Marty throws a "summer kickoff" event for your arrival. Friends and neighbours are invited, packing up the barn. Joel doesn't seem too happy, until he gets a few drinks in him.
Chapter 4: Juke Joint (Reader)
AO3 found here
he holds me in his big arms drunk and I am seeing stars this is all I can think of
Juke Joint - Cederic Burnside
Marty warned you to steer clear of the Barn.
You watch ranch hands walk in and out of the building, closing the door before you could even bother to get a glimpse. You repeatedly snuck around the barn, attempting to look in, before getting caught and waved off.
After your fifth attempt at trying to sneak around, you give up, and resort to lounging around on the back porch. Tanya soon enters the barn, Jace and another ranch hand following her.
Tyler steps onto the porch, leaning against the railing as you sit on a cushioned wooden chair.
"Tyler, can you please just tell me what's going on in there?" You plead, your hands coming up to clasp in front of your face in false prayer. Tyler, however, only responded with a shake of his head and a knowing grin.
"Can't do that," he declares, his grin widening as you reach out to swat at him, quickly moving away to avoid his hand.
You stand up from your spot, beginning to corner Tyler, hands still clasped up in front of your face. "Please, please, please! I promise I won't tell..."
Tyler shakes his head, his hands coming up to gently grasp your wrists, pulling you away. "I said no. You know I'm not allowed to." Tyler laughs, before rushing past you.
"But why..?" You whine, reaching out to Tyler.
"Marty's orders!" He chirps out, deliberately shifting around to avoid your grabby hands.
You reach out and attempt to grasp his shirt, but miss. He chuckles as he runs down the steps and onto the lawn, walking down towards the barn.
Tyler glances over his shoulder, grinning wildly. "You'll see tonight!"
With a huff of annoyance, you march off of the porch and into the house.
You walk into the kitchen, finding Joel leaning against the counter, talking with one of the ranch hands. You try to approach, to listen in on their conversation, but Joel must've caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye.
He clears his throat, the ranch hand turning to look back at you, then at Joel. He took the hint, leaving out the door you snuck in from. Approaching him, you offer a friendly, polite smile.
Maybe that'll ease some of the tension between you two.
Joel doesn't reciprocate.
You awkwardly stand there, a few feet away from him, before stepping closer.
"What's going on in the barn?" You question, hoping this man, out of what felt like hundreds of thousands, will finally give you a hint.
Joel just glares at you. He straightens up, cocking his head to the side. "If you were supposed to know, you'd know already."
You return his glare, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, but-"
"It's just a party, of sorts." Joel responds, giving you the answer you were looking for.
Your ears perk up at that. The idea of a party, some real socialization, sounds truly appealing.
He clearly took notice at the shift in your demeanour, a small grin appearing on his face. "It's nothing like your Florida parties," Joel proclaims, pushing himself off of the counter, crossing his arms.
"I know, but a party is a party," you respond, moving to walk past him.
His hand shot out, gripping your forearm as he tugged you back in front of him. "You 'gon behave, girl?"
"Obviously." You shot back, taking your arm back from his grip.
Joel was about to speak again before he was interrupted by Marty entering through the back door. The two of you quickly stepped away from each other, attempting to maintain some decency.
Marty, however, didn't catch onto the tension between you two. Instead, he placed his hands on his hips, letting out a dramatic groan as he stretched his back. Walking over to the two of you, he slaps a hand onto Joel's back.
Your grandfather begins to pester Joel. "You didn't tell her, did you?" He jokes, unknowing that is in fact what just happened before he entered the kitchen.
You momentarily stall, glancing over towards Joel. He doesn't falter, however.
Joel chuckles in response to Marty's quiet accusation. "'Course not."
Marty pats Joel's back once again, before turning back to the screen door. "Tanya needs you." He spoke over his shoulder, pushing his way through the screen door. Joel follows behind, without offering you any sense of a goodbye.
Further in the day, you were finally able to catch glimpses of the inside of the barn. It was completely cleaned out, some tables pushed against the side of the walls, along with an elevated floor opposite of the entry.
The afternoon came and went, the cool air of the evening drifting in now. Tyler and you sat on the back porch once again, and you continue to pester him for more in-depth information, compared to what Joel had offered you.
"So," You began, clearing your throat. "Why the barn?"
"What about the barn?"
"Why is... whatever's happening in there," Not too obvious now. "Happening in the barn? What about the animals?"
Tyler stares at you, dumbfounded, before bursting out into laughter. "No, no. That barn's used for storage," he spoke, barely able to get the words out over the hiccups of his boisterous laughter. "Not animals. It's too small, so it's used for events."
You nod, glancing down. Tyler was still laughing, hand holding his chest.
"It wasn't that funny." You grimace, eyebrows pursing together.
Tyler caught his breath for a few moments, before shaking his head, a noticeably-stupid grin still on his face. "Yeah, I know it's not funny, but you're funny."
You give him a confused look.
He sighs, sitting forward.
"Just... your ignorance. Towards... this." His hand raises, gesturing out towards the large span of open fields, and the mountains framing them.
You couldn't argue with him on that. As much as you tried to fit in here, you were still the outsider. The newcomer, just here experiencing three months of to some, is their entire life. What they work for, what they strive for.
Turning your head to Tyler, you speak. "Anything I should particularly wear tonight?"
Tyler looks over at you and grins.
The sun began to set, marking the beginning of the party. Glancing out your window, you saw small groups of people begin to make their way up to the lit-up barn.
You sat at the vanity, doing your makeup. You opted for a simple look - finishing your makeup rather quickly. You look pretty. You are pretty.
Standing from the vanity, you walk over to the stand-up wardrobe sitting in the corner of the room. Tyler suggested a dress - and he was the best bit of fashion advice you could get in a place like this.
You pull out a white, simple cotton dress. Sliding it over your shoulders, mindful of your makeup, you let the straps rest on your shoulders as you reach behind and fiddle around with the small strings at the back, attempting to tie it up.
In the midst of your struggles, you heard a knock coming from the door. A sigh of relief leaves you.
"Come in!" You call out, walking over to the vanity mirror, attempting to use the reflection to help you tie the strings.
Instead, you see Joel peek his head in from the mirror. You quickly turn around, your previous actions momentarily forgotten.
The two of you stare at each other, wide-eyed for a moment, before Joel clears his throat. He steps further into the room, closing the door behind him.
"Marty wanted me to tell you to come down soon." He says, his tone noticeably losing its confident as he quickly peels his gaze away from you.
You jerk your head. "I'll be down in just a few."
Joel clears his throat, beginning to close the door. You quickly step forwards. "Can you actually help me with something?"
He hesitates, his grip on the door tightening before he widens it to slip back into your room.
You turn around, your back facing him, waiting for a few moments. When there was no movement, you look over your shoulder, catching him standing awkwardly next to the door, his fingers drumming against his thigh.
"The strings," You begin, his gaze turning to you. "can you tie them?"
He lets out a small "ah" before walking up behind you, grabbing the small strings hanging off your dress. He ties them into a small bow, before stepping back. You turn around to face him, and his gaze lingers on your face, before quickly glancing away.
"A few minutes." He repeats your words from earlier, before quickly heading towards the bedroom door, leaving without a second look.
You kneel slightly to look down back into the vanity mirror, making the quick decision to braid your hair.
There.
When you left the room, a few strands of hair had already left your plait.
Marty and Joel were standing in the kitchen, nursing some beers. They both look over as you enter.
You glance between the men, but your gaze lingers on Joel for a little longer than necessary. He was wearing probably the cleanest pair of jeans he owns, paired with a light-blue button-up and a dark tan western-styled jacket.
"She decides to join!" Marty announces, a beaming grin on his face as he pushes himself off the counter, outstretching his arm to hand you a beer.
You take it, returning the smile. Taking a sip, you grimace slightly at the taste. They were fine in the beginning of the trip, but you were never much of a beer enjoyer.
"Do we have anything else besides Busch light?" you pout, and the two men just snicker.
Marty nods enthusiastically, grabbing another beer can as he begins to walk towards the kitchen screen door. You and Joel follow behind.
"'Course!" The old man calls out from over his shoulder. "That's just for later in the night."
The three of you walk onto the back lawn, towards the lit up barn. The sun was nearly set by now, painting the sky with dark hues of purple and pinks. Marty meets up with a group of older gentlemen halfway to the barn, but you and Joel continue walking.
Joel kept his gaze on you, nearly the entire way there, and didn't bother hiding it. Before the two of you walked through the two large barn doors, he pauses, reaching out to gently grasp your arm.
"You look pretty tonight." He murmurs appreciatively, keeping his gaze on the ground.
A small, genuine smile appears on your face. Nothing like the ones you've done to seem polite. "Thank you, Joel," you say, reaching out to place a hand on his forearm, but he takes a small step away.
The smile falls slightly, and disappointment begins to fill your senses. Joel just offers a curt nod, still not meeting your gaze, before he steps past you and disappears into the barn.
You attempt to follow, but Marty disrupts, calling you over. You turn and begin to walk towards your grandfather and the group of men he was standing with.
The men welcome you with handshakes and smiles that show nearly all of their pearlescent teeth. These weren't farmers... Their clothes were too clean and postures were too straight. Investors, maybe?
Marty introduces them, and they all offer positive greetings. They hound you with questions about home, about the ranch. About your mother. You answer as politely as you possibly could, but the questions persisted.
A familiar voice calls out to you.
Tyler.
Thank God he found you when he did. With a valid excuse to leave, you offer the men a quick goodbye, before venturing off to meet your friend.
When you catch up with him, you see him standing with another boy around his age.
Great. More introductions.
Tyler and the boy meet you halfway. Only this time, the conversation seemed more easy-going. Tyler leaned in slightly towards the man, their hands occasionally brushing each other. You eye them with a knowing smile.
