Chapter Twenty-Eight

Re-Cast

Garrett

On our way back to Falcon’s Landing, I hold Juliana’s hand as she looks down at her boot cast.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

“It’s pretty fancy,” she jokes.

I squeeze her hand. “I’m not talking about the cast, Juliana.”

“I know.” She nods and looks up at me.

“Well...?”

“Well, as he said, it’s really early.”

“Juliana...”

“He said—”

I pull the truck over to the side of the road. “It’s still positive. You’re pregnant. We’re pregnant. I know shit’s not perfect. And tonight...scary as hell hearing you scream. Brandon heard you scream. But...” I lightly put my hand on her belly, so I don’t fucking hurt her—it.

She puts her hand over mine and nods. “One day at a time.”

I try to remain calm, but I’m not fucking calm. And I’m not about to fuck this up like I did last time.

“I’m so fucking happy; I want you to know that. I’m so fucking happy that by the grace of God we are getting a chance to brand another one.” She nods as she looks down at our hands. “It’s gonna be really busy, really damn busy, but we’re going to do it.” I pause because do it right is on the tip of my tongue, and there isn’t a fucking thing wrong with Brand. “Together.”

She looks up at me and smiles.

“I swear to you, Juliana, I swear on everything that I’m never leaving you again...ever. I was wrong, so fucking wrong when I said we’ve been branded by way too many as nothings. We were never nothing. We were everything. But I was one hundred percent right when I told you brands don’t fucking go away. They stay forever. You, me, Brandon, this baby, we’re forever.”

Still smiling, she nods again.

“I love you,” I tell her as I lean in and kiss her. Then I open up the console and grab the pack of smokes that’s been in there for days. I haven’t needed them.

She looks at me curiously before I toss them out the window.

“No more of that shit.”

She laughs, leaning in for a kiss, and I give her two.

***

I watch her sleep in Brandon’s bed. She’s beautiful, and she’s mine.

I hate what that doctor said; that although she’s technically considered a month pregnant, it’s just shy of two weeks and anything can happen. He told us not to be upset if things don’t work out.

Doubt, that shit is almost as bad as hate, as lies. Doubt can be poisonous to people. After the past few weeks, doubt can kiss my fucking ass.

“She good?”

I look behind me and see Gage. He looks pretty fucked up, and I’m guessing it’s because of what he saw last night.

“She is,” I answer before looking back at her.

“How fucked up is all this?”

“Fucked up. But can’t be anymore. Just can’t.” I look back at him to see he nods. “Fucking dying to shout to the damn world how much she means to me, how much she’s done for me, how much I fucked things up back then,” I tell him. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“All played a hand in it.” He shrugs. “Life’s like that. Never could look deeper because we’d have to dig through all that horrible shit. That’s what my girlfriend, the shrink, says.” He laughs.

“She’s all right, I guess,” I joke.

“She’s fucking everything. All this shit didn’t come out, I’d have never met her. She wasn’t tough as nails and some sort of badass”—he laughs—”I’d have never given her a second chance.”

“Happy for you.” I nod. “Still—”

“Still nothing.” He grips my shoulder. “As Mags says, everything happens—”

“For a reason.” I look down and shake my head. “Keep it under locks if I tell you something?”

He chuckles. “You really have to ask?”

“Juliana is pregnant,” I whisper.

He says nothing, not a thing. Then he smiles. “Jesus Christ, I am—”

“Doctor warned us it’s too early, but I know.” I hit my chest. “I know.”

“I have a newfound hatred for doctors,” he comments, looking in at her.

“No shit. Fucking Hippocratic Oath, my ass.”

He looks down. “Hoping to be in the same boat soon. I wanna get her little ass knocked up.”

“Hope you do, man. Hope we all can fucking live and breed.” I laugh.

“You mean, breathe.”

“The hell I do,” I joke. “Breathing just gets easier when you have more to worry about than you and your shit.”

He nods. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Got a favor to ask.”

He nods again. “Shoot.”

“Wanna take Brand to get a haircut and do a little shopping. I prefer she doesn’t know about the shopping.”

“He’s yours, man. Proved your worth of the name Dad. No need to ask.”

I know as easy as the words fall from his lips that it still hurts.

I tell him the truth, and nothing but. “He’s ours—all of ours. He’s a Falcon.”

***

“What kind of haircuts do cowboys get, Dad?” Brand asks as he climbs up in the barber chair.

