smile I’ve had in my dad’s home in years graces my face. Despite the situation and worrying about my dad, I can’t hide the smile if I tried.

“He’s really not bad,” I say as I kiss him on the cheek and reach for the soup bowls. “Think you can try a bit of soup, dad?”

“I can t-try.”

My dad continues to glance between me and Jamieson and suddenly blurts out, “Do you love my son?”

Jamie places a bowl in front of dad and lowers himself to the chair next to him. “I’ve never loved anyone more. Did you know he saved my life once?”

“I’m not surprised. Griff is the bravest person I know. Is that when he got the stitches in college?”

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