When the boy excuses himself, you move to stand next to Tyler, elbowing him as you finally make your way into the barn. "He's cute." You mention, watching Tyler's reaction from the corner of your eye as blush begins to bloom on his cheeks.
He doesn't answer.
"Do you like him?" You question, now doing the probing for answers.
Tyler scoffs and gives you a playful push. "No! Course... Course not." He mumbles, shrugging his shoulders.
"It's okay, you know." You reassure, and Tyler lets out an incoherent murmur of inconclusiveness.
Walking into the barn, you immediately take notice of the string lights hung up in the clerestory. There was a live band playing on the raised platform, the music matching in with the conversation of the crowd.
Tyler led you towards one of the tables pushed against the wall, grabbing a beer for himself, then turning to you, holding up an unopened can. You shake your head, still working on the beer Marty gave you earlier.
Soon enough, the barn was packed. You stuck with Tyler, and the boy, whose name you learned is Samuel. As the drinks continued, it became clear that you were third wheeling - so you decide to venture off and introduce yourself to some of the partygoers.
As you leave Tyler, a hand grabs your forearm. Tanya, as drunk as can be, was squealing about how excited she was to finally be able to plan an event like this. You entertain her, deciding to drink one of the heavily boozed-up drinks she handed you.
Taking one sip, and the warmth immediately fills your mouth, and you could feel it reach all the way down to your stomach.
"What's in this?" You say, raising your voice slightly over the rouse of the crowd.
Tanya reaches out, plucking the plastic cup from your hand, taking a sip. She smacks her lips, thinking for a moment, before handing the drink back to you.
"sweet tea... Vodka, white rum, fruit..." She began to list off ingredients, and your eyebrows would raise with each one mentioned.
Tanya laughs at your reaction, reaching over to pour herself, what you assume, yet another cup.
Before the ladle could hit the plastic cup, Marty swoops in behind Tanya, gently placing his hands on the back of her elbows. He leads her away from the drink table, boasting about wanting to dance.
And once again, you were left alone.
The crowd begins to slightly quiet down as the people on the platform began to introduce themselves. Peoples attention turn to the stage, and they watch as the performers begin their set.
Eventually, the middle of the barn turns into a rowdy tumble of drunken bodies dancing around. You watch in amusement, now nursing your... third drink? As Tanya and Marty holler as he leads them around.
You watch from the sidelines.
As the song comes to an end, and people clap, Marty spots you in the crowd.
It's clear he's drunk, too. He comes over, his face flushed and nearly out of breath with that one dance.
He grins as he holds out his hand for you to take. You do, abandoning your drink on the table. He leads you to the floor, grabbing one of your hands, while placing the other on your shoulder blade.
As the music begins, your grandfather begins to twirl and lead you along with the boisterous beat, giggles of drunken amusement leaving the two of you. The two of you twirl and dance as the music continues. Once it ends, Marty gives you an overdramatic bow, opting out of the next dance to catch his breath.
You return to the table where you left your drink, only to see Joel standing there, holding it in one hand, while holding his own in the other.
He was leaning against the table, and as you approach, you watch the gears turn in his head as he comes up with a conversation starter. Joel straightens up, holding your drink out towards you.
His mind fails him. With no witty response or snark approach, he instead spoke the words you would've never expected.
"Would you like to dance?"
You pretended to think about it for a moment, taking silent joy in watching him get antsy at the seconds that pass without an answer.
Then you nod. A small exhale of relief leaves Joel as he set the drinks down onto the table.
Joel steps forwards - and instead of walking past like he usually does, he gently grabs ahold of your forearm, tugging you with hidden excitement towards the middle of the barn. Another song starts up.
He places his hand on your waist, giving you a small smile as your gaze met his.
You tried to think of something to say, but he beat you to it.
"I meant it," he began, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. "When I said you look pretty tonight."
You felt a blush creep up your neck and onto your cheeks.
"Thank you."
He leans in, his lips hovering against the side of your ear. The music began, and he lead you through the movements.
"I like your hair like that." He offers another compliment, and a small nervous laugh escapes you.
You lean in, resting your forehead against his shoulder.
"I like this jacket on you."
A huff of amusement left Joel. He continues to lead your movements, hand not-so-subtly trailing lower.
His fingers barely skim your rear.
The music picks up, and he drunkenly twirls you around, eliciting an excited squeal from you. Your grip on his shoulder tightens as the two of you swing through the dancing crowd. Joel chuckles quietly, keeping his gaze on you as he leads you through the movements.
As the song comes to an end, Joel separates from you - but not entirely. He grabs your hand, leading you over towards the drink table. There stood Tyler, with Samuel. They hollered teasingly as the two of you came over, Joel dropping your hand immediately after he spots them.
Turning your head to look at Joel, you immediately notice the flicker of embarrassment.
The two of you separate from each other, now standing slightly apart awkwardly.
Tyler hands you a cup smelling strongly of booze. One whiff and a scowl appears on your face.
"Drink it!" He exclaims, grinning as he got himself a cup.
Just as Tyler was about to bring the cup up to his lips, Samuel reaches upwards, taking it away.
They begin to bicker over the drink, but you quickly chug it. Tyler turns his attention to you, hands quickly coming up to run through his hair.
Instead of giving a lecture, the two boys just laugh loudly, handing you another drink. You look around for Joel, but he had seemingly disappeared. You decide to move along with the night. If Joel wants to sulk in his own feelings of embarrassment, who are you to stop him? To chase him down?
The night continues, and so does the dancing. Tyler and Samuel drag you to the floor, the three of you dancing around in circles as if you were children. Drunken giggles leave the three of you, the music picking up.
Eventually, Marty ends up pulling you away from the ruckus. You were stumbling, barely able to stand. He places his hands on your shoulder, giving them a gentle pat.
"Think... Think it's time for bed, Bug." He says, giving your shoulder a final slap before you feel a gentle tug of your arm.
Turning your head, you spot Joel, his eyes sunken in and movements unconfident.
Marty gives you a dismissive wave, before being pulled away by an even-drunker Tanya.
"I'll be... I'll be there soon, kid!" He calls out, before disappearing into the crowd.
You turn to Joel with an unimpressed look, his hand trailing up your arm to grasp the back of your neck as he leads you out of the barn.
You whine and fight, wanting to go back to the party. He ignores your pleas, leading you towards the house.
Eventually, you break free of his grasp, turning around to face him.
"You... you left me," a hand comes to push against his shoulder, the blow weak. Joel doesn't even stumble back. "You just disappeared."
"You need to get to bed." Joel quietly says, taking a step forwards, reaching out. He completely ignored your statement.
"I don't want to go to bed," You began, stumbling around, barely able to hold yourself up. "I want to know why you left me."
Joel sighs, a hand coming up, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Doesn't matter."
It was late. And cold, and you could barely stand. You knew you were in no position to argue with him.
"Now come on, let's get you to bed," Joel softly murmurs, glancing over towards the house.
You turn around with a groan of displeasure, before slowly stumbling in the direction he glanced at. A few steps in, and you nearly trip and fall to the ground. Joel let out a hiss at the movement, rushing to your side.
"You can't handle your alcohol, girl?" Joel grumbles disapprovingly. He helps you to your feet, but instead of letting you walk to rest of the way, he picks you up and starts carrying you bridal-style the remainder of the way.
You complain and squirm, but as usual, he ignores.
Joel walks up the steps of the back porch, still holding you. You're no longer fighting him. Your head lolls to the side, and you swore you saw Joel smirking down at you.
He still doesn't put you down, though, not until he walks up the stairs to the second story, and into your bedroom. Joel gently places you down on the ground, helping you sit down on the edge of the bed.
"How much did you have to drink?" He questions, kneeling down, gentle grabbing ahold of your ankle to take off your shoe.
In response, you shrug, and he looks up. A scoff leaves him as he removes the second shoe, lining them up beside your bed.
Joel stands up with a groan, placing his hands on his hips as he looks down at you. Your gaze follows, but you didn't bother hiding the way your gaze flickers to his crotch, which was almost indirectly lined up with your face.
He was close. So, so close. You just need to reach out and take off his belt -
"Hey." He says calmly, diverting your attention back up.
The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before he shook his head, stepping back.
"Come on, let's get you ready for bed." Joel spoke, watching you struggle to stand up, before he wraps an arm around your torso.
He practically drags you to the washroom across the hall, plopping you onto the closed toilet seat. Turning to the small bathroom vanity, he glances around your array of products, momentarily at a loss for where to start.
Joel grabs an empty cup and turns the tap on, filling it with some water. He then turns to you, holding it to your lips, cupping his free hand under your chin. You only glare at him.
"I can take care'f myself." You mumble, and Joel only scoffs.
"No, you can't. Now drink," He says leaving no room for argument. You open your mouth slightly, allowing him to help you drink the water.
After a few sips, Joel pulls away, placing the cup on the vanity. He then grabs your toothbrush, running it under some water and adding a glob of toothpaste, beginning to brush your teeth. Once that was done, he grabs a hand towel, running it under water, beginning to wipe away the sweat on your face from the lively night.
He continues to take care of you, and you look at him with utter devotion throughout the entire process.
Joel, however, could barely meet your gaze. On the off-chance he did, he quickly looked away. Once he was done cleaning you up, he picked you back up, leading you to your bedroom.
"You gon' sleep in that?" He questions quietly, plopping you back down on the bed.
He could tell you were exhausted now. You shrug sluggishly, and he only respond with a nod, encouraging you to lay down in the bed.
"Get some sleep." Joel mumbles, tucking you in. He began to get up to leave but you call out for him. He turns around, and you offer a sweet smile, tucked in comfortably.
"Thank you." You softly say, and he looks away to hide the small grin growing on his face.
