The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,103
one month we knew each other before we tied the knot, and we were married fifty-six years. Marriage is hard no matter what, Wes, and dating her for years before marrying her wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference. Just woulda kept me from having her in bed, because back then we didn’t do that before marriage.” He cackles while I cringe, trying not to think of my grandma that way. “From what I can tell, you’ve gone and fucked this up something awful, but it’s salvageable. Everything is.”
My hand flies to my chest. “I’ve fucked this up?”
“Yep. You young people make it all so difficult. You went and asked her to marry you to get the ranch, and I can see why, but I think you bit off a little more than you could chew. I might be near deaf, but I’m not blind. My advice? Cut the shit and tell her you’re in love with her. You can still marry her, but don’t do it without telling her how you feel. She deserves that.”
My head’s spinning. It’s like he reached into the recesses of my mind and said everything I think but can’t seem to say. And how does he even know about marrying Dakota to get the ranch? When I ask him, he says, “Overheard your mom and dad talking.”
I throw up my hands and he snickers. I gather both our empty cans and stand, but Gramps stops me with an outstretched arm. “Your dad told me you attended a meeting at the VFW.” He nods at me, serious now. “Proud of you, Son. There’s nothing braver than a man getting help when he needs it.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, uncharacteristic shyness creeping in.
“So, what are you going to do about Dakota now that the trust has been changed?”
“I don’t know, Gramps. I just found out about it. I need time to think.”
“I won’t tell you to hang on to something you don’t think is right. What I will tell you is that if you think you’ve got a shot at happiness, you owe it to yourself and to all those men you fought alongside who didn’t make it back. They didn’t fight so you could mope around your house and deny yourself life’s pleasures. This is the land of the free, remember? They fought and died for your freedom, and that affords you the opportunity to love the person you see fit to love. Denying yourself would be a fool’s move.”
I’m stunned. “Gramps, I…”
He waves me off. “Don’t say anything, Wes. Just think about what’s best for you. If you could have everything you wanted, what would that look like?”
Gramps gets up. He tells me goodnight and walks into the house. After a few minutes, I follow him in and deposit the cans in the recycling bin. I check my phone. Still nothing from Dakota, but an idea pops into my head and it makes a grin spread on my face from ear to ear.
I type out a quick message to my friend who I had look into Dakota. My embarrassment at jumping to conclusions at that celebration dinner hasn’t faded.
Lucky for me, he’s still at work and writes me back.
All set, he says.
I slip my phone in my pocket and head toward the back door. Excitement flurries through me, making me take my steps at double-speed. I need to grab my truck keys from my cabin and get into town. I need to see Dakota, need to tell her that I just—
Warner bursts in through the door as I’m reaching for the handle. Panic makes his eyes wide and wild, his movements shaky. “The barn is on fire.” His voice is just above a whisper, as if he can’t believe the words are coming from him.
“Call the fire department,” I instruct Warner, taking off for the shed behind the house where we keep the fire extinguishers. Behind me Warner yells, “I called them as soon as I saw it.”
Still, it will take them twenty minutes or so to get out here. I throw open the shed and grab two extinguishers. Warner does the same, and together we take off at a run.
I smell it a few seconds before I see it. Once, at the Merc, I saw Burning Wood as the scent of a candle, and I thought that made sense because I love the smell of a campfire.
But not right now. This smell of burning wood breaks my heart.