Read Online Raining Down Rules by B.K. Rivers - Free Book Online Page B

watch as the sun slowly makes its way over the hills off in the distance. I can tell by the way she keeps studying me that she wants to talk about Jordan, but when we’re through eating I grab the plates and clean up quickly, avoiding the conversation altogether. She retreats to her bedroom to bathe and dress and I run upstairs to grab a shower.
    The horses were left out all night and I feel a twinge of guilt for not being there to put them away, but then they seem to be more than happy to have grazed all night. Ranger greets me first as usual and I climb over to nuzzle his neck. He smells like spring, green grass, and heat, and just breathing him in makes my heart swirl in my chest. If only Jordan could be like a horse, uncomplicated and gentle. Somehow, I don’t think that’s in his nature.
    The horses are so content in the pasture I decide to bring their hay and grain to them to eat as they want. I load up the wheelbarrow with the feed and ease my way out of the barn to the pasture where all four of the horses are now eagerly waiting by the fence. I’m greeted with a series of nickers and head tossing and I feel as light as a sparrow.
    As the day progresses, I’m hit with an overwhelming desire to leave the ranch and just get out. I wasn’t able to take Gran on a drive yesterday and maybe it’s just what the two of us need. And she hasn’t been to Grandpa’s grave for almost two weeks. She always likes to go there and have her one-sided conversation. Sometimes I wonder if, after fifty-one years of marriage, Grandpa talks back to her. Maybe his spirit is still here on this Earth, comforting her. She always seems so much more at peace after she’s been to his gravesite, there must be something to her visits.
    It’s hard to believe he’s been gone now for eight years—it doesn’t feel real sometimes. I was only twelve when he died but I still remember the funeral and how hard Gran tried to keep it together for me. In the end, as much as I was grieving him, Gran was the one who needed the comfort. For the next six months, I shared a bed with her as she often cried to herself when she thought I was asleep. I wish there was something more I could have done for her.
    Gran is making sandwiches when I get inside and I can’t help but notice six slices of bread on the counter. She smiles and pats my hip as I place a kiss on her cheek.
    “I can finish these, Gran.” I scoot her out of the kitchen and put together three identical turkey and cheese sandwiches, a plate of plain potato chips, and some of Gran’s canned pears. “Lunch is ready,” I call to the other room.
    “Let’s eat in here today,” Gran answers from her chair. My heart pitter-patters in my chest a little. I still need to see if Gran is feeling all right. I carry the plates to the living room, balancing them on my forearm and hands, almost like I have waitressing experience, which I don’t. Jordan is slouching on the couch with his feet bouncing impatiently and he’s having trouble focusing on the television. Gran has the local news on and as soon as I sit on the other chair a picture of Jordan flashes across the screen.
    Jordan’s eyes widen and mine do as well, I’m guessing for different reasons. The Jordan on the screen is a smiling, happy guy who looks like he’s on top of the world without a care. The Jordan sitting in this room is just a shadow of the other. He’s still handsome and charismatic, but his cheeks are hollow and his eyes are sunken and dark. He’s even thinner than that picture. The anchor reporting the news goes on to say, “World-famous rocker and lead singer of White Shadow, Jordan Capshaw, failed to appear at his scheduled concert in Seattle yesterday evening. It’s rumored Jordan and his band are having creative differences and will be taking some time off to figure things out.”
    The screen flashes back to the anchor who, with his smug grin, continues, “If you ask me, Mr. Capshaw has finally come to his senses