Without saying another word, he moves towards the door, leaving you to your lonesome, once again.
i do not “delete sentences” when they start “hindering the plot” i COPY PASTE THEM into a SEPARATE DOC made just for keeping all my USELESS LINES that i will also NEVER USE so therefore i should JUST DELETE THEM but i DONT because id FEEL BAD if i did
Joel recalls his life before the ranch, beginning of his time at the ranch, and the days leading up to your arrival.
Chapter 3: Copperhead Road (Joel)
AO3 found here
warning: child death
sorry for long Sarah segment I think its important for Joels character (and later on)
this chapter took so long (a few hours, haha) but I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it:) can you tell I kinda gave up in the end?)
Copperhead Road - Steve Earle
The hospital lights were blinding.
Joel sat in a hospital waiting room, the stench of disinfectant filling his nose. The air was heavy and stale, making Joel's lungs feel heavy.
He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together.
Joel must've been there for hours. Days, maybe?
He didn't remember the last time he'd changed his clothes, or showered.
His gaze stayed on the ground, as he saw shoes enter his vision. Joel refused to raise his head. No, if he raised his head, then it meant getting news about his daughter. It meant getting an estimate of when she'd...
Despite the hesitation, another thought came across Joel's mind.
What if there was a possibility Sarah could survive? What if, in some way, the doctor came to inform him that Sarah, his little girl, is waiting patiently in her room to be discharged?That she could go home tonight? That they could forget that the cancer ever existed?
If his little girl got out of the hospital, he'd watch every Dawn of the Wolf, go to every birthday party, spend a fortune on soccer gear...
His breath began to come in violent gasps. All he wanted was for his little girl to get better. So, hesitantly raising his head, he was met with a doctor holding a clipboard.
"Sarah?" Joel spoke wide-eyed, his tone grasping desperation. His hands stayed clasped in front of his face, nervously biting the inside of the cheek as he awaited the doctor's answer.
The doctor swallows nervously, before moving to sit beside Joel.
Joel's ass ached. His back ached. His entire body ached, sitting in this dingy chair without moving for hours.
"Your daughter," the doctor began, turning the clipboard towards Joel, as if he could decipher the information written on it. "Her cancer cannot be completely eradicated. At this stage, we'd recommend..." but the doctor's words were cut out. Joel wasn't listening anymore. How could he? He was being told that Sarah wouldn't be able to...
Joel was violently shaking his head, running his hands over his face. "No, no..." he repeats, pleading to the doctor. "Please, please. You need to save her. Anything. I'll... I'll take out a loan." At this point, he was rambling, attempting to find a solution. "Is this about medical bills? I can pay for treatment, I'll find a way..."
The doctor attempted to explain further, but any words that were being spoken to him did not fully reach his ears.
"Please, let me see her. I need to see my daughter." Joel begged, standing up from his spot.
The doctor hesitated, before nodding. He led Joel out of the waiting room and down a hallway, the walls filled with cartoonish drawings. He was led to a door, and Joel didn't hesitate pushing through it.
He wasn't allowed to initially visit his daughter - but now he understood why. The sight nearly broke him.
Sarah was laying on the bed, her skin holding a yellowish tint and purple bruising covering her arms. Joel felt a sob rip through him. He quickly rushed to his daughter's bedside, a hand landing on her forehead, gently brushing away the hair from her forehead.
"Oh, baby girl..." Joel softly spoke, the grief completely evident on his face as Sarah turned her head to look at him.
"Daddy?" The girl quietly croaked out, causing a sharp exhale to leave Joel.
"Sarah, Sarah I'm so sorry, baby girl, I'm so sorry..." He mumbled, bowing his head to rest against his daughter's skinny shoulder.
He raised his head from Sarah's shoulder to look at his daughter. Her eyes were glazed over and sunken in, but still had a warmth to them. Using nearly all of her energy, the corner of her lips lifted upwards into a weak smile.
Joel attempted to return the smile, but it drops as quickly as it came. He continued to softly brush Sarah's baby hairs away from her forehead.
Sarah attempted to speak, but the words came out as weak whispers. Joel shook his head, pausing, brushing her forehead for a moment. "Shh, shh, Sarah. Baby, it's okay. You don't need to speak."
She nodded her head slowly at that, sinking further into the hospital bed, keeping a weak gaze on her father.
"I tried," Joel gulped, tears stinging his eyes. He didn't want his daughter to see him like this, so he quickly dropped his head. "I tried so hard, baby. I was in the waiting room..."
He trails off, knowing there was no excuse for not being able to see his daughter.
As time went on, Joel spoke softly to Sarah, continuing to gently brush her hair.
"I promise, when we leave this place, I'll watch all the 'dawn of the wolf' films with you." He spoke, seeing Sarah's eyes brighten.
Sarah attempted to speak, but the words came out in airy exhaled. Instead, she used the rest of her strength to give a weak, lopsided-grin, the excitement, even in her state, radiating.
Joel nodded enthusiastically. "Yup. A full movie night."
Sarah let out a hum of excitement.
Joel offered a small smile, happy that he was able to get his daughter's mind off of her illness.
"Get some rest, Sarah. I'll be here." He sat there on the ragged old chair beside his daughter's hospital bed, until he watched her droopy eyelids fall.
Eventually Joel got up from his spot, leaving the hospital room to seek a doctor. A doctor - any doctor.
It didn't take long until he found one. He stormed up to the older blond man, fists bundled at his side.
"Do you know my daughter? Sarah Miller?" Joel spoke, pointing over his shoulder at Sarah's hospital room.
The doctor nods, crossing his arms. "Yeah, the Miller girl-"
Joel's fist returns back to his side. "I've been refused multiple times when I've asked to see her," He spoke, stepping closer. "My daughter's been dying, and all the time I could've spent with her, I've been denied."
The doctor took a step back, beginning to raise his hands. "I understand the frustration, sir, but your daughter-"
"My daughter is dying!" Joel barked, his voice echoing down the sterile hall. A few nurses' glanced up from their station, before looking back at their computer screens.
He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.
"You kept me out of that room," Joel began, his voice breaking. "You told me to wait. You told me there were procedures, tests, schedules-" he gasps in a gulp of air. "But she's..."
Joel couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't bring himself to come to the fact that Sarah, his little girl, is dying, and he can do absolutely nothing about it.
The doctor's expression softened slightly, and his hands dropped to his side.
"Mr. Miller," he began, keeping his voice low. "Your daughter has been placed in palliative care. We thought it would be easier for her to adjust without her father pres-"
Joel quickly cut him off. "Palliative?"
The doctor nodded, offering a small, half-assed smile of pity. "It means we're keeping her comfortable," the doctor explains gently. "Her body is unable to tolerate the cancer treatments. Continuing would only cause more pain,"
Joel stared at him, unmoving, before responding.
"Where was I when this conversation took place?" He spat out.
"The doctors decided-"
Joel shook his head. "Where was I?" The doctor sighed, shoulders tensing up slightly. "As I mentioned, we're keeping Sarah comfortable. It's the best possible solution during this point in her life..."
Comfortable. They're keeping Sarah comfortable as she dies. Joel's jaw tightens, his gaze drifting down the hallway towards Sarah's room.
"She's twelve," He began, whipping his gaze back to the doctor. "Twelve years old."
The doctor said nothing.
Joel's chest heaved as he struggled to breathe through the tightness of his lungs.
"You didn't think, at any point, that she wouldn't want to see me? My daughter..."
The doctor didn't respond. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, the doctor sighed.
"You should go back to her," he said softly. "Spend as much time as you can."
It took everything in Joel not to punch the doctor then and there. Instead, he nodded slowly, before turning to walk back to his daughter's room.
He sat back down on the chair, watching his daughter rest. Joel was eventually lulled to sleep by the hum of the machines around his daughter.
Joel was woken up by weak sun rays making their way through the blinds. Sarah was still sleeping.
After a few minutes, he heard the door open without a knock. Quickly turning around, he saw Tommy entering, carrying a coffee tray.
He clears his throat, moving to stand beside Joel. "How're ya doing?" Tommy asked, placing a reassuring hand on Joel's shoulder.
Joel turned his gaze back to Sarah. "How do you think I'm doing?"
Tommy was silent at that. He didn't respond, but instead took his hand off Joel's shoulder, grasping one of the coffees. He hands it to Joel.
"Came by to see you. Doc told me you were in here." Tommy explained, but Joel shook his head. He didn't want an explanation. He didn't care for an explanation.
Tommy watched his brother for a moment longer. "How's she doing?" He quietly questioned, giving a worried glance to his sleeping niece.
Joel was silent for a long moment. He placed the coffee cup down on the ground beside the chair, before burying his face in his hands.
"Dying."
When Sarah woke up, she was greeted by her uncle and father, both attempting to hide their pitiful expressions.
Joel took a moment to realize his daughter was awake. He straightened up in his chair, his hand returning to her forehead.
"Hey, baby, how're you feeling?" He spoke softly, but he didn't get a response.
Joel took that as an answer.
Tommy and Joel set up a chair on either side of Sarah's bed. The three decided on a movie to watch for the day. Joel and Tommy would bicker over what one to pick, offering Sarah a sense of home, even in her state.
After every suggestion, they'd glance over at the girl, waiting for a weak nod or shake of the head. Eventually, after a few suggestions, Joel thought of one that he knew Sarah would agree to.
"Dawn of the wolf?" He suggested with a sly smile, and the girl's ears perked up. Tommy was about to refuse, but Joel gave him a harsh glance, and he shut his mouth.
After finally coming to an agreement, the two men settled back down in their seats after putting the DVD into the player.
Joel glanced over at Sarah a few times during the movie. At some point, the two of them must've fallen asleep, leaving Tommy.
He sat up, walking around the foot of the hospital bed, gently shaking Joel's shoulder.
