Page 50 of Up in Smoke (The Bunkhouse #3)

TRIPP

Mesa’s speaker plays low in the backyard as she and Blythe lie on a large blanket in the grass. Their feet swing in the air while their upper bodies are propped up on their elbows. Half of her red hair is pulled back and tied up in a ribbon. Lips stretched wide in a smile.

I lean back in my seat under the back porch with my head tilted slightly. Watching her.

Gage blocks my view momentarily as he crosses the yard and walks inside with a drink in his hand. Savannah distracts me next, waving incessantly out of the corner of my eye.

I turn my head, and she silently mouths, “They’re here.”

Blythe and I make eye contact, and one nod from me is all she needs to take Mesa’s hand and stand to bring her inside. I smirk as they pass by, and Mesa pins me with a look of confusion on her face.

Any second now.

“Oh my god!” Mesa screams from inside.

My palms slap my knees as I rise from my chair and join everyone else in the house. By everyone, I mean everyone .

Mesa’s mom and Nana. Nana’s nurse, who is helping her to find a comfortable seat at the table, albeit slowly. The two women who created the app with her. The entire crew from the ranch.

I’m on my way to help Nana when Mesa jumps up and smashes her mouth against mine the second she spots me entering the living room. My arms loop around her back, and I rub the pad of my thumb along her shoulder blade. She smells like her garden, and her lips taste like sparkling peach wine.

Once she pulls back, I wipe away the tear that sits on the apple of her cheek.

“I didn’t know you invited them,” she says, beaming.

“That’s generally the point of surprises,” I point out with a laugh. “More fun that way, don’t you think?”

Mesa nods several times and rises to her toes to give me a quick kiss again. Putting everyone she cares about in one room on short notice wasn’t a hard task. Each call I made ended with an enthusiastic, “ Yes, I’ll be there. No matter what. ”

Everyone in her life loves her dearly. As they should. How could they not? They’d be hard-pressed to find anyone with a more loyal, resilient, and compassionate personality than my girl.

She skips around the room as chatter picks up among everyone here to celebrate her.

Blythe introduces herself to Mesa’s app partners near the table. Gage stands next to B with an arm around her shoulder, and I pat the middle of his back as I weave past them.

Savannah cuts a cherry pie at the kitchen island, plating each piece, while Warren scoops vanilla ice cream to go with it.

Heston snags one of the plates and hands it to Mesa’s mom. I come up next to her and she shakes her head—eyes narrowed and a slight curve to one side of her mouth.

“Not a bad party,” she says, scanning the group of people in the house. Then she leans toward me and whispers, “I knew you two liked each other. It’s wonderful seeing how close you two have become.”

“We’ve always been this close,” I reply honestly, and look over to where Mesa and her nana are in deep conversation at the table.

We’re together now, but looking back on when we started as friends, it took no time at all for the closeness to form.

I felt it in the first week of knowing her. “I just want to make her happy,” I add.

“Mission accomplished there. She’s told me as much,” Ms. Riley reveals. “Keep her safe and make sure y’all come visit often, hmm?”

I nod with my mouth pressed in a firm line. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You there,” Mesa’s nana calls me over with a wave, and I’m at the table a moment later. “Sit with us so I can grill you before I keel over and die soon.”

I laugh, nodding and pulling out a chair.

“ Nana ,” Mesa whispers while shooting me an apologetic look. “Can you bring some water first, T? Please?”

Spinning on my heel, I head for the kitchen cabinet. I make a mental note to buy Mesa some cups because all the ones that she owns are currently in use. I glare at the empty shelf until I spot a glass in the sink in my peripheral.

Not wanting to pour soap on it if it’s already been washed, I hold it up and get Mesa’s attention. “Babe. Is this clean?”

She squints, and I study the glass, turning it through the light in the room.

“Bring that here,” Nana speaks up.

I shrug and walk back to the table. She reaches for the glass and immediately turns it over to look at the bottom. My eyes narrow as I study the red-stamped logo that seems oddly familiar.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Nana huffs. “I thought I had lost this.”

Mesa leans toward her. “I found it while I was cleaning the other day. It was tucked way back against the wall on top of the cabinets and covered in dust.”

“Well, I’m sure it was.” Nana nods. “It’s old. I had a client once. A friend, rather. She stayed with me for a while and had brought some things with her from back home.” She shakes her head like she’s reminiscing. “Gave this to me as a gift. Very special young lady.”

I give Mesa a questioning look.

“Nana used to live here in this house. She was a midwife,” she explains.

It must have been a long time ago, because since I’ve lived in Westridge, this place was vacant until Mesa moved in. I lean so close to the wine glass that I almost fall over.

