He was heading out in three weeks for Parris Island, the first of us to leave Bellamy Creek and our tight foursome.
We nodded and watched Griffin put those three items in the box.
“It’s a copy of the letter from the Marine Corps telling me when and where to report to boot camp.” “What’s that?” Moretti asked, pointing at the paper. He pulled out his graduation tassels, a photograph of him standing between his dad and grandfather in front of the open hood of an old truck they were restoring, and a folded sheet of paper. “I’ll go,” said Griffin, placing his beat-up backpack on the table and reaching inside it. I had all three, and I’d use them to help my family. My plan was to major in finance, get an MBA, and secure one of those Wall Street jobs where you could make millions if you had the brains, the guts, and the work ethic. We figured anyone else’s family might move someday, but Weaver Ranch had been in my family for over a hundred years and it would be in my family for generations to come. We’d heard about time capsules years ago, in fifth grade social studies class, and all four of us agreed then and there that we were going to do it.Īfter some discussion, we’d agreed that it made the most sense to bury it somewhere on my family’s farm. Since we were kids, my three best friends-Cole Mitchell, Griffin Dempsey, and Enzo Moretti-and I had planned on burying a time capsule the summer after we graduated from high school. Griffin had brought it over, and I’d taken out all the trays so it could serve a different function. Like any cowboy, he’s good with a rope and knows exactly how to tie me up.Īll of us stared at the empty tackle box on my family’s kitchen table. Nothing has ever felt so right, but his past has taught him not to believe in happily ever after, and every perfect night I spend in his arms brings us closer to goodbye. And once we give into each other, we can’t stop. That’s not the only big thing he’s got-which I discover the night I finally sneak across the hall to his bedroom and shed my inhibitions right alongside my pajamas. I only returned to my hometown of Bellamy Creek to sell my late mother’s house, and he just invited me and my son to stay with him because he’s got a big heart. But I’m a single mom trying to move on with my life, and he’s running that ranch single-handedly while taking care of his elderly father. He makes a girl sweat just looking at him.
And who wouldn’t appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest, and the way he fills out a pair of Levis?
Yes, I’ve had a secret crush on him since we were seventeen. Sure, he’s a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take over his family’s ranch. That’s all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been.
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