Joel woke up with a groggy gasp, eyes widening, then relaxing after Tommy's face came into view.
"M' gonna head out. You good to stay here on yer own?" Tommy questions, straightening up.
Joel nodded, letting out a mumbled goodbye.
A few hours after Tommy left, the nurses came by to drop off dinner. Joel sat back down beside Sarah, who was now half-awake.
"mashed potatoes or peas?" Joel questions, grimacing down at the hospital food. Sarah responded with a weak chuckle, which turns into a coughing fit.
He quickly stood up, placing the food onto the side table, reaching over to Sarah. He placed a hand onto her back, gently rubbing it. "You're alright, it's okay. Just breathe."
Sarah stayed hunched over for a long moment, before moving to lay back on her bed. Joel's hand slid up her back to rest on her shoulder.
Instead of speaking, he reached over to grab the small tray of food, scooping up a small forkful of mashed potatoes, and bringing it up to Sarah's lips. She didn't open her mouth to accept the forkful.
"Come on, baby, you need to eat." Joel softly encouraged, and Sarah finally opens her mouth, accepting the food.
He fed her slowly. When he was finished, he softly lulled her back to sleep, before finishing her scraps.
Joel spent another night sleeping in the uncomfortable chair beside his daughter's hospital bed.
In the morning, instead of being woken up by Tommy busting into the room again, he was woken up by soft knocking. Quickly turning around, he found a wide-eyed nurse, dropping off what he presumed to be breakfast.
The nurse gave him a polite smile, handing out a bowl of oatmeal and a plain bagel.
Joel glared down at the distasteful food as the nurse left. Turning back to Sarah, he caught her looking down at the breakfast with a similar grimace on her face.
A small chuckle left him. "This the breakfast that they been feeding you?" He spoke, shaking his head.
Sarah doesn't respond.
Joel stood up from his spot, placing the beige food onto the night stand. "I'll go get us something. Think I saw a bakery just down the street."
He was hesitant even thinking about it, but if Sarah was going to pass, he wanted her to at least enjoy herself. Even if that meant spending a fortune on breakfast.
She watched him as he walked around the room, collecting his jacket and keys. "I'll be right back, okay baby?"
Joel came to stand at her side, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead.
As he leaned away and began to walk to the door, Sarah weakly spoke. "I love you." She calls out, and Joel quickly turns around.
"I love you too, baby. I won't be too long, alright?" He gave her a nod of confirmation, to which she attempted to mirror dully.
Joel left the room for the first time in two days, and he left the hospital the first time in nearly a week. As he sat in his truck, his head came to rest on the wheel as a groan left him.
Tears began to escape.
He knew what was coming, knew the inevitable would soon arrive. Knew that in Sarah's condition, there was no surviving.
Silent tears soon turn to sobs, and he leans back, repeatedly hitting the wheel. He was angry - angry at himself, fucking raging at the doctors for not allowing him to see Sarah, and, selfishly enough, angry at Sarah.
Sarah isn't meant to die. Not for a long time. She's meant to live out her life.
Joel was hysterically sobbing now. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, underneath his brow, attempting to console himself. He eventually calms down enough to start the car, pull out of the parking lot, and drive down to the bakery.
Thirty minutes - thirty minutes is the max amount of time he'll be gone. Then he can return to Sarah, and they could eat their fancy food while they finish the rest of the movie.
He drove down the road to the bakery, parking his truck hazardously between two lines as he ran inside. There, he began to pick whatever he felt Sarah would like. Soon, he had an entire bag of assortments such as croissants, tarts, pastries, all with names he couldn't pronounce... and a hefty price tag. The bakery was selling a small bundle of flowers, too. He knew Sarah would like them.
Joel jumped back into the truck, racing to return to the hospital. He drove into the parking lot, quickly abandoning his truck as soon as he put it in park.
He practically skipped to the front of the hospital, his steps all giddy and excited as he imagined Sarah's expression as he brought all of these things to her.
His foot nervously tapped the elevator floor as he got in, pressing the button to Sarah's floor. When the elevator doors dragged open, however, he saw a small cluster of doctors rushing down the hall.
Joel didn't want to accept it. He prayed silently that the doctors would run past Sarah's room, but they didn't.
His brain was too far behind. His feet carried him to Sarah's room, pushing through the throng of doctors standing in the doorway.
He stopped. There, Sarah was laying on the bed, eyes glazed over and the monitor beside the bed humming softly. One of the doctors attempted to speak to Joel, but the words weren't coming through.
Joel quickly ran to his daughter's bedside, the pastries and flowers dropped and forgotten.
He sobbed, stroking his daughter's forehead, attempting to wake her up. He didn't want to come to terms with the fact that... that she...
Joel pleaded. Pleaded with Sarah, with God, with the doctors. Pleaded that someone do something, but the doctors just gave him that stupid look of pity they've been giving him for weeks, before turning around and leaving the room.
One doctor stayed behind. He cleared his throat, placing a hand on Joel's shoulder to gently ease him away from Sarah's corpse.
Joel's shoulder rolled, a quiet plea for the doctor to leave him alone. But she persists.
"Mr. Miller, we need to speak about..." Joel quickly whipped around, his fist coming in contact with the doctor's face.
God, he wanted to do that for so long.
The doctor stood there momentarily in a state of shock, his hands coming up to cup his bleeding nose. Before Joel could mutter an apology, they ran out of the room, yelling for security.
Joel paid no mind to the doctor. He turned back to his daughter, crawling onto her bed, scooping her up into his arms. He gently rocked back and forth, mimicking the same action he used to do for her as a small child. Joel sobbed quietly into his daughter's shoulder, her skin clammy beneath him.
He sobbed and sobbed, unable to come to terms with the fact that Sarah was gone.
Soon, a man in a navy uniform entered the room, tearing Joel away from his daughter. He fought back, punching and elbowing the security guard, clawing out of his grasp to get back to his daughter.
Joel was escorted out of the hospital in a police cruiser and brought to a police station. There, he was booked and processed, then thrown into a cell.
He didn't remember the rest of the time he spent in that holding cell. He just knows that a bond was set, and Tommy paid it.
Tommy didn't speak about Sarah.
He didn't speak about her while picking Joel up, or driving him home.
Joel stumbled into his house, immediately moving to the old leather couch, plopping down.
He was absolutely defeated.
Tommy moved to sit beside him, finally speaking.
"That was real stupid of you..." he grumbled, shaking his head. "Punching a doctor? Sarah's doctor?"
"Don't say her name." Joel spat.
Tommy was silent. He knew this wasn't a good time for a snide comment, or to even talk about Sarah at this point.
Instead, he stood up, moving to the front door.
"Talked to the doctor. Said we'll cremate her," Tommy spoke softly, ensuring Joel that he didn't need to deal with any of that at this point in time.
Tommy left Joel alone for a few days, beside the occasional drop-in for food.
Joel, however, rarely spent any time at home. He purposefully avoided Tommy and his mental-health checks, spending all of his time at the bar.
It was a daily routine. Wake up past noon, drive to the bar extremely hungover, drink until he yaks it all up in the grungy bathroom, get in a fist-fight, get sent home, and pass out in Sarah's bed. He was absolutely wallowing in self-pity.
This went on for months.
It went on until he saw an ad pinned onto the cork board at his most frequented bar. Drunk and stumbling around, he pocketed the paper, only remembering about it when he wakes up the next day.
Joel read it. Reread it, then read it again, considering if this was right for him. He wouldn't be able to work as a reputable contractor again, no, not after assaulting a doctor. This would be a good chance for him to start something new. A great chance.
This would be an opportunity for him.
He could leave Texas behind, and all of its memories. Could leave behind the house, Sarah...
But Sarah would never, truly, be left behind, would she? She would never be forgotten. Joel would make sure of that. As long as he's alive, so would Sarah's memory be.
Joel decided to call the number. An older man answered on the other line, and they had a long conversation, before the old man dropped a question Joel surely wasn't expecting.
Yer coming from Texas? How long'll take you to get here?Joel gave a rough estimate, but showed up days early. He hitchhiked all the way to the ranch, and was welcomed by the older man.
At this point, the ranch was much smaller than what it was today. There were a total of three ranch hands, not including him, who were all there working for the summer.
Marty and Joel got on well. They had both lost their daughters, in a way. Marty moved away, cut contact while Sarah...
He chose not to talk about Sarah, aside from the occasional slip-out while having a drink with Marty.
Joel proved himself worthy, and loyal. Ranch hands came and went, but he stayed on the ranch. This loyalty quickly allowed him to work his way up.
Marty also took in Tanya and her children around this time. The youngest was fifteen years old when he met him. Jace and Tyler, the two youngest, spent most of their time working to stay on the ranch, while the two worked to get off the ranch. He doesn't remember much about Tanya's older children.
He considered Tanya a... mother? A friend? Someone he could go to when the loss of Sarah hung particularly hard on him.
Tanya would wrap her arms around him, as if he were a child, and speak gentle words. Just as he did with Sarah.
Years passed on the ranch, and Joel grew closer to Marty; but although they were close, they still kept many things private. Marty never spoke about his granddaughter, but sometimes Joel could hear Marty drunkenly wailing about his daughter leaving.
Years of this passed. Of them keeping some things private. Until, one day, a switch flipped.
All Marty could speak about was his Granddaughter coming to visit. He ushered the ranch hands to complete all of their chores, and then some more. Ordered them to fix a fencepost near the back of their property, repaint the barn, wash and groom all of the horses, oil all of the tack... It was a complete endless supply of things they needed to do in order for the ranch to seem perfect to you, according to him.
Who were you, anyway? The only thing Joel has ever seen of you is old childhood photos. Marty would sometimes go on rants with the very limited information his daughter supplied him about his granddaughter. When you give someone an inch, they go a mile.
