Page 11 of Broken Trust
“I’m trying.”
His expression shifts then. Less teasing. More serious. “It’s coming.”
Something settles heavily in my chest at that.
Because Bryce knows—he knows what it costs. The broken bones. The lonely nights. The endless pressure. The addiction to chasing those eight-second highs.
He knows what it means to want it so badly that you’d sacrifice damn near everything for a buckle.
Dinner rolls on around us.
Harleigh discusses her expansion plans for the guest ranch side of the property while Shelby and Charli argue over their training pen schedules.
Matty’s discussing next month’s pasture rotation with Dad as Caison feeds AJ a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
It’s chaos. Wonderful, relaxing chaos.
I lean back slightly and soak it in.
For a long time after Aunt Miriam died, this family operated in survival mode.
Everybody grieving.
Everybody trying to hold the pieces together.
So, we became one family instead of two.
I glance toward Uncle Albert.
His hair’s grayer these days, and his face has more lines, but there’s peace in him now as he looks over his family.
Maybe because the ranch survived. Maybe because all the girls did too. Maybe because despite everything life threw at this family, we’re still sitting around this table together even though everything is changing.
Matty’s married with a baby of her own. Charli and Shelby are engaged. Harleigh has graduated from college, planning the new guest ranch venture, and is dating a big-time hotel owner. The ranch is thriving. Bryce is retiring, and the academy is now open for business.
Royce nudges my boot beneath the table. “You listening?”
“Huh?”
“Cabe asked if we were looking forward to the summer.”
“Sorry. Yeah, it should be fun.”
Dinner stretches late into the evening.
Eventually, we start migrating outside onto the massive wraparound porch while the sky turns black overhead. Crickets and tree frogs sing for us as we enjoy the warm spring night.
Bryce and Albert start debating about breeding lines for bucking bulls.
Shelby and Harleigh are laughing over something on one of their phones.
Caison and Matty say their goodbyes and head out with their sleepy son.
And I sit on the porch railing beside Royce, nursing a beer while I stare out across the dark ranch. My mind is already on next season.
Royce shoulder-bumps me. “You’ll get ’em next year.”
Nobody knows a rider like another rider, especially when that rider is your brother.
