I force my tired ass out of bed and into the shower; the warm spray helps wash away the grogginess. I throw on a pair of worn jeans and a black fitted t-shirt and call it good. I find Brighton in the kitchen, head over a huge bowl of cereal, serving spoon in one hand and his phone in the other.

He stops chewing long enough for a simple “Morning,” and resumes the consumption of what looks like an entire box of Fruity Pebbles. Bastard, those are my favorite.

I settle for Pop-Tarts. “I have a delivery at ten. What are you getting into today?”

“You off tonight?” His mouth is still full and the visual is almost enough to make me lose my appetite, almost.

I hope so. “Yeah, as long as everyone shows up for their shift. I’m ready for a night off.”

Brighton picks up his bowl, or should I say trough, and slurps the remaining milk. “It feels like we have been going non-stop for the past couple of months. The renovations are complete, and the staff is hired and trained. Now it’s time to kick back and supervise.”

“I’m in. What were you thinking?” I ask, because I know he has something brewing in that brain of his. Brighton always has a plan.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand and grins. “I was actually thinking of calling Nicole and seeing if she wanted to meet up somewhere. Maybe Studio 57.”

“Nicole? Is she the one you met at Jacob’s bonfire?” I watch as his grin grows wider and he nods. “You’ve been talking to her?” I question because he has not mentioned anything. We’ve been busy as hell since that night with the renovations to the bar and hiring new staff. How in the hell did he find the time?

“Not really, just a phone call or text here or there. We’ve met at the coffee shop a couple of times. She’s been busy with school; this is her last year. We both said we would like to hang out; it’s just been hard to find the time. Since we’re free tonight, I figured I would call her. I know her roommate is also unattached.” He raises his eyebrows and winks.

A night out sounds awesome, and Studio 57 is always a good time. “You needing a wingman, Bright?” I decide to fuck with him. He seems really into this girl.

This causes him to throw his head back and laugh. “No. Nicole and I have talked enough the past three months, I feel like I know her. However, I’m sure she will want to bring her roommate along. She’s mentioned before that the girl doesn’t get out enough. I want to be able to whisk her off to the dance floor without her feeling guilty. It would help if I also had a friend there to help her not feel left out.”

“I’m in. As long as I’m not the one who has to issue last call, kick out the drunks, clean up, and cash out.” Before I even finish, he has his phone to his ear. I assume calling Nicole to set things up for tonight. It’s been way too long since I’ve been out, and just as long since I have had the sweet release that only a beautiful woman can provide. Studio 57 is just what I need.

I wave as I grab my keys and wallet off the counter. The delivery isn’t going to sign itself in.

BREAKFAST IS DELICIOUS. Neither one of us eat much, but what we do eat, we both comment on how good it is. I was dreading this because of the day, but I have to admit I miss spending time with my dad. He’s the foreman for a road construction crew. His shift is never the same, changing due to the traffic patterns of whatever area they are working in. His job also causes him to travel long distances. More often than not, he will stay out of town until the job is complete. Lucky for him, the company covers all costs. In other words, my dad is one of the guys behind the orange barrels on the highway. After we finish eating, Dad insists on taking me to the mall. I tell him it’s not necessary. I know he lives on one income and I have my part-time job as a tutor to cover what my scholarship doesn’t. Thankfully, it’s enough to allow me and Nicole to share an apartment off campus. Dorm life is not where it’s at. Of course, he blows off my concern and says it’s his God-given right to spoil his little girl.

I learned a while ago that when shopping with my father, you can’t show interest in anything. If he thinks you want it, he buys it. He was the same way with my mother. They both worked hard every day for what they had. Growing up, I knew we were not rich, but we never wanted for anything. I can remember one year I wanted a pair of boots that were expensive. I didn’t ask for them because spending that much on boots is ridiculous. Several of my friends had them, but I just didn’t have it in my heart to ask my parents to spend that kind of money. That year at Christmas, much to my surprise, my boots were under the tree. I was stunned and insisted they were too expensive. Of course, when they said it was nonsense, I tackle-hugged both of them. I can remember Dad plopping down on the couch and pulling Mom into his arms. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and they shared a smile. Mom then said, “Kensi, life is short. You have to live each day to the fullest. You can’t take money with you when you’re gone. You work hard for what you have and enjoy every second of it.” The memory has emotion clogging my throat. I swallow it down. Dad and I are having such a great day; I don’t want to ruin it with tears. Those will come later.

After dragging me in and out of every store, asking if anything catches my eye, I ended up with a new pair of jeans, a sweater, and a scarf. It’s early October and the weather is starting to get cold. We stop on the food court on our way out and grab a slice of pizza. We were in the mall for over five hours. I know what you’re thinking—a man in the mall for five hours? Yes, my father is relentless when he wants to be. He hates to shop, but he loves me and loves to spoil me. My mom used to say that was one of the things she loved about him best. She used to say that behind all the brawn is a heart of gold; he loves with everything in him. She always told me that if I ever found a man like that, I needed to hold on tight with both hands and never let him go.

I see that in my dad. My issue is letting myself get close to anyone else to find out what his heart is made of.

After inhaling our food court pizza, we head to our final destination of the day. My mom loved horses. As soon as we moved here, Dad and I found a riding stable that let you rent a horse for the day. It was something we thought we could do and it would seem like she was with us. We were both reaching for anything that would make us feel closer to her. We stumbled upon a beautiful lake along the trails. The view is serene and I immediately knew Mom would have loved it. Dad agreed and we come back as often as we can. It’s odd to think that coming to a place she has never been makes us feel closer to her, but for me at that time in our lives it worked. I still feel close to her when we are here. I like to think she is watching over us, and she really is.

“I called ahead and reserved Savannah and Charlotte for us today,” my dad says as we pull into the long lane that will lead us to the stables.

I’m excited to see the two horses that we have grown attached to. I’m ready to feel like she’s with us. “Awesome. I can’t wait to see them.” And feel close to her. I don’t say that aloud though. Today has gone really well. Both of us have held in the emotions, grounding each other from the pain. My dad is really the only one who has ever been able to do that.

The owner, Ray, as he insists we call him, greets Dad with a man hug and me with a kiss on the cheek. “I got the girls all saddled up and ready for you.”

“Great, thanks,” I say over my shoulder. I’m headed toward the barn. I love horses, love being outdoors really.

A few minutes later, Dad joins me and places the lilies in the saddlebag on his horse. He will be riding Savannah. She is huge; Ray referred to her as being sixteen hands or something of that nature. That’s horse speak for tall. Dad is over six foot, so they work well together. Savannah is a beautiful horse; she is white with red spots. I believe Ray said she is a paint… again more horse speak that I don’t understand but can repeat and sound as though I do. It does kind of look like she has blotches of red paint all over, so I can see the logic in the name.