Joel's suspicions were right. You were a city slicker, one who is accustomed to things being accessible from your fingertips, rather than needing to work for it. He supposed, although this is the first thing he learned about you, is also the first thing he hated about you.
He'd conjured up all these little hateful things about you in his mind leading up to your arrival. Partly, because Marty had a second chance. Second chance at getting to know his granddaughter, while Joel knows he won't ever get a second chance for Sarah. And the other reason he hated you was because of all the things Marty had him and the other boys doing.
On the day you were supposed to arrive, he stood on the porch, leaning against one of the columns. Marty stood beside him, chattering his ear off, jumping from topic to topic. Joel understood why he and Tanya got along so well, initially.
Joel watched the old truck pull up the gravel driveway. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Marty ordered a few of the ranch hands to help with your bags, all of them ushering down to the truck.
But all that hatred left him as he saw you exit the truck. He straightened up his posture, uncrossing his arms slightly. Joel watched as you walked to Marty with your arms outstretched and a big grin on your face. He had to physically stop himself from smiling just at the sight of you - of the happiness you radiated.
As you approach him with Tanya, Joel takes a deep breath, prepping himself to speak. He hasn't been this damn nervous since high school.
Traditions make up a family. How would they make up your family at Pine Ranch?
Chapter 2: Family Tradition (Reader)
AO3 found here
I already have chapter 2 posted on AO3, so I dont see no point not posting it here.
Family Tradition - Hank Williams, Jr.
It has been a few days since your arrival.
Marty showed you the reins the day after your talk on the porch, then Tanya convinced Tyler to help you with your chores.
Your chores weren't anything too much. Really, they would've taken you an hour or two at most, but Tyler was quick to agree. You supposed he wanted a day off.
The two of you stand in the horse stable, grooming a red dun mustang. You gently brush the horses fur, watching small clouds of dirt come off the coat at each swipe. Tyler stands behind you, arms crossed, giving you instructions. His words were close to controlling - pointing out everything you were doing wrong, before taking it over.
You finished brushing the horse, placing the brush into a bucket then moving it off to the side. Returning to the mustangs side, you reach up, beginning to weave the mane into small braids.
Tyler takes a step closer, reaching out to show you how to do it correctly, yet again.
Instead of stepping to the side, you swat away his hand. "I know what I'm doing." You spat, turning to the horse, who responds to your words with a huff.
Tyler takes a step back, clearing his throat.
"You didn't know what you were doing with grooming," he responds, keeping his arms crossed.
"But I know how to braid hair."
He doesn't respond at that, instead coming to stand at your side, helping you braid the top of the mane.
There was a moment of silence, and he speaks again once you finish the last braid.
"Do y'know how to ride?" He questions, raising his eyebrows.
You pause, before shaking your head, patting the horses neck.
"No."
Tyler nods, glancing around him, before disappearing into the tack room. When he returns, he carries an English saddle - which was visibly smaller and had no horn, compared to the other saddles you got a few glances from.
"Then you'll be taught. Can't go the whole summer without learning to ride, eh?" He says, throwing the small saddle pad, then the mahogany-coloured saddle following closely behind. He shows you how to adjust the stirrups, along with the girth.
After tightening the girth, he slides two fingers between the leather and the horses skin.
"Should be able to fit at least two fingers between," he says, sliding his fingers out. "Comfortable for the horse, while ensuring that the saddle doesn't slide."
You nod, watching the mustang bring a leg out and begin to paw at the ground.
Tyler removes the thick, comfortable bridle the horse was previously using to keep it in place as you groomed him, to a leather one matching the saddle. He held the reins, nodding at you to follow as he led the horse out of the barn aisle, and through the large double doors.
They lead out into an area, a few barrels tucked off into the corner. Riding around in a separate pasture was... Joel?
He was leading around sheep, and you watched as he opened up his arm, his horse seemingly following his commands effortlessly. Whistles and yips left him as he followed behind the sheep, leading them in large circles You admired, for a moment, before hearing Tyler clears his throat.
You turn your attention to him, but he wasn't clearing his throat to get your attention. Before you could react, Tyler calls out to Joel, loudly. Joel pauses his movements, and upon seeing you, Tyler, and the saddled up horse, reluctantly comes over. Tyler walks up to the fence, bringing the horse with him.
You could either stand here, awkwardly and friendless, or follow.
You decide to follow.
Still, you stand awkwardly, reaching out to gently pet the horses shoulder.
Tyler looks up at Joel, who leans forward in his saddle, crossing his forearms against the horn of his western saddle.
"Can you teach her how to ride?" Tyler questioned, nodding his head towards you.
Joel's gaze flickered between the two of you, assessing whether or not he wanted to take time out of his day to help you.
"That's an English saddle." Joel points out, the horse chortling.
Tyler shrugs. "Easiest to start with."
"Don't know how to ride English." Joel says, tilting his head to the side as his gaze shifts back to you. You knew he said it more to Tyler then you.
Tyler rolls his eyes, shaking his head. His grip tightens its hold on the reins. "Fine, I'll go find someone else to help her." He says, before quickly turning around, the horse following the lead.
A few steps away, and your ears perk up as they hear a sigh of defeat. Slightly turning your head to look over your shoulder, you catch Joel's forehead resting against his wrist, before he straightened back up.
"Fucks sake. Fine."
Tyler turns to face you, and you catch his smug smile. You couldn't help but return it.
Smart bastard.
Facing Joel once again, he quickly catches your very obvious proud smiles. He rolls his eyes, waiting on the other side of the fence.
Tyler hands the reins to you, patting the mustang on the neck, before giving your forearm a quick friendly slap.
"Have fun." He mumbles with amusement, walking past you, back towards the stable and disappearing through the doors.
Once Tyler was gone, you turn to Joel, who was watching you with an unimpressed expression.
He leans back in his saddle, shaking his head.
"Line up your horse close to the fence, girl," Joel ordered, nodding towards a spot he wanted the horse to stand.
You comply, lining the mustang close to the fence.
"Good, now climb the boards." He ordered again, and you give him a quick confused glance.
"Why?-"
"You gon' jump onto the saddle, girl?"
The way he said girl was almost derogatory.
You flash him a look of anger, but still comply. Climbing the fence boards, you place one foot in the stirrup, before swinging your leg over the saddle and placing your other foot in the opposite stirrup.
Joel nods, gaze raking you up and down.
Shit, shit, shit...
It was clear he could see your absolutely terrified expression - your knuckles were turning white with your harsh grip on the reins, body hunched in on itself with your loss of confidence in your movements.
"Straighten your back, and point your heel down."
You comply, holding the reins tightly between your fingers.
Joel gently makes a kissing sound, and his horse begins to walk. Yours follows along with the command. He was still on the other side of the fence, but paced his horse to ride along with you.
Your body completely seizes up, and Joel notices. He stops his horse, which in turn, stops yours as well.
"Just relax," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on you. "You won't be able to learn if you're freezing up like that."
Easy for you to say.
But, you nod, slightly relaxing his shoulders. He makes another kissing sound, which get both of your horses moving into a lazy walk.
He continues to keep his gaze on you, jerking his head. "Yeah, that's it. There ya go,"
You relax your body even further, and soon enough, your mirroring Joels lazy hip sways as it follows along with the horses walking.
"How 'bout we try some trotting?" He spoke, and before you could respond, he makes yet another kissing sound with his lips.
This causes your horse to speed up. Instead of a comfortable walk, it was now bumpy. You had trouble finding the rhythm - looking over at Joel for help.
"Just, relax. Match your movements with your horses. Slightly lift your hips at every trot."
He lets out a hum in response as you listen to his words, lifting your hips slightly, attempting to follow the horses rhythm.
"One, two, one, two..." Joel counts the trots, which helps you finally get a hold of it.
You begin to count with him under your breath, and you swore you could see a small smile form on his face. As you reach the corner of the arena, Joel stops. He was still on the other side of the fence, following along with you.
"That enough for today, or you want to continue?" He questions, and as much as you seemed to enjoy riding the mustang, your thighs felt like they were beginning to ache from the trotting.
"That's enough." You respond, nodding in confirmation.
He clears his throat, leading his horse away from the fence. "Alright. I'll come in, help you down."
"Can't I just use the fence again?' You question, watching him lead the horse a few steps away.
If you could use it to get up, why not use it to get down?
He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at you.
"I'll come in, help you down."
And he does.
Joel rides to the other entrance of the stable, disappearing as he turns the corner. A few beats, and he comes out of the barn doors, horseless. He approaches you, and you sit awkwardly on the mustang.
Joel reaches up, waving his fingers impatiently.
"Come on, then, don't have all day."
"I can get down myself."
"No, you'll hurt yourself. Marty'll kill me. Come here." He waves his fingers again, eyebrows furrowing against the bright sun and annoyance at your reluctance.
You sigh, not wanting Joel to carry you down. But, to be fair, you weren't exactly sure how to get down off the horse. So, you let go of the reins and lean towards Joel.
He grabs ahold of your waist and easily plops you down onto the ground, removing his hands just as easily as they were placed. No lingering, no sentimental touches. Joel turns away from you as soon as you were stable.
You glance around, your eyes landing on Marty standing on the porch, watching you and Joel with his arms crossed. Joel reaches over and takes the mustangs reins, beginning to lead it back towards the stable.
"Reckon your Granddaddy wants to talk." He spoke over his shoulder, leaving you standing in the arena alone.
You watch as Joel walks into the stable, and you decide that you'd had enough of the cowboy today. Walking towards the gate that was off to the side, you lift up the chains, the rattling spooking some of the sheep in the other pasture.
You walk up the small hill towards the farmhouse, opting to stand in front of the porch as Marty leans onto the railing.
"Joel teachin' you to ride?" He spoke, a small grin on his face. You nod, unconfidently. "Ah, don't worry. You'll pick it up, Bug."
