She’s My Kind Of Rain (Rawlings Ranch #1)

Chapter 18

18

DAISY - JUNE 25, 2004

I knew the time would come when I would have to elaborate on my dad’s passing and why I came to Nashville with little to no plan, but I never really imagined I’d be sitting on the steps of a monument with a little bit of liquid courage and the biggest crush I’ve ever had while talking about it.

There’s never a good time to talk about death, but, I figure now is as good of a time as any to explain my reaction to the song Sawyer chose to sing when I first saw him. The words just start pouring out of me, something about talking to him feels easy—though it could be the fact that I drank more than I should have, or that the song feels like some kind of connection we both share. Either way, I feel like I can tell him anything. At least in this moment.

At first, the words flow from me rather easily, but the more I speak the harder it gets. I’ve bottled up this pain for so long, that now as I finally share it, there is no holding back all the tears. With every word I speak, I become closer and closer to the realization that my life had been beautiful and perfect in every way before I lost my dad. Something I didn’t mean to take for granted, but I did.

As I sit here, crying in Sawyer’s arms, I think about how many more times I should have told my dad I loved him, or how many times I acted out of line—as kids do—and what I wouldn’t give to take those moments back. To spend one last time with my dad as he sang his heart out, as he slowed the room and made everyone listen, just like Sawyer recently did.

I don’t even know why, but I want Sawyer to know me, to truly know who I am in the hope that he will understand what my dad means to me and how much music means to me because of him.

My entire world had shattered into a million broken pieces when he’d died. I had watched the life drift out of the one person I’d always aspired to be. The person that held me when I was sad. Made me feel okay when I wasn’t. The person that helped shape me into who I am before he himself had even known who I was.

Only the sound of my sobs fill the space between us. I lean my head into his chest, and he holds me as I cry. And it is not out of pity, I’ve known and seen pity since my dad’s death. No, this is pure, genuine compassion. I can feel it deep in my soul. My tears slow, and I realize how much I needed this moment, and how lucky I am that I am being met with compassion instead of avoidance.

I dry my eyes and take a huge breath while Sawyer releases his hold on me.

“Thank you for not being freaked out by all that.” I laugh softly, a hint of sadness still in my tone.

“Feelings aren’t anything to shy away from. I don’t like seeing how sad this makes you, but I do like knowing every piece of you.” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

I release yet another breath, this time feeling a little bit more whole thanks to Sawyer.

“So, now that you know why I love music, how about you? What drove you to sing?”

“Well, I actually didn’t grow up here either. I got in trouble for hitting a kid, and ended up breaking his nose.”

I can tell in his tone that he—to this day—doesn’t regret hitting whoever he’s talking about.

His expression looks slightly embarrassed. “I swear, I haven’t hit anyone since. He was the school bully, and, long story short, he pushed me one day. I just so happened to land the one and only punch of the entire fight. I don’t know who was more surprised by what happened, him or me.” A gentle laugh escapes his lips. “Anyways, the school was going to allow us both back, but my family collectively decided I should finish out the year living with my Pops.”

A soft smile crosses his face at the mention of his grandpa. It must be contagious, because my lips pull up into a smile of my own.

“Once I moved here, I worked on his ranch and decided to finish up the rest of high school in an accelerated program that they offered. I honestly just enjoyed being with him, and it was a bit hard to make friends at school so late in the year.” A breath releases from his chest. “My Pops was my favorite person, much like your dad was for you, and he’s also the reason I love music. I was never a big feelings person in the sense that I shared them out loud, but I’ve always really cared about how others felt, and how I made them feel. I don’t like the idea of hurting people. Especially for no reason…hence the lack of girlfriends.” He gives me a look, mentioning the earlier conversation we had.

I just nod. For whatever reason, it just seems to make sense.

“When my Pops and I were finished with chores or if I had a hard day for whatever reason, he would pull out his guitar and sing any song that came to mind at the time. He knew how to play just about any request you could ever imagine. He was amazing.”

He smiles, and the look in his eyes when he talks about his grandpa makes me wish I could know him, or, at the very least, thank him for shaping the man sitting before me. I mean, he literally let me sob and showed not a single sign of judgment.

“It was never really about what he played, but more so the impression it left on my heart. Music feels like magic. On a bad day, it can help make me feel better, and even on a good day, it feels like a high you can’t get anywhere else.”

His eyes shine a bit more with each mention of his grandpa, and he rubs them as if to ward off the tears that linger behind his tough exterior.

“He always knew owning a ranch might not be my dream, but he also knew I preferred to put those I love before myself, so when he found out he was sick—he had cancer.” He lets out a deep sigh, a sad look overwhelming his features for a moment. “After that, he sold all of his cattle. He made sure I didn’t feel for even one moment like I had to make the ranch my forever job. I can’t lie, I’m really glad he did that, because I wasn’t really sure what I wanted and him doing that gave me the chance to decide.”

Any bit of sadness seems to fade as he continues, “He left me everything, and I don’t just mean the ranch or his belongings. He left me with a heart that knows what real love is, and a heart filled with music. I can never thank him enough.” He takes a moment to ponder, then chuckles. “Oh, and Rhett, that son of a bitch, is my Pops reincarnated, at least all his good traits.”

I laugh too, because in the short time I’ve known Rhett, I can see some of the traits Sawyer might not wish to be thrown onto his grandpa’s image, specifically his confident, borderline arrogant demeanor or overly flirtatious personality.

“He’s the one who said ‘let’s make ya famous’. So that’s the only reason I took music to the stage. But, honestly, he came into my life at the right time, because if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.”

The grin on his face is larger than it’s ever been in my time knowing him—not that it’s been long. He leans in and gives me another kiss, and I know without a doubt that this man is something special. I kiss him back, lingering on how good this entire night has been all because of, yet again, another spilled drink.

“On to more pressing questions,” I joke, because we both have been so vulnerable tonight and I think it’s best to shift the conversation to anything else. “Do you have any pets?”

He laughs. “Yeah, careful, don’t get too personal. I have a horse. His name is Wrangler.”

“Stop. You have a horse?” I practically leap off the steps with excitement. “I haven’t been around horses much, but they are, like, one of my absolute favorite animals.”

“Want to meet him?” A sly look appears in his eyes.

“Can I ride him?” I give the biggest doe eyes I can muster in the hopes that his only answer will be a yes.

He pulls me in, gives me a kiss and whispers, “You can have whatever you want.”