We silently cleaned up. I waited until we were both back in bed before I turned out the light. When it was dark, I could cuddle against him since we often woke up that way. But tonight, there was a weird distance between us since we’d climaxed together.
Had I done something wrong?
Was I overthinking it all? He had to get up early again tomorrow and miss more work. Maybe he was stressing.
The thought didn’t seem quite right.
“I’m sorry I won’t get you pregnant.” His words were quiet in the dark.
Surprised, I stared at the dark wall. He had drawn away because of me? “I understand.” Since he was vulnerable, I could expose myself a little more. I might’ve ranted about how I wasn’t naive, but at the same time, I was. “It was silly of me to think you’d plant the seed and move on as if you gave zero fucks.” He’d care deeply about a kid. Was that what scared him?
“A lot of guys do.”
“Not you.”
“No. I couldn’t. You’d be a good mom.”
Heat poked the backs of my eyes. I wanted a family, but I didn’t want to sacrifice who I was. I wanted what my parents had had. Mama Starr and Daddy Bjorn had been committed to each other. He could’ve left Mama Starr with four young kids. Same with Mama Starr. But they’d stuck together through the hard times until the end. Not only had they been each other’s support, but they’d kept the gravity of our situation to themselves.
Then there were my Bailey parents. So damn dedicated to each other. A solid foundation. Yes, I wanted kids. But I wanted a partner in life more. I wanted someone to share laughs with, someone to vent to, someone to commiserate with. I wanted that support. To be loved for me.
Could I be a single mom? Yes. And I’d probably be a good one. I was fortunate to have a huge support system. But that was only a part of my dream.
“Thank you,” I said. Was this one of those times I should tell him the same? “For what it’s worth, the fact that you care means you’d probably be a good?—”
“No. I wouldn’t. I’m too much like my dad.”
“Gideon.” I was reaching for him when he rolled over, giving me the broad, shadowed expanse of his back.
“Good night, Autumn.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Gideon
I staggered toward Mae’s house. My legs and ass—hell, my entire core—were sore in a way they hadn’t been in my entire memory. I was both stiff from the previous day and sore from a fresh ten hours in the saddle. The pastures today had had a lot more brush, and a couple of those infuriating hunks of living leather liked to hide.
Tate slapped me on the back. He was just as uptight when he worked, yet there was a casual air about him now. He was serious, diligent, but the ranch was his element. It was likely the same at the distillery. It’d been me and the sale issue that had made him tenser than normal.
I had that effect at my job too.
Except for today. No one had treated me differently than anyone else. When a cow had charged through a copse of trees and I’d gone in after it,getting bitch-slapped by dried branches, they’d had a good laugh. And likewise for me when it had happened to them.
Tate said we’d be done tomorrow. One more day. Then I’d have work from sunup until sundown at my laptop. As if on cue, my phone buzzed. I checked the message just in case it was from Autumn. She’d sent one earlier, saying the plan for the pizza party was still on and she’d be home late.
The new message was from Taya.Seriously. Can you just fucking call? It’s sort of about work.
Sort of about work? That was new, but it still didn’t answer why she couldn’t email. Since she’d given me a tidbit, I gave her a partial answer.I’m wrapped up in something. I’ll call when I can.
I tucked my phone in my pocket and followed the crew inside. Myles and Wynter weren’t out today. Scarlett had brought the kids to Mae’s. When the door opened, the shouts that came out sounded like ten kids were in the house instead of three.
“Grandma?” Chance said, his voice cracking. I barely remembered that age or the whole puberty thing. My mom had just died and the time period was a fog of doing what needed to be done with an increasingly self-pitying dad. “Where do you want this?”
When I entered and the crowd cleared, I found Chance helping Mae put food on the table.
She waved us in. “Come, come. The little ones were ready to charge the table. Chance would’ve led the way.”
Yes. I recalled those days. The constant hunger among the dwindling supply of groceries. Roaming the kitchen while my stomach gnawed at me. And then waking up, only to scrape the remnants of peanut butter out of the jar to cobble together another PB&J.