With him as a teacher? Maybe not.
But instead of respond with a comment, you mirror his grin. "I bet I will."
"Wan' Jace to pick anything up? He's going into town," Marty jerks his head towards the truck that Jace was beginning to load up.
You thought about it, before agreeing.
It'd be nice to see the town.
Marty pushes himself away from the porch railing, walking over to the steps. You head follows him as he walks down onto the lawn, where you were standing. The older man accompanies you as you walk down towards the truck.
You stop walking just a few meters away from the truck, but Marty walks all the way over to you. He greets Jace with a slap on the shoulder, before leaning in to talk in hushed conversation. Then a finger is pointed over towards you.
They exchange nods, before Marty walks back over to you, giving a nod and smile. "Jace'll pay for anything you need."
You glance over at Jace, who was ignoring your stare. Walking up to the truck, you give him a small shy smile. You open your mouth to speak, but he manages to speak before you.
"Comin' to town, are ya?" You nod you head in response. "Get in the truck."
You give another nod, before quickly crossing the front of the truck, getting into the passenger seat.
The drive into town was peaceful. It was the opposite way your arrived from. The gravel underneath the truck crackles slightly as the tires slowly rolls over the pebbles, before returning onto the main paved road.
The engine hummed softly as Jace drove down the road, his finger tapping against the wheel. It was a short drive into town, compared to the drive from the airport.
The town was decent. Edwardian commercial buildings ran up the Main Street, and you caught glimpses of bakeries, cafes, even a small clothing store. You were excited to check that out. Jace turned the truck into a parking lot, pulling into an empty space. He turns to you, eyeing you for a moment. "We need to go to the feed store," he spoke, turning and nodding his head towards a building across the street. "Then we can go to wherever..." He finished, waving his hand in the air.
You nod and open the truck door, sliding out of the seat.
About an hour passes of Jace bickering with the store associate before the two finally settle on a price. You walk out of the store with Jace, who was carrying a bag of feed over his shoulder, a few of the stores employees following behind carrying the same feed.
Once you two return to the truck, the two of you get in. He starts the vehicle up, pulling out of the parking lot.
He was silent for a few minutes as the two of you pulled out of town, before starting up an awkward conversation. "So..." he begins, glancing over at you as he drives. "You... you like the town."
You glance over at him, raising your eyebrows with an unimpressed expression, a small chuckle leaving you. "Yeah. Yeah it's nice."
He jerks his head before looking back out at the road.
"Did Marty tell you? 'Bout the small celebration we're havin' tonight?"
You pout out your bottom lip and shake your head, looking over at Jace. "What celebration."
Jace realises his mistake, pouting his lips. "Yeah-uh... never mind."
A small laugh leaves you, then Jace laughs as well.
When you return to the ranch, Jace dismisses you. Some of the ranch hands come up to the truck, grabbing the bags of feed, while you return to the farm house.
Opening the screen door, you find Tanya sitting on the living room couch, flipping through a magazine. When she saw you, a cheerful smile broke out onto her face. Calling out your name, she stands up.
"How was town? Did you find anything nice?" Tanya bombards you with questions.
You chuckle, attempting to answer all of them.
You spend the next two hours in the living room with Tanya, sharing stories. Soon, Marty joins the two of you in the living room. Then Jace, and Tyler.
The sun had already set. Tanya sets out a smaller dinner compared to your first night. After the quick meal, everyone returns to the living room. Drinks are handed out, and it doesn't take long until everyone's rowdy.
Tanya moves over to the small piano in the corner of the room, tapping the keys. Soon, a melody begins to come together, and her two sons begin to poorly sing a song. Marty joins in, humming the words he doesn't know.
Jace and Tyler had their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, chanting words. You watch in amusement as Jace and Tyler begin to sway playfully, Tyler finishing off the song with a lively howl.
They stumble away from each other, Marty coming over to slap their backs. Tanya begins hitting the piano keys again, and they men break out into another song. Tyler reaches out and brings you to your feet, drunkenly swaying as the sings loudly.
You giggle as Tyler has his arms wrapped around your shoulders, stumbling over his feet as he attempts to dance. Marty boasts loudly, encouraging it. He stands up and grabs Jace's shoulders, beginning to mirror Tyler and your movements.
You squeal in drunken delight as you catch a glimpse of your Grandfather and Jace hooting along with the Tanya clanging on the keys of the piano, her voice occasionally filling in their murmurs.
Eventually, Tyler allows you to sit back down onto the couch, collapsing next to you. He gulps the rest of his beer down, his eyes glazed over and blurry as he turns his head to look at you, away from Marty and Jace continuing to twirl around the living room.
"Hey, hey..." Tyler drunkenly begins, letting out a small belch. "Reckon you'll stay on the ranch?" he murmurs, his posture slumped over as his chugging began to catch up to him.
You only respond with a laugh, watching him groan and curl into a ball of loathing as nausea began to hit him. Marty notices, stepping away from Jace.
"Think it's best if you boys return to the bunkhouse," Marty grunts, keeping his gaze on a hunched-over Tyler.
Jace groans, but nods in agreement. Him and Marty help to pick up Tyler, slinging Tylers arm over his brother's shoulder. Jace supports Tyler as he begins to stumble out of the farmhouse, tripping over his feet a few times in the process.
You heard Jace lecturing Tyler as they walked towards a far building.
"Boy can't handle his alcohol!" Marty calls out, chuckling as Tyler responds back by holding up a middle finger.
Tanya was off the piano by now. She wasn't as drunk as your grandfather or the boys, but enough to still stumble around a little bit. Marty turns towards Tanya, offering to walk her to the small home she's stationed in not to far away, but she declines.
Marty does, however, walk her to the porch door. Tanya's night ends with a kiss on the cheek from the old man, before she too, walks into the groggy night.
You watch, a small drunken smile on your face, and you being to coo teasingly.
Marty turns towards you, waving his hands up in the air dismissively. "Get to bed, Bug."
next ➛
one day I’ll finally write that ridiculously elaborate fanfiction that I’ve been carefully constructing in my daydreams for months and then you’ll be sorry. you’ll all be sorry.
Returning to your Grandfathers ranch in the summer, you unknowingly pique the interest of a Ranch hand - Joel Miller. Will your summer return back to the sweet, fond memories of your childhood, or will this Ranch hand turn your short summer escape into the longest three months of your life?
Chapter 1: Grandpa (Tell Me 'Bout The Good Old Days) (Reader)
AO3 found here
hello! this is my first time posting on Tumblr ever, so I'm sorry if I didn't get the layout right. I took inspiration from other Joel miller posts I saw on here, so hopefully it turned out alright.
That being said, please be patient with me! I hope, if you give this a chance, you will like it! :0 I'm also not really sure how to tag this here, so any advice will be gladly taken. Thank you!
Grandpa (Tell Me ‘Bout The Good Old Days) - The Judds
The heat is sweltering.
The window of your grandfather's 1980 Chevy is cranked down, allowing the small compartment to get some airflow. The wind cools you as your hair whips around your face. You stick a hand out the window, feeling it run through your fingers.
A small smile forms on your face as you lean close towards the window, glancing up. There are plenty of clouds in the sky, following the truck as you and your passenger drive down the empty road. Your gaze slowly drifts to the crooked mirror, displaying the wild mess of your hair and the peeling light-blue paint of the truck.
You haven't ridden in this truck since your last summer at your grandfather's ranch - hell, you haven't been to the state since your last summer. Or the surrounding states, for that matter, since before you even hit double digits.
You don't remember most of your summers at the ranch - time'll do that to you. Your parents moved to Florida after your grandmother passed, then your parents got a divorce shortly after. From there, you were tossed from Tampa to some dingy town an hour outside Jacksonville every summer. Both of your parents got remarried, and moved on in life - seemingly forcing you to move on with them.
Digging through boxes of clutter in your mother’s garage, you find stacks of photo albums, all showing her growing up at the Ranch, then your father slowly making his way into the photos, then you. The last photo, showcasing your last visit, had information scribbled onto the back with a smudged pen. A phone number and address. Calling the number, a gruff old man answers on the other side.
Listen, lady, whatever yer selling I don't want! How many times do I gotta tell you, take me off your call lists!
You scramble to explain before the older man could maneuver the phone away from his ear and hit the large end call button in the bulky phone.
Luckily, he gave you the benefit of the doubt, and kept you on the phone.
Who - Ah! You know how long I've been bugging your mother to call me! When are you coming to visit? This weekend? I'll set up a bedroom. See you then.
He hangs up before you could explain that you just wanted to check in, and weren't really planning on visiting - but he seemed so happy that you called. That someone called. And who were you to deny your grandfather?
And that's how you end up here. A good load of baggage thrown into the trunk, with your grandfather's neighbour driving you to his ranch, borrowing his truck, of course.
The lady must've been about a decade or two younger than your grandfather. She introduces herself as Tanya when she picked you up, immediately wrapping her arms around you as you introduced yourself. She had wild bleach-blond hair, teased and styled like it was still the 80's - and her clothes didn't show much of a difference. Capri pants with small lady bugs embroidered near the bottom hem and a loose light-green blouse. It was a wonder her hair wasn't whipping around at this moment, but you came to the conclusion that it was the hairspray. Damn near glue at this point.
She gives you a quick glance as you shift to lean against the door, sticking your head out the window to hopefully allow your hair to fall back into its place without you needing to fuss over it with your hands.
"Are you excited to be here?" She didn't allow you to respond, before continuing. "You know, your Granddaddy is real you could end up coming. Came knocking on my door, about an hour after you called, asking what he needed to buy for you, what food girls eat these days..." The woman rambles on, her voice cheerful as she explains the extent your grandfather has gone through in the week preparing for your arrival.
