I turn back around and focus on the cattle. It’s taking everything in me not to turn around and go to her.
Why is my urge to comfort her, protect her, so strong? Except for that one night of incredibly hot sex, I don’t know her anymore. And I don’t want to know some disloyal, uptight snob like her.
I used to see her as an annoying little sister, until that night in Texas. Is that why I feel the need to go to her? Because of who she used to be?
Nah, that’s ridiculous. It’s clear that she’s not that same girl anymore, and she’s a Bishop. She’ll turn on me the first chance she gets. It’s better that I forget our past and see her for who she is today.
Uptight, opinionated, hoity-toity spoiled brat.
When I hear the truck door open, I turn around and start toward the barn, hoping that she doesn’t realize I was standing at the fence watching her like a creep. Come to think of it, maybe I should have stayed put. The movement startles her, and I hear her suck in a breath.
“Shit, I didn’t see you there,” she gasps.
“Just checking the cattle.”
“I see that,” she mumbles.
Even in the twilight and the dim lighting of my security poles, I can tell that she’s been crying. I want so badly to reach out and touch her face, wipe away those tears.
Knock it off, Wade.
“How many ranches did you visit?”
“I only made it to Dad’s. I didn’t think of how hard it would be…” She stops abruptly as if she is only now realizing that she’s having a civil conversation with me.
“Probably rough to be back in the house without your mom there,” I say offhandedly as I start walking toward the barn again.
She falls into step beside me, surprisingly.
“It was.”
“She was a good woman. The glue that held that ranch together, a lot of the town, too. Mom talks about her all the time still.”
“Howareyour parents?”
“They’re good. Pops might have an aneurysm when he finds out you’re here.”
“Should I…?” she asks as she starts to turn around.
“No,” I chuckle as I reach out to stop her.
I immediately rip my hand back like I’ve been burned.
That wasn’t obvious or anything.
“Mom will be thrilled to see you, and that’s what counts. She runs the show. Dad will get over it, especially if it helps us figure out what’s causing the issues with the herd.”
“I hate that with everything that happened between our fathers that our mothers lost each other.”
“They didn’t,” I say with a smile. “Mom will deny it, but I caught the two of them having lunch after church a few towns over one day when I was on a parts run. They were still best friends and still in constant contact.”
She stops and looks back up at me. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, since Dad disowned me and she was still going to see me. I do know that your mom came to the funeral home before Mom’s service, and…she’s a good human.”
I nod. I didn’t know that, but I’m not surprised. I guess I didn’t know that her dad disowned her, either.
That had to be rough.
Is that why she left Hicks Creek to begin with? I feel a pang of guilt for automatically assuming it’s because she thought she was better than the rest of us. Here I thought she wasn’t loyal and betrayed her own family, when in reality, she was just dealing with the aftermath of her father’s ego?