“I don’t know this story,” Mesa says to her nana sweetly, having no idea what wheels are spinning in my head. “She was staying with you? Like, she lived here?”

“Oh, yeah.” Nana nods. She places the glass on the table, and I snatch it right up to look at the logo again. “Very young. Poor thing had nowhere else to go. I quite enjoyed having her here, actually. You wouldn’t believe how long she was pregnant. I started to worry when she hit forty-two weeks.”

Mesa lays a hand on Nana’s forearm and laughs. “Can you imagine?”

“What was her name?” I ask under my breath.

Nana doesn’t hear my question and continues telling the story to Mesa. “One time, I almost had a heart attack. She came riding into the backyard on a dang horse, just smiling away. I think she was five months at that time?—”

“What was her name?” I ask again, slightly louder this time.

“Oh.” She turns toward me and scrunches her nose. “Let me think. My memory is terrible these days.”

“I remember that girl. We planted those flowers after she left, remember?” Mesa’s mom chimes in, taking a seat at the table to join the conversation. “Her name was Iris.”

I set the glass on the table carefully, but it still sounds as loud as thunder in my ears.

Mesa covers her mouth. She looks at me, but my eyes move to scan the front door, the scuffs near the light switch in the living room, and the floors.

My lips part like I might speak, but no sound comes out. Mesa stands and slowly steps up beside me. She takes my hand, and I finally look at her. Instead of panicked shock, she smiles. A puff of air leaves my mouth as I shake my head in wonder.

I stuff my free hand in my pocket and clear my throat. “It sounds like that girl may have been my mother.”

The room falls silent like they’d all been eavesdropping. Nana eyes me from head to toe with a skeptical gleam in her eye. Eventually, she studies just my face, pursing her lips and tilting her head.

“How old are you?”

“Almost thirty-two,” I answer.

She nods. “What’s your last name?”

“Lathan.”

She nods again, much slower this time. “Have a seat, then. I’ll tell you all about it. Mesa? We’re going to need a lot of dessert at the table and something better than water to drink.”

Nana winks at me as I sit beside her. Instead of pinching my cheek or talking to me in a baby voice, she pats the top of my hand with her slender fingers.

“Isn’t this something?” she whispers so that only I can hear. “Since my granddaughter has told me some things about you, and I knew your sweet mother, I hope you don’t mind me saying that, if she were here, Iris would be fiercely proud of you.”

I swallow hard, but my eyes don’t well up. In fact, I’m shocked at how her words simply make me smile. My shoulders feel light, and I lean forward to rest my folded arms on the table.

Two hours later, Nana is harassing me through the passenger window of Ms. Riley’s SUV. She points a finger at me, and I don’t have to wonder where Mesa’s gumption came from.

“You listen to me, young man,” she scolds. “I’ll be dead soon. Bring my granddaughter, and you both come to see me at least once a month, you hear?”

“I hear you,” I answer with a chuckle. “We’ll come once a month. Promise.”

“For goodness sake, Nana,” Mesa cuts in. “You aren’t even that old. Quit telling people that you’re going to die soon.”

Nana winks, and I wave as they pull out of the drive. They’re the last ones to leave, and I feel bad that I spent the entire time talking to Nana rather than making sure Mesa was properly doted on. I arranged this entire party for her .

We walk toward the house holding hands, and the setting sun behind us casts our shadows on the ground, surrounded by an orange glow.

“You okay?” she asks.

I stop in front of the arched door, turning her toward me and hooking a hand around her hip. She laughs when I pull her to press against me and dip my head to kiss her jaw.

“I’m just fine,” I answer between two more kisses. “I’m better than I have ever been in my entire life, Mace.”

I grew up learning to live without. No home felt like it was truly mine. No parents or other family. No real direction. Until I was pulled to this little West Texas town that has given me everything.

I used to resent the fact that I was never given the things I longed for growing up, even into my early adult years.

But I think there was a reason my life has unfolded exactly as it has so far.

Maybe it was so I’d end up here and gain three brothers, the love of my life, and something that connects me to my mom.

I wouldn’t have been led here or have any of those things if my life had been easy. Now that I have them, I wouldn’t give them up. Not for a different childhood. Not for anything.

“I think I’ll keep you,” I say, kissing her on the lips.

“I think I’ll let you,” Mesa counters. It’s the same answer she gave me yesterday, the day before that, and every other day I’ve told her I’d be keeping her.

She tucks her hands beneath my shirt and runs her palms up my back. I pull away to look at her face again. My fingers thread through her hair, and she smiles up at me.

If I ever find myself doubting where I belong, one smile like that from her will shut me up real quick. Seeing it now, I know with certainty—I belong right here, making a life with her.

And I have never looked forward to anything more.