You arch your eyebrows as she mentions your grandfather threatened to fire all of his staff if he heard so much of a complaint come out of your mouth. "He what?"
Tanya puckers out her frosted-pink lips, nodding furiously. "Oh yes, your granddaddy isn't a strict man, but when you confirmed you were coming to visit..." She began, chuckling to herself before continuing. "Marty nearly had a heart attack, treating the boys like he was their drill sergeant. Had to make sure they wouldn't gawk at you."
A scoff leaves you as you glance back out the side window. "I can manage myself."
The woman glances over at you, her soft expression furrowing for a moment before she looks back at the road. "You know cowboys," she spoke, seemingly excusing the stereotypical behaviour that revolves around these men. "I was a young n' pretty thing too, you know." Tanya hums, shrugging her shoulders proudly. "I know what the men here'll do."
You glance back over at her, considering her words before deciding to not take them seriously. You were here for a summer, anyway.
Just a summer.
Three months.
Not much can happen in just one summer.
It is another thirty-minute drive before you begin to see the wheat fields, then a ranch house comes into view. It was painted a nice light yellow, with blue frames. The gravel crunches under the tires as Tanya pulls into the driveway, continuing to speak - jumping from one topic to another. One minute it could be about her dog who brought home a dead squirrel, to her eldest son enlisting in the military, to the gossip she heard down at the hair salon.
Once the truck comes to a complete stop, you take a moment before opening the door and jumping out. You stretch your arms above your head, feeling the sore muscles relax.
As you begin to walk towards the bed of the truck to collect your luggage, you hear the screen door on the porch slam closed. Quickly turning around, you see your grandfather coming down the stairs, his arms outstretched. You step forward towards him, meeting him halfway.
He presses kisses against the crown of your head, holding you for a long moment before giving you a tight squeeze and finally letting you go. Stepping back, he places his arms on your shoulders.
"Holy shit, you've grown, kid." He says, looking you up and down with a wide smile. A smile so big, he looks as if he were a child who was just told they could have whatever they wanted in the candy store.
You chuckle, shrugging your shoulders. "It's only been fourteen years," you respond, attempting to downplay the amount of time you've spent away from this man. While this time was seemingly meaningless to you, it clearly wasn't to him.
"Fourteen years too long. Are you doing well? What about Jenny?" He questions, his gaze looking over your face, as if he could replay every birthday he's missed and see how you've grown.
"Yeah, mom and dad are good. Still in Florida," You respond, watching him nod. He steps back, taking one more glance over you before looking back over at the porch.
There were a few men lined up at the top of the steps.
Okay, that's not intimidating.
The sweet attitude your grandfather had just welcomed you quickly soured as he saw the men standing around. Throwing a hand up in the air, he lets out a scoff. "Grab my granddaughter's bags, don't just stand around like duds!" He calls out, and nearly all of the men immediately scramble off of the steps, the loud crunch of gravel creating small whooshes of dust as they make their way over to the bed of the truck.
Your grandfather steps towards the one man hanging back, looking back over his shoulder at you and nodding, telling you to follow.
You do.
Glancing behind your shoulder, you see the men handing your bags down, with Tanya giving some orders for the more delicate bags. Turning back towards your grandfather, you see him, along with a man standing at the top of the steps looking down at you.
The man was clearly the oldest of the bunch - and what you guessed to be your... Grandfather's second-hand-man? His most important trustee? You don't know - but what you do know, is this man is clearly important around here. Influential.
He was tan, with some pale skin peeking out from under his t-shirt. His face had a permanent frown etched into it, the crows' feet at the corner of his eyes deepening as his squints down at you. He offers a small nod, the eye contact breaking as his hat dips down. His jeans were worn, dirt practically sewn in with the cotton of the denim at this point. Dirt handprints cover his thighs where he no doubt wiped his hands.
"Welcome to Pine Ranch." He welcomes you, keeping his arms crossed. You offer a sweet smile in response, using the excuse of a small nod to get another look at him without it being suspicious.
"Thank you," You respond, but before you could finish your thanks, the gruff man interrupts you.
He glances over at your grandfather, then back at you, cracking a small smirk. "He's been talking nonstop 'bout you coming." The man reveals, letting out a small humorous hiss as your grandfather swats his arm.
You watch with amusement as the two bicker, before turning your attention over your shoulder to the men now carrying your bags, stumbling over their footing as they carried various loose ends underneath their arms, chin, and anything else they can use to carry.
They walk past you, offering small attempts at nods or grunts of acknowledgment as they trudge up the front porch steps, disappearing into the farm house. Tanya follows, but stops beside you, deciding to watch your grandfather and the older ranch-hand continue to bicker.
Eventually, after your grandfather gets the final word, the two turn their attention onto the two women at the bottom of the steps, who were looking at them with more of an unimpressed expression, rather than the one of amusement they once had.
Tanya spoke, shaking her head like a mother lecturing her child. "Joel, still a child at heart, I see."
Joel?
Joel.
The name suits him.
The man, who you've newly just discovered to be named Joel, grunts, leaning back against the pillar he was so comfortable against before starting the bickering. "I'm young at heart."
Your grandfather lets out a snort before patting Joel on the shoulder, turning to the front door. He called out your name, swinging open the screen door. "Come, I'll show you to your room."
You quickly follow, feet carrying you up the wooden steps and towards the front door. You duck under your grandfather's arm as he holds the door open, closing it for him as he follows behind you.
Tanya and Joel stay behind, stuck in their own conversation.
The house is just completely different from the photographs - it was completely renovated. Instead of the front sitting room having a dark green carpet and oak panelling covering the wall, there was a dark wood flooring. The walls still had a floral wallpaper, though; just one that would be acceptable in this century.
He walks past the stairs that led to the second floor and into the kitchen. The cabinets were painted an off-white, while the backsplash was replaced with blue tiles instead of the yellow and green ones. "Lots has changed." You comment as you begin to conjure up a list of all the renovation projects.
He responds with a grunt. "Tanya helped pick. She's good with that stuff."
Tanya?Are he and Tanya a thing?Is that why she picked you up in his truck, instead of himself?You couldn't help but ask. "Are you and... Well..." You hesitate, realizing this is probably not the best thing to ask your grandfather you haven't seen since you were eight years old.
He glances over his shoulder with a furrowed eyebrow. You didn't fully ask your question, but he understood. He shrugs in response.
"Her son works on the farm. I met her just before..." He trails off, clearly not ready to talk about his long-gone wife. "She was a single mother, raising four kids. I took her in when she lost her job."
You nod, a small smile growing on your face. Your grandfather was a kind man, so why did you never visit?
"Does she stay in the house?" You question, attempting to get his mind off his late wife. He perks up at the question, grateful that you're keeping the conversation going.
He lets out a gruff sound in response, before waving his arm off at the Kitchen screen door. "Lives in the guest house. Her boys live in the bunkhouse."
There was a moment of silence between you two before he pushed himself off the kitchen counter with a grunt, his joints popping. "Come on, Bug, I'll show you to your room."
Bug.
He used to call you that when you were younger, before he was completely tossed out of your life by your parents. You didn't exactly like it, but you decided to put up with it. You owed him that much, after not being in his life for so long.
You follow after your grandfather as he walks up the stairs, holding onto the rickety old railing. The one thing that hasn't changed during his renovations.
He takes a left, and you follow behind. The second floor is a whole lot warmer then the kitchen you had just come out of; Humid, and sticky. The afternoon sun shines through the window at the far end of the hallway, the leaves shifting slightly in the wind, creating a flickering pattern along the wood floors.
You pass by two doors, then your grandfather stops. "This was your mother's room, as a teenager. I didn't..." The older man trails off, before straightening his posture and pushing the door open.
He waits for you to pass by. You walk in, and are immediately hit with 70's nostalgia.
Well, it can't be nostalgic, as that was nearly 20 years before you were born-
You turn your head, catching your grandfather twiddling with his fingers nervously. For someone who seemed intimidating, he sure was shy. "Do you think your mother will come and visit me some day?" He questions, and you feel your stomach churn.
This poor, old man. Completely deprived of his daughter, his only granddaughter - his wife. All within a few months of each other.
Still, knowing your mother's answer, you nod slowly, offering a convincing smile. "Yeah. Yeah I'm sure she'll visit."
With that, a small relieved smile grows on your grandfather's face. He walks back to the door, placing a hand on the knob. He closes it nearly all the way, before peeking his head in. "I'll leave you to it." And with that, the door shuts, leaving you in this stuffy, humid, excruciatingly hot room, with nearly every single piece of furniture covered in light pink ruffles.
Your bags were piled neatly in one of the corners, beside the wooden dresser. You walk to the nearest window, opening it and hoping the airflow could ever slightly cool down your new room. You flop back onto the bed, arms outstretched above you as the springs squeak and creak with a protest for the new movement, after nearly a decade without any use.
After a few minutes of allowing the breeze to rush over your body as you lay back on the bed, you sit up and decide to start unpacking. With another groan of protest, the spring squeaks in discontent as you move off the bed.
Once you are finished moving your folded clothing into the dresser, which, surprisingly, was the only furniture not covered in ruffles in the room, you decide to venture back downstairs.
You head into the kitchen, finding your grandfather, Tanya, Joel, along with two younger-looking men you didn't recognize.
With the late summer evening, also came the sound of bugs as they called out. The back door was opening, allowing a nice breeze to flow through the kitchen from the screen door. You could hear cicadas buzzing loudly outside, singing their song of vibration.
Tanya steps away from the island she was leaning on, ushering you to come closer. You do, moving to stand right between her and Joel. You could see Joel giving you a quick sideways glance, as if judging your decision to stand beside him.
