Chapter 62 Homecoming
The tires of the luxury jet kissed the runway with a muted thud, sending up a cloud of dust that clung to the arid air just as dawn was breaking. The aircraft rolled to a stop at the Kingman private plane terminal, and Sierra’s breath hitched. The building, with its weathered wood and corrugated metal, looked as though it had been plucked from a bygone era. To Julian, it might as well have been an archeological dig site.
He stepped out first, his tailored navy-blue suit and oxfords a jarring contrast to the dust-coated boots of those who typically passed through. A man in a Stetson tipped his hat, passing them on their way to the terminal. Julian returned his greeting with a faint, measured smile, polite but guarded. Sierra followed close behind him, her Prada heels clicking on the concrete.
Julian reached for the handle on the door leading into the terminal. “Just relax in the lounge. I’ll grab a rental car,” he said, holding open the door so she could pass through. She could already feel the weight of his presence, the way his world, polished and effortless, collided with the weathered edges of this one.
She grabbed his arm. “Julian. Stop.” Her voice was soft but commanding. The one she used with clients when she wanted to highlight a particular point. It carried a tone of authority that she didn’t feel.
He met her gaze, but said nothing, waiting for whatever it was she wanted to say.
“This isn’t your world, Julian. You got me here. I’m thankful for that, but you didn’t buy into this.” Her words were a plea, a retraction of every lie she’d told herself about Manhattan, about him. “Go back to your yachts. I can handle this.”
He tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing away a tear. “I’m not a man who runs away from storms, Sierra.”
The rental was a silver Audi Q5. By Kingman standards, it was a luxury SUV, but in Julian’s world, it was less than impressive. Julian raised an eyebrow as he took it in. He opened the door on the passenger side and waited for Sierra to seat herself, then moved around to the driver’s side. He slipped in and closed the door. “Let’s see if I can manage this,” he said. Since he typically had someone drive him wherever he went, it had been a while since he’d actually sat behind the wheel.
“Would you like me to drive?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “This will be something of an adventure, I suppose.”
He guided the car out of the parking structure and onto the street.
She managed a wry smile. “Clunker, by your standards. In Arizona, this SUV is considered extravagant.”
“I can adapt to the simple life,” he responded.
Sierra guided him to the road that led out to the ranch, and then fell silent as the landscape unfolded in a tapestry of ochre and sage. Red mesas loomed in the distance, their edges softened by the rising sun. For years, Sierra had told herself she’d outgrown this view, until Ryder had traced a calloused thumb over her cheek and whispered, “You belong here.” As she watched each familiar feature come toward her and slip by, the wide sky felt like a mirror, reflecting the chasm she’d created.
Julian watched her, his gaze flicking to the rearview mirror where her knuckles whitened against the steering wheel. “You okay?” he asked softly.
“No, but what is there to say?” Her voice cracked. “I spent years convincing myself this place was a cage. That Manhattan was freedom. I left my father to rot, Julian. I left Ryder.”
His silence was answer enough, a rare, quiet strength that cut through her.
The long gravel drive and the ranch house emerged from the horizon like a specter, bleached by years of desert sun. When she saw the familiar dark Ram pickup parked in the ranch yard in front of the house, Sierra’s stomach twisted.
Julian said nothing as he parked the SUV and turned the key to kill the engine.
Cody was already crossing the porch and strolling toward the parked car as they got out. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked older and thinner, as if the new responsibility of running the ranch had carved years into his frame. “Looks like you made it, Si,” he said, stepping toward to wrap her in an embrace. She clung to him for a long moment, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill over the rims of her eyes. He stepped back from their embrace and nodded toward Julian.
“This is Julian.” The nervousness in her voice was unmistakable.
Julian offered a nod as he acknowledged Sierra’s brother. “Cody. Your sister speaks highly of you.”
Cody snorted. “If she does, she’s making up a whole lot of bullshit.” His gaze followed Sierra’s, which had shifted to Ryder’s pickup. “He took us to the hospital the other day when Dad fell. Sat by him and took Dad’s part in convincing the doctors to let him come home. Hasn’t left his side since.”
The words landed like a blow. Ryder had been here doing what she ought to have been doing: tending to her father.
Sierra took a step in the direction of the ranch house and then froze. She slowly turned back toward Julian. She needed to breathe, to face her father alone and she didn’t need to deal with introducing Ryder to Julian. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Julian… stay here.”
He studied her, then nodded. “I’ll be right here.”
She crossed the porch, her pulse a frantic drumbeat. She pulled open the screendoor and allowed her eyes to adjust to the shadow of the living room as she turned her eyes in the direction of what had always been the spare room. Her bedroom, Cody’s bedroom and their father’s bedroom had all been upstairs before her father got sick.
The bedroom door was ajar. She crept toward it, bracing herself as she turned the corner. He was propped against pillows on the brass frame bed, his face gaunt, his hands trembling. A morphine drip snaked to his wrist.
And there beside him was Ryder.
He had a calloused hand on top of her father’s hand. His shirt was rumpled, his jeans faded and stained, and his ranch boots were scuffed, but his posture was unyielding. When he looked up, his green eyes burned with a mix of exhaustion and deep feeling.
“Si,” he croaked.
She stepped closer, the weight of his gaze paralyzing. “Ryder.”
“He’s been asking for you.”
“Cody told me.”
Suddenly aware of her presence, her father’s voice interrupted the awkward words between them. “Si.” His hand trembled as he reached out to her. “You’re here.”
“Daddy.” Her dam broke. The sobs came raw and unrelenting as she collapsed beside him, her forehead pressing to his limp fingers. She could feel Ryder’s eyes on her, warm and aching with everything unsaid, the love she’d fled, the heartbreak she’d left in her wake.
Collapsing into him, Sierra’s tears blurred the lines between past and present. In the quiet rustle of desert wind, between the scent of sage and leather, she wondered if redemption could bloom in the dust, and if love, once lost, could still find a way home.
While Sierra allowed her emotions to flow freely inside, outside, Julian waited, awkwardly taking in the expansive view around them as the sun continued to climb toward its zenith. He fixed his gaze on the screen door Sierra had passed through moments before. Always in control in his own element, he was fascinated by the vastness of the land, the blue clarity of the cloudless sky, and the simplicity of the buildings and corrals, but totally lost. This was a life and lifestyle he knew nothing about.
In the long stretch of silence that followed Sierra’s departure, Cody leaned against the fender of Ryder’s pickup. He took a thin flat cylinder from his shirt pocket, tapped the top several times, and then removed the tin lid. After inserting a generous amount of tobacco between his lip and gum, he replaced the lid and fixed his eyes on Julian. “Hard to believe she belongs here, huh?”