“Hey, it’s all right,” Tarr said.
She shook her head as air finally went in right. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t reach for her or demand she lay back in his arms. She took another breath and looked at the bright screen with colorful pictures that Tarr had pulled up, the video games they had come downstairs to play somehow comforting her in that moment.
“Baby, there are consequences to how I used to be,” she whispered. “And not just that I’m really salty sometimes or that I don’t trust people yet, but, like, physical consequences.”
“All right,” Tarr said, easily.
“Sometimes my hip really hurts,” she said. “And I’m real stubborn about going to the doctor about it. And sometimes?—”
She couldn’t look at him, though she needed to. She took another breath and swallowed. “You know how sometimes my stomach hurts?”
“Yeah,” he said simply.
“It’s not really my stomach,” she said. “It’s my…female stuff. I’m kind of messed up inside. The doctors told me they aren’t sure if I’ll be able to have kids.”
Her voice broke, and Tarr reached for her then. She snuggled back into his chest and let herself cry.
“I didn’t care at the time,” she said, her voice nasally. “Because there was no possible way on this planet that I would ever want a child. But now…now I’m thinking maybe I should go to the doctor and get that stuff figured out.”
“So you do want kids?” he asked, his voice a little rougher around the edges than she’d heard it before.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never considered myself to be very nurturing, and like I said, dating and marriage and kids were never in the cards for me until—” She cut off and reached for her inner well of bravery. “Untilyou, Tarr. You’ve made me think about things and reevaluate them and want something different than I’ve ever wanted before.”
“Good things, I hope,” he said calmly.
“Yeah,” Briar said. “But you should know, Tarr, if one of your goals is to get married and have a family, I might not be able to do that, and you might want to find a woman who can have your kids.”
“Stop it.’”
“What do you mean, stop it?” Briar asked. “It’s a real thing, Tarr. What if I can’t have babies? I’ve known people who’ve broken up because of that. It’s a real thing.”
“I’m not saying it’s not,” he said, that frown coming between his eyes that told her he was thinking. “And while I’d take a baby girl who looked like you any day—even with all your fire and sass and saltiness—there are other ways to build a family.”
His eyebrows went up as he searched her face. “Aren’t there?”
A tear streamed down Briar’s face as she nodded, and Tarr’s composure crumpled. He gently brushed her tears away with his thumb, pure compassion shining in his eyes. “All right, sweetheart. Just lay down. It’s okay.”
He shushed her again the way he would calm a small child or a frightened foal. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s all going to be okay.”
And because Tarr had never given her a reason to doubt him, she believed him.
The first Wednesday of the year arrived, and with it, so did Briar’s watercolor class. She hurried through her morning chores and only made it to half of the animals before she had to leave.
“It just goes until twelve-thirty,” she said to Tucker. “And then I’ll be back to finish.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he said from where he stood at the rails watching Jessa go through her warm-up. He called something to her about keeping the horse up off her left shoulder, and Briar turned to leave the arena.
It hadn’t snowed for a couple of days, but that just meant the world existed in ice and snow and freezing temperatures, everything within sight flat and white and gray. Excitement bubbled inside Briar because she loved learning new things and being creative, and this watercolor class would provide both.
She drove the half hour to the community center and collected the bag of supplies she’d pre-purchased for today’s class. She smiled at another woman walking in, and after they’d both checked in for the watercolor class at the front desk of the community center, the woman said, “My name is Teri. Have you done watercolors before?”
Briar shook her head. “I’ve painted other things, but not watercolors. I’m Briar.”
“It’s great to meet you.” Teri smiled like she really meant it. “I did an oil painting class last year, but mostly I’ve been painting walls and cabinets in my house as we remodel.” She gave a light laugh, and Briar smiled at her.
“I mostly do crafty types of art,” she said, surprised that she was talking to this woman at all.