The older woman places a comforting hand on your shoulder, thankfully removing your attention from the roughed-up man. She introduces you to the two younger men, and they offer you shy smiles and waves. "These are my sons," She spoke, and you use the introduction as an excuse to get a good look at the men. They looked extremely similar - so much that, if it weren't for their obvious age difference - you would've guessed they were twins.
They had medium-length blondish-red hair, with freckles covering their faces and dirt creasing into the small wrinkles from hours of staring up at the sun. They looked similar to Tanya, too - same dark blue eyes - but you thought they resembled their father more. Although you've never seen a picture of him.
"Jace, the one on the left," Tanya spoke, and the older one on the left offered a nod. You divert your attention to the right one, now. The one who looked more your age. "And that is Tyler." The man greets you with another smile.
You want to be friendly. You want to engage in conversation. After all, you didn't come to this ranch to exclusively hang around in the kitchen and not talk to anyone, besides your grandfather, and maybe the occasional horse.
"Tyler, what year were you born in?" You questioned, wanting to see if there was at least someone near your age on this farm.
Tyler adjusts his stance, placing his hands on the edge of the island. "Nine-teen-ninety-seven."
A year younger. Not bad.You nod in acknowledgement, but before you could respond, Tanya spoke.
"You two used to play together! You don't remember?" She questions with a somber expression - as if you just insulted her personally.
You try to speak, but once again, interrupted.
"She won't remember that, she was-what? Four? Five?" Your grandfather butts in - his nervousness from before is completely gone now, replaced by his usual gruff demeanour.
Tanya and your grandfather begin to bicker. You look at Tyler, and he returns your gaze. The two of you give empathetic looks to each other.
The two decide to take their friendly arguing outside. You hear Tanya's voice, then your grandfather's gruff response until they're nearly a few meters away from the chicken coop.
You decided to return to your room. Sitting on the bed, you cringe as the springs screech yet again.
A voice speaks, and you nearly jumped a foot off the bed, head immediately whipping up to the sound. There was Tyler, standing there wide-eyed, not expecting your expression.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya." He says, chuckling as his hands came up. He took one glance around the room, his face making the same reaction as yours did to the springs.
"Jeee-sus." Tyler spoke, stepping into the room. "Never been in this room. It's like it's stuck in time." He comments, and you agree.
The two of you had a short conversation before he was kicked out of your room by his older brother, Jace. The man offered you a nod as he led his younger brother out of the room by the scruff of the neck. It seems those two were sent back to doing chores.
When the smell of a meal finally makes its way upstairs and hits your nose, you swore you could feel your mouth begin to salivate. A soft knock lands on your door, and your grandfather awkwardly shuffles in. "I.. uh-" He began, clearing his throat. "I brought you dinner. Wasn't sure if you wanted to eat up here or downstairs."
You turn your head curiously, sitting up, your calves dangling off the side of the bed. "Why wouldn't I eat downstairs?"
He shrugged again, his thumbs flexing against the edge of the plate as he continued to hold it. "Your mother would eat up here, so-"
This time, you did the interrupting.
"I'll eat downstairs."
You follow him down the hallway and stairs, into a dining room. The table was a dark oak, and it was clearly meant to be used for special events.
He places your plate next to an empty seat. At the table sat Tanya, her sons, and your grandfather. Tanya was softly lecturing the boys as you walked in, but their heads didn't raise and she didn't quiet down.
You sit down, all of you beginning to eat after saying a quick prayer.
After you were taken away from Montana, your mother didn't keep up with the religious stuff. No more praying at meals, going to church... Your father, however, was a completely different story. It seemed like after the divorce, he turned himself entirely to religion.
All of you begin to dig into the meal. It was a roast - completed with mashed potatoes and green beans, which you have guessed came from the farm. A few minutes of eating in silence, before someone spoke up.
"This is good, mom," Jace says, nodding his head as he shovels in a concoction of mashed potatoes, gravy, meat, and vegetables. Everyone grunts in agreement at his words.
The backdoor of the kitchen swung open, and you could hear some ruckus. You raise your head in curiosity, but nobody else does. You take that as a sign to return to your meal.
In walks Joel, his hands clean and washed - while the rest of him was caked in dirt. He comes and sits down at the empty spot beside you. Tanya groans loudly, and you turn your head into your shoulder to hide your smirk.
Tanya, just as she was lecturing her sons as you came in, began to lecture Joel as well. Joel only responds by raising his hands, offering an apology, then shovelling the food into his mouth, just as Jace did.
But instead of shovelling, it was more like vacuuming. Joel was hunched over his plate, breathing heavily between mouthfuls of food, acting like a complete barbarian who has never had food in his life.
You must've been staring too long, before after a forkful, Joel turns his head towards you. "What?" He spoke, his words completely muffled by the barrier of food.
The rest of the table stares at him, before going back to their own plates. You shrug, doing the same. "Nothing."
He lets out a half-scoff, half-chuckle. A I told you so remarks as you go back to minding your business.
Once everyone was finished, you offered to do the dishes. There were a few sounds of protests, but you insisted. Once the dining room is empty, you gather up dishes and begin to haul them to the kitchen. You didn't realize how many dishes there truly were - and needed to make a few rounds.
Plates, cutlery, casserole dishes...
You place the plates into the sink, followed by a clang of silverware. Just as you were about to step away from the sink, you felt a presence behind you. Joel, carrying the rest of the dishes, seemingly saved you a few trips. He placed the dishes beside the sink, not bothering to respond to yourthank you.
Tanya's sons have already left back to the ranch hands’ bunkerhouse, while Tanya and your grandfather sat on the living room couch, engrossed in their gameshow rerun. It was just you and Joel.
You felt you hadn't hit it off with him. That there was a blockade between you two. So, deciding to start up a conversation, you turn to face him. But he was already standing at the door, hand on the handle, his gaze resting on you.
Your mouth opens to speak, but he beats you to it. "Headin' out!" He calls, and you knew it was meant more for your grandfather and Tanya than you. But, even as he spoke, he kept his gaze on you.
It was only when he heard the quick goodbyes did he open the kitchen back door and disappear through it, without offering you a word.
You try to look out the kitchen window and see his retreating form, but instead only got the kitchen lights reflection in the window. Bummer.
After washing the dishes, you venture into the living room to sit with Tanya and your grandfather. They were entirely focused on their gameshow; the host was wearing a purple suit and tie, with big white teeth that he flashed after every soundtrack, and he held cue cards with the show's title.
When the episode rerun was another, your grandfather saw Tanya out. They had a hushed conversation - much too quiet for you to easily drop in on. When Tanya left, your grandfather stood in front of your spot on the couch, instead of sitting back down.
"Y'old enough to drink, Bug?" he questions, raising an eyebrow with a small grin on his face.
You nod in response, and he ventures off to the kitchen, holding a few beers by their neck. He nods towards the front door and you follow, moving onto the porch.
The sky is darker now. Instead of the vibrational song of cicadas, it was now crickets offering a melody. You sit down on one of two wooden seats, grabbing a beer as your grandfather holds it out and sits down with an oomph. The two of you crack your first drinks open, catching up on life. Your life, specifically. And your mothers. After every few sentences the man would take a sip of his beer and stare off into the distance.
Eventually, you spoke up about it. "Grandpa?" You called out, taking a moment and feeling the word on your tongue. It didn't feel right.
It seems he shared the same feelings. "No - don't call me that. I don't deserve that."
The two of you were now a few beers deep, and emotions were running high.
"I haven't been here long enough for you to call me that. In your life."
You supposed it made sense. With a nod, you agree. "Okay."
There was a beat of silence between you two as your grandfather fought hard about what he handed his granddaughter to call him.
"Marty." he spoke, taking a sip of his beer.
You nod. You like Marty a whole lot better than Grandpa. It suits him better."
"Alright, Marty. What about you calling me my name, instead of Bug?" You respond, offering a proposal.
Marty snorts into his beer.
"Not a chance in hell."
You knew that would be his answer, but it was worth a shot.
After a moment, you lean into the cushions underneath you, continuing to nurse your beer bottle.
“Why do you call me that? Bug?”
Marty smiles once again, taking yet another sip of his beer, glancing over at you.
“Used to keep them in your pocket. These beetles—nasty little fuckers—” he begins, taking another sip, looking out towards the empty field in front on the other side of the road. “Were everywhere. I mean, in the house. Your Grandmother was pissed.”
The two of you laugh at that for a moment, before a comfortable silence falls over the two of you. “Plus, your mom was Bee, so her kid being Bug made sense.”
You nod. You don’t remember any of that. You wish you did. A memory he clearly cherished, but to you, it was not even worth remembering. As if he rehearses the memory daily, afraid he might lose it one day.
The two of you sit for a while longer, the night filled with chirps and coos from different animals skittering around.
You decided to break the silence with a question - and the first one that came to mind was about Joel.
"How'd you come across Joel?"
Your grandfather straightens his back, keeping his gaze locked on the distance.
"Sent out ads 'bout a year or two after you left," he spoke, taking a final swig of his beer, placing it onto the side table between you two. "He showed up, came all the way from Texas. Said he grew up in the country, so I took him in."
You listen, crossing your legs as the old man spoke.
"Joel's a hard worker. Quickly learned the ways of the ranch," he pauses, turning to look at you. "Why do you ask?"
Shrugging, you sit up, finishing off your beer as well. "Well, I know how you met Tanya and her sons, so I thought it was only fair to ask about Joel."
He tilts his head in agreement. There was another beat of silence between you too, before Marty slapped his knees, standing up from his spot.
"Reckon it's time for bed. You're gonna help around the ranch tomorrow, Bug." He spoke, waiting for you to stand up and follow.
With a small groan, you grab the empty beer bottles and follow him into the house. "Is that the only reason you wanted me to come? A free worker?" that earned a small huff of laughter.
"Yeah, Bug."
Three months on this ranch.
Three months then you can return to your normal, city life.
next ➛
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