“Not sure if there’s a specific cut they get. It’s more about the man’s heart, his drive, the way he is—protective, loyal, sense of humor, good manners, and most importantly, he has to know how to treat his little lady.” I use the voice, and he smiles. “And his family. As far as a haircut...” I look back to make sure the barber hears my instructions. “I know I’m getting the back and sides cut short and keeping the top long enough”—I pause because saying for your mom to yank on is totally true, yet also all sorts of inappropriate—”to keep the sun off it.”

“Can I get the same, too?” he asks, eyes—his mom’s eyes—just fucking shining with excitement.

I lean in and give him a harsh and thorough look over. He straightens in his chair and gives me a stern look back. I want to fucking laugh at how damn adorable he is, but he’s into this shit deep, and more honestly, it’s necessary.

I wish my old man had shown us what the fuck a man is supposed to be. My mom’s balls are bigger. I have always looked up to Gage more in a fucked-up sort of way. That view is no longer tainted by childlike jealousy or insecurity.

“You most definitely can.” I nod.

His face lights up, and he does a little fist pump thing as he whispers, “Yes!”

I sit back as the barber puts the cape over me, and the other does the same to Brandon.

“Dad?”

I look over. “Yeah, Brand?”

“When can I get the horse?”

I laugh, and he smiles. “We need to make damn sure everything is ready for them. Gotta fill those holes, line up the farmers and truckers to deliver hay.” I pause. “Build a hay barn. We have a lot of hard work ahead of us before we start adding to our family.”

“And we have to fix up the house for Mom,” he says as the cape goes over him.

“That’s right; we do.”

He shrugs. “Gage told me that.”

“Man’s wise beyond years. Always someone to look up to.”

“I love him.” He’s testing the waters, seeing how I may react.

“Me, too.”

He smiles then focuses forward.

***

Three hours later, Brand is still grinning from ear-to-ear. I can’t help doing the same. Little man wanted the top a little narrower than I was thinking. He’s sporting a near Mohawk, and he looks like a little badass, missing a front tooth and all.

As we pull up the road, he looks over. “Dad, do I look older?”

“Older than five?” I ask, and he nods, all serious-like. “Sure do.”

“Like ten?” he asks.

No clue why he’s asking, but honestly, he’s tall for a five-year-old, genetically inclined. “At least ten.”

May not be the total truth, but it makes him happy.

“You know, the Steels are all leaving tomorrow,” he says as we get closer.

“Gonna have people in and out of here a lot,” I tell him. “The good ones will come back.”

“Do you think Bell and her family will come back?”

When I look at him, his eyes widen as if he said something he shouldn’t. Now I get it. He has a crush.

“Yeah, Brand, they’ll be back.”

He nods, sits back, and looks relieved.

“You don’t have to help me out tonight if you got plans of your own,” I tell him.

He holds up the two boxes in his hand and looks at them. Then he looks at me. “Dad?”

“Yeah, Brand.”

“Does Mom need two?”

He holds the boxes up. Shit, he wants to give her one.

I stop the truck and put it in reverse.

“Where we going?”

“Can’t give a little girl a gift like that, Brand. You’ll scare her and piss her dad off.” I laugh.

“Why would it scare her?”

Fuck, being a dad isn’t so damn easy after all.

“Well, first, a cowboy needs to wait until he’s, like, my age to ask a question like that. Second, you’re gonna meet a lot of pretty little ladies over the next twenty years.”

“I love her, Dad.” His words are a five-year-old version of fact.

Double shit.

“I get it, but let’s start with a promise type gift, then.”

“What’s that mean?” he asks as I pull back out onto the road.

I think really damn hard and try to pull something out of my ass that makes sense to a five-year-old.

“Cowboys need to plan for things. Like we are doing for the horses. Gotta build the fence first, you know. If not, the horses will get out and wander off. May get hurt and may not ever come back.”

“Like you did when you got sick?” he asks.

Triple shit.

“Kind of.” Fuck, man, redirect, I tell myself. “Forever should be taken in steps. Friendship, that’s the first step.”

“She’s my friend,” he tells me.

“I know, Brand, I know.” I pat his knee. “Now, let’s go make sure she doesn’t forget you, because both of you are going to be busy growing, and although we don’t put women in fences—”

“We put them in houses,” he tacks on.

“Yep, but not until they get older.” I redirect once again.

“Okay.” He nods.