Anna J. - The Rancher's Homecoming

He knew what he should be drawing on, but the idea of writing about Maura, about her illness, her death, scraped his heart raw whenever he plucked the first notes. The paralyzing grief over losing his wife had faded—for the most part. He’d come to terms with her being gone, but only because he didn’t have a choice.

Rosie needed him. And when it came to his daughter, nothing else mattered.

Sadly, that meant going back to the only thing he’d ever been any good at: songwriting and performing.

“What do you mean you’re not ready?” Felix moved around the band as they dodged around him, instruments in hand, semipanicked expressions on their far too young faces. “All evidence to the contrary, man. You belong on that stage. Look, Chance, I get it. This is tough, and it’s a big change for you, but you and I agreed you weren’t done. You promised after enough time passed—”

“You don’t get to decide when I’ve had enough time.” Chance stopped with his hand on the tarnished doorknob and looked over his shoulder. “What’s this really about, Felix? You threatening to jump ship if I don’t get on board? Have another hot new act waiting in the wings for your full attention?”

Felix shook his head, a bit too enthusiastically for Chance’s taste, as a strand of slicked-black hair fell over one suddenly anxious eye. “Not full attention, exactly.”

“Felix?” Chance urged. “We’ve been together long enough for you to be honest with me.” Lord knew Chance had certainly been honest with him. “I know it’s been tight for you with me taking this much time off right when things were getting good for us. But you knew when you signed me Maura was my top priority.” And she had been, right up until the end. Only now that the haze around his heart had cleared did Chance have the slightest inclination to perform again. Writing was a different story. “You have somewhere else you need to be, just say the word.”

“I’ve come across a couple of acts I’d like to sign, sure.” Felix shrugged as if they didn’t matter much. “One’s singing in a club in New York, another group out of Orlando. There’re...possibilities.”

And Felix was all about possibilities. “I’m not going to begrudge you needing to move on,” Chance said. “I’d never want to stand in your way.”

Losing his agent certainly didn’t hold much appeal, especially without another one showing any interest. And no one would as long as he didn’t have anything new to offer. Felix had been his only agent, and traversing this crazy music business had never been on the top of Chance’s to-do list. Then again, anything was better than being stuck back on the family ranch, saddling horses, baling hay and mucking out stalls while his dreams died a silent death. Maura had always been the one to believe in him, encourage him. Understand him.

Other than his grandmother Dorothy, Big E’s first wife, who had bought him his first guitar—a guitar his grandfather had ripped out of Chance’s hands after Dorothy left and Chance declared his intention of leaving ranch life behind. How Big E thought taking away the one thing that brought Chance any happiness would punish anyone other than Chance was beyond him. Then again, Big E had considered Chance’s dreams a phase he’d outgrow. Without his brothers’ support, the wedge between Chance and his family had grown too big to overcome. Which was why ten years away didn’t feel nearly long enough.

“Maybe we should talk about this inside,” Felix said with a bit of a cringe on his face as he gestured to the dressing-room door.

“Oh, hey, Chance! Great show!” Greg Kennedy, owner of Tuned Up, one of the lesser known but better respected dive bars in downtown Los Angeles, darted down the stage stairs and headed for him. His compliment sounded forced, even to Chance’s tone-deaf ears. “Did your brother find you? I told him he could wait backstage for you.”

Chance froze. “My brother?” Every teenage insecurity slammed back at him like a slingshot. “Which brother?” Please don’t let it be Ty. Please don’t let it be...

“Which one?” Greg chuckled. “That’s right, I forgot you have four. I think his name was—”

Chance jumped back as the door swung open. “Ty.”

“What’s going on, baby brother?” That twinkle-eyed grin was always the first thing anyone noticed about Chance’s twin. That and the way he could charm the stickers off a cactus with a wink and a smile. That his brother appeared to have traded in his tailored executive suit for more cowboy-friendly attire set every warning bell in Chance’s head to clanging. Nothing good ever came of a Blackwell brother showing up. “Been a while.” Ty aimed that smile of his at the almost five-year-old in his arms.

“Daddy! It’s Uncle Ty! See?” Rosie, all bouncy red curls, freckled nose and skinny arms, patted her hands against Tyler’s cheeks as she blew a raspberry. “He’s funny, Daddy! Just like you!”

“Just like me, huh?” As disappointed as Chance was in Felix’s reaction, and as irritated as he was by his brother’s unexpected arrival, everything about his beautiful Rosie made him smile. “Where’s Claudia?” Chance handed his guitar to Felix before he reached for his little girl. The instant she settled in his arms, his pulse calmed. His world righted itself. He could breathe again.

“I’m here!” The graduate student from UCLA who had been Rosie’s nanny for the last year leaned over to peek and wave from behind Tyler. “Tyler was just telling us all about your ranch in Montana. It sounds amazing.”

“A ranch with horsies and cows, Daddy,” Rosie told him with a firm nod. “And Uncle Ty says there are kitties and a dog and a goat named Billy. And when I come visit I get to learn to ride and maybe even rope! But I will need boots. I would like pink boots, please. When can we go visit the kitties and dog, Daddy?”

Chance patted his daughter on the back of her purple shirt and stifled the familiar urge to strangle his brother. “Why don’t you let me talk to Uncle Ty about that? Claudia? Would you mind taking Rosie out for a bit? Maybe you can listen to the next band. Felix will go with you.” The last thing he needed, or wanted, was for his two worlds—however detached he was from one of them—to collide. “Just hang on for a sec.”

Chance pushed past his brother and ducked into the room. He rummaged through one of Rosie’s bags and pulled out her pink headphones. Like a seasoned pro, Rosie snatched them and plunked them over her ears.

“Okay, Daddy?” she yelled.

Chance laughed and nodded. “Go with Claudia, okay?” He set her on her feet, tugged up her jeans, which were too short in the legs and too big in the butt, and exchanged his daughter for the guitar. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Felix didn’t look convinced as Rosie grabbed his hand. Claudia followed with an expression of uncertainty on her round face. “But we still have to talk about this.”

“Looking forward to it.” Chance set down his guitar, watched as Rosie skipped her way between his agent and nanny and quietly, slowly, closed the door. “What are you doing here, Ty?”

“If you answered your phone once in a while this might not be such a surprise.” Ty dropped down into the ripped, green faux-leather sofa that was wedged tightly between the walls. “Man, this place is a hole. I thought showbiz was supposed to be glamorous.”

“It can be.” But starting over meant starting at the bottom and it didn’t get more bottom than where Chance was standing at the moment. “Out with it already. What’s Big E done now?” He busied himself gathering up the books and games strewn about that Claudia and Rosie had occupied themselves with during his show. Right now all he wanted was the safe, quiet surroundings of the small two-bedroom bungalow he called home.