Cowgirl Up 2 (Sequel) ✔️

Chapter Thirty

I wasn't thinking about where I was going or what I was doing as I walked towards the main house, from where I'd parked my Ute out the front.
The three dogs were crowded around my legs as the wrought iron gate clanged shut behind me.
Out of nowhere the Rooster blared his morning greeting, making me groan and startling Zuke who took off toward the house's back door in fright.
I guess he's not consciously heard the noise yet, being he's normally curled up asleep inside the cottage at this hour of the night/morning.
Only as I opened the back door, did I finally register that there was a glow of light filtering into the back entrance from the kitchen.
Somebody was up.
My day was seriously about to be messed up.
I was coming to the house, hoping to get some rest, except the day was about to start.
How long was that drama at the cottage actually going for all up?
Surely not that much time has passed...
Zuke and Zeus jogged ahead of me into the kitchen, their tails wagging in greeting.
Azlan, being his usual respectful self, walked alongside but just behind me, trailing me like an obedient shadow.
My downcast eyes landed on scuffed boots and faded blue jeans.
Swallowing audibly, I lifted my gaze until I came across my Grandpa's frowning face.
Isaiah Harley is known for being a hardworking, fair man.
But there's one thing he won't tolerate.
His family being messed with.
I swallowed hard and physically resisted the urge to lift my hands to wipe at the tears I could feel on my cheeks.
If I did that, it would draw Grandpa's attention to them.
But he's a Farmer, so he notices things.
"What the hell are you doin' up?"
Grandpa asked, wearing a questioning frown.
I opened my mouth, but my scratchy threat and seemingly dry tongue meant no words came out.
I stood there like a fish out of water while Grandpa's green eyes clouded with a look of concern.
"What's with the entourage?"
Grandpa quietly asked, nodding towards Zeus and Azlan.
"They wanted to come up..."
I finally managed.
Grandpa placed his hands on his jeans clad hips, his jaw locked as his green eyes drilled into me.
"You know, Bailey Grace, that on most things I mind my own business."
You didn't have to be a genius to hear the 'but' that was unspoken.
"I don't wanna talk about it."
I croaked, shaking my head while stinging tears assaulted the back's of my eyelids yet again.
Haven't I cried enough for one damn day?!
Apparently not...
Even through my tear filled eyes, I could see the strain on my Grandfather's expression as he watched me and pursed his lips.
"Is Blayze okay?"
Grandpa finally asked, cocking his head to the side.
Of course, being he's my Grandpa, he'd eventually find the right words that set me off.
It felt like somebody grappled onto my heart with an iron clad fist once again.
My throat burned with a relentless torrent of tears.
My chest felt constricted once again and my breaths were coming short all over again.
Salty tears streamed from my eyes and slid down my cheeks, leaving wet tracks in their wake.
I shook my head, feeling like I was a robot and somebody had pressed a 'shake head' button.
Even through my tears I could see Grandpa's face twist into a grim expression of resignation.
He removed his hands from his hips and crossed the kitchen to pull me into a loving hug, that only that of a family member or closed loved one could provide.
I tried hard to not let my tears fall as I buried my face into the familiar worn button down shirt that encased my Grandpa's familiar chest.
But that didn't mean that the tears didn't still fall silently and my shoulders didn't shake.

Blayze has worked so hard over the last years to prove himself to be a reliable, trustworthy and hard working man.
I didn't want to tell Grandpa that since the accident I was pretty positive Blayze was falling apart.
It would ruin the image he's managed to create for himself.
But he'd find out sooner or later, because he cares about Blayze and would check on him at one point or another.
"It probably ain't gonna taste like your Grandma's."
Grandpa muttered as he set a gently steaming mug in front of me.
I offered him my best semblance of a smile and wrapped my hands around the warm mug.
"So tell me what's goin' on."
Grandpa insisted, sliding himself into a chair opposite mine.
I shook my head and lifted the mug to take a careful sip of the brew.
Grandpa might be worried about his tea making skills, but the taste that hit my tongue certainly wasn't bad.
"You might be eighteen now Darlin' but that don't mean you're not my Granddaughter anymore."
Grandpa's slightly gravelly voice declared as he tried to talk quietly so as not to wake anybody else in the house up.
But, I knew that if Grandpa was already up and motivated, it wouldn't be that long until Grandma and Mum would materialise.
Then the hired hands would follow.
I could feel my Grandfather's eyes trained on my face as I studiously focused on my gently steaming warm drink.
"Has Blayze scared you?"
Grandpa finally questioned.
Scared me?
To an extent.
But I could hardly tell Grandpa that.
Who knew what Grandpa would do if he believed Blayze had scared me?
I lifted my once again tear glistened eyes to look at Grandpa's serious and concerned face.
"I'm worried about him."
I croaked, my heart clenching in discomfort as my mind showed me flashes of the earlier scenes in the cottage.
"Did he keep drinking after the funeral services?"
Grandpa questioned, a frown marring his brow.
Swallowing hard against the thickness forming in my throat, I nodded.
Grandpa clenched his jaw and shook his head, his gaze dropping to the glossy wooden tabletop.
"He didn't drink much in terms of Blayze."
I whispered in an attempt to explain my thoughts, feelings and I guess even my actions considering I'd rocked up at the house at something like 4am.
"But he's taking the pills the Doctor's prescribed?"
Grandpa asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
I nodded.
Grandpa sighed, the release of air causing his shoulders to sag.
I frowned, now feeling even more confused.
Blayze wasn't meant to be on the painkillers anymore?
Why not?
He's quite clearly still hurting...
"How many is he taking?"
Grandpa asked, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the tabletop, his chin resting on his fists.
How many?
I had no idea.
I wasn't watching Blayze's every move.
I just knew it seemed like he was having them a lot.
Plus drinking...
"You don't need to look at me like that."
I snapped my eyes up to look at my Grandpa's face, my heart pounding in my chest.
"You forget I was once a part of the Rodeo world."
Grandpa explained.
"I've seen it before. A bloke gets in a wreck, he's hurtin' physically, mentally and emotionally and can't or won't admit it. Pills and booze seem like the answer."
My heart just about stopped in my chest.
Grandpa thinks Blayze is in some serious kind of trouble revolving around the pain relief and alcohol?
"He- he's n-not that bad."
I stammered, hastily and automatically attempting to have Blayze's back.
"The way you walked in here at four AM with his dogs in tow tells me otherwise."
Grandpa denied, his green eyes staring straight into my blue knee.
An automatic flood of hot tears welled in my eyes once again, the saltiness burning my throat.
"Why don't you head on into your old room and get some rest eh?"
Grandpa suggested, giving his head a subtle tilt towards the hallway archway.
I bit into my slightly trembling lower lip and shook my head.
"I've got s-school today."
I whispered.
"You've got time to take a nap."
Grandpa insisted, jerking his head in the direction of my old bedroom.
I could imagine my head weighing into the soft textures of my pillows, my familiar mattress taking on the tired weight of my body.
Really it was an offer that was hard to refuse.
"Okay."
I whispered, giving in.
Grandpa nodded.
I climbed my way out of my chair and walked around the end of fine table to stoop and give my Grandfather a grateful hug.
"Get some rest Darlin'."
Grandpa urged, running my back in a tender way that reminded me of my childhood.
"You'll feel ready to give that boy a stern kick up the arse once you've recharged."
In an ideal world.
But, if Blayze really was in some kind of trouble, maybe nothing I did or said would have an impact.
"Get to sleep before this house gets loud."
Grandpa urged.
"Make sure somebody wakes me my seven in case my alarm doesn't go off."
I requested, taking a slow step backward.
Grandpa nodded.