“We could be a family together,” she said. “Me and him, and then neither of us are alone, and it doesn’t matter where our blood comes from.”
Kristie had said something similar when Briar had talked to her about her parents not attending her wedding. She lifted her head and navigated to those texts now, needing the reassurance of them.
Honestly, Kristie said.It was a much better wedding without them there. If they had come, it would’ve been so stressful, and I would’ve been on-edge the whole time.
They’d chatted a little bit about that, and then Kristie had said,I’m not sure I made the right decision by reaching out to them. They know where I am, and they can reach out to me any time they want—and they don’t.
Briar’s situation wasn’t exactly like Kristie’s, especially since her parents didn’t know where she was. They didn’t have her phone number. For all they knew, she’d fled the continent and could be anywhere.
She sat there with those thoughts, the way she had in the past, trying to find how she felt about these facts.
She arrived right back where she’d been before bringing up this topic with Tarr. “I don’t miss them,” she whispered. “I know that’s sad, but I don’t. I don’t want to be the Briar I was in Canada. I can’t go back, and I don’t want anyone from that time of my life in this chapter of it.”
Her resolve to not reach out to her parents solidified, and Briar wasn’t doing it out of spite or hurt. “Or preservation,” she murmured. It simply felt like the right thing to do, and she knew that sometimes those things morphed and shifted as time went on. So what felt right today might change in five years, or ten, or twenty.
When Briar thought that far ahead, she saw herself on this farm, with a dog, and maybe a cat, and all of Bobbie Jo’s goats.
And Tarr?
“Yes,” she said as the picture came into clear focus. “Yes, Tarr is there with me. I’m with him.”
She closed her eyes and let the fantasies roll through her head as if someone had made a movie of her future just for her.
Do you love him?
That question rolled through her body and soul, and Briar tried to riddle through the complicated emotions, former promises she’d made to herself, and miles of fear to find the answer.
She wasn’t sure, but as Tarr’s words filled her ears again—I’m in love with you, Briar. I know you’re lovable, because I love you—Briar decided she didn’t have to know the answers to every question that entered her mind.
She knew she wanted Tarr in her life long-term. She wanted him to be her family. She didn’t want to be alone anymore, and more specifically, she wanted to share every aspect of her life with none other than Tarr Olson.
Now, she just needed him to come back so she could tell him.
forty
Tarr rode in the saddle of his personal horse, a pretty black and white mare named Skunk. She cut like a champion, and while Tarr didn’t use her for real cowboy activities, she’d been a loyal friend and amazing horse for roping in the rodeo as well.
She was tall and strong, and Tarr hadn’t ridden her enough this winter. Now, with the fields in front of him looking so much like the Texas range where he’d grown up, Tarr could function on autopilot, letting Skunk wander where she wanted to wander.
Tarr’s thoughts did the same thing, and he simply breathed in the fresh air, glad April had finally given way to May. It would likely rain a lot this month, but Tarr would take rain over snow any day of the week.
Besides, he’d be moving into his house next weekend anyway, and then the weather could do whatever it wanted. He’d have a solid roof over his head, and a functioning furnace, air conditioner, hot water heater, and full-sized appliances. The wind could blow, and the rains could lash the windows, and Tarr would put on his slicker, his cowboy hat, and get in his truck—parked in a garage.
A smile touched his face, because he’d missed having a garage more than anything else about living in a permanent structure.
Plus, he knew Tuck wanted the trailers gone from the side of the arena, and Tarr didn’t want to annoy his best friend for any longer than necessary.
After all, Bobbie Jo’s parents were still in the mansion, despite Tucker and Bobbie Jo’s efforts to help them rent or buy somewhere else. Heck, Tuck had even offered to build them their own little cabin down on the main highway.
Tarr hadn’t heard what the final decision was on that, and he made a mental note to ask Tucker—not that he usually had to ask. Tuck would text him, vent everything out, and Tarr would find a way to make everything okay.
Right now, he turned Skunk back toward the farm, the dotting of goats in the distance giving him the picture-perfect view of his small-town life. He sighed, because he couldn’t be unhappy with views like this, and yet, Tarr was the most unhappy he’d ever been.
A sting ran through his bloodstream, making every vein and vessel constrict painfully. Every breath hurt his lungs, because it expanded them against his bleeding heart.
“You’re so stupid,” he muttered to himself. Skunk picked up the pace, probably sensing his shift in mood and not liking it. He shushed her, wishing it would calm him too. He had to be in the right frame of mind to train and work with horses, and Tarr seriously wanted to pack a bag and leave the farm for a little while.
“That’s not going to work,” he told himself. He’d gone and fallen all the way in love with her, and he’d have to deal with the consequences of that.
