Page 61 of Came the Closest
It is, in fact, exactly what it looks like.
He lifts one graying brow. “It’s not?”
“No.” Yes. “I, uh… I kind of, sort of, lost to the Breville—No.” I hold up my hand, palm out. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. This stuff freaking burns.”
Dad only smiles and claps me on the shoulder; a gesture that makes me stand ramrod straight. “My boy, I do believe your brother set you up. There’s a reason that machine is known as Cruella Breville around here.” He moves around me, opens a tall cupboard, and pulls out the plainest black Keurig you could find. “Here’s the one to use if you want a decent cup of coffee that you don’t end up wearing.”
I open my mouth to respond, but I’m still trying to process the last sixty seconds. He pauses in the doorway.
“Oh, and Colton?”
I look at him blankly.
“Welcome to the team.” He dips his chin, taps the doorframe twice, and disappears down the hall.
He doesn’t get far. The peppy receptionist, Caroline, stops him in the hall, and he places a gentle hand on her shoulder. I notice her swollen belly for the first time when he shifts slightly, and my mouth is suddenly dry.
All I can do is stand and stare. My stained shirt presses uncomfortably into my navel, my tie is still flung haphazardly over my shoulder, and behind me, Cruella Breville still sputters ominously. Three big thoughts, among hundreds of tinier ones, vie for my full attention.
Cheyenne had been pregnant, and the realization that she nearly had another man’s child hit me like a freight train when I set my hand on her stomach last week.
My no-nonsense little brother had not only set me up to fail, but also to make me laugh on my first day at a job I’m clueless about.
And my dad, who has never welcomed me onto any team before, squeezed my shoulder.
I swallow hard. Dad gestures another woman over—tall, blonde, wearing a bold blue pantsuit and a sizable diamond ring. He leans down to tell Caroline something and pulls his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket as the tall woman ushers Caroline down the hall. Dad hovers close behind, phone pressed to his ear, shooing curious onlookers back into offices.
This is the man I wanted as my father. The reason for my Dad Box, with the Babe Ruth baseball card and the expired Ovaltine and the engraved family name cuff links. He’s been here, at his own form of the rodeo, so to speak. He knows he’s good at it, and to an extent, he can control it.
His rosin rope and spurs are ties and cuff links. His eight second ride is a new client signing the dotted line. His standing ovation is Forbes naming Del Ray Development as one of the most successful companies in the world. His lonely hotel room at the end of the day is a much larger, much emptier house filled with a lifetime of memories.
But his rodeo isn’t his life anymore, it’s a fragment of it. He helps Graham expand the company, but he also just spends quality time with Graham and Ember. He talks to Jordan openly, and he sets his novel aside to play a game when Jolene asks him to. He’s accepted the daughter he didn’t know he had like he’s known her all her life, and he steals kisses with Hazel when they think no one is watching them.
By comparison—because any sane person would say comparison is the way to life!—I’ve done very little. I’ve agreed to lay low in my profession, become temporary guardian of my half-brother, and become fake engaged to my best friend, yes. But those things were defined for me.
Dad’s changes have required massive effort.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Dragging my focus from the now-empty hall, I pull it out to look at the text.
Cheyenne: *selfie of Milo and Cheyenne sitting on the dock with Indi in the background*
Cheyenne: Good luck from us today! We believe in you!
I rub absently at my chest. I reply with a heart and a sailboat, and I take a deep breath. In for six seconds, out for eight. I blot my shirt with recycled paper napkins, wipe the counter clean, and straighten my shoulders before heading for the conference room.
They say nothing changes if nothing changes. Today, though, I’m going to do it. I don’t know how, and I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it.
But I am going to make changes, and it starts by trying something new. Even if it means wearing a coffee-stained dress shirt in a room of Armani bigwigs, reaching into my pocket to touch my Lucky Rock from Milo, and having drifted so far from my comfort zone that I might never find it again.
Chapter Nineteen
Baby Trees and Arbor Day
Cheyenne
We severely underestimated our capabilities.
The day itself is ideal for paddleboarding—calm water, blue skies, and sticky hot breezes pressing against sweaty skin—but not when one of us struggles to balance, and the other has a child clinging to her.