“Lisa passed away nearly fifteen years ago. And I haven’t seen Monica or Sierra since the day she came over and asked us to be godparents. She sent baby pictures and a few letters, but that’s it. We figured she moved on and changed her mind. Monica and Lisa were never very close.”
“It doesn’t appear she changed it. You aren’t obligated. She’s sixteen. A group setting will work until she’s emancipated.”
The woman is talking about Sierra as if she’s not sitting right beside her, and it’s beginning to piss me off. I don’t know the story. I don’t know the relationship she had with her mother, or if she even knows about me or her aunt. But what I do knowis, I don’t want her to sit there for another second while being treated like an old mitten left behind in the lost and found.
“Absolutely not.” My voice comes out harsh. “If her mother wanted her to stay here, she’ll stay here. She’s my niece.”
Chapter 17
Hayden
Ihave no idea what to do with a kid. She’s sixteen; it’s not like she’s in diapers. But I’m sure she needs more than just feeding and watering like a plant, or my animals. I had no business saying yes. But I couldn’t say no when this is what Lisa would have wanted. And just because that Marianne woman insisted on speaking about Sierra like she wasn’t a person, it doesn’t mean I was about to do the same thing. Her mother died. She’s been through enough.
The house is quiet. I got her settled in the spare bedroom in the lower level before going out for evening chores. A teenage girl needs her own space and privacy, so that bedroom was my first suggestion. What I can’t believe is that they just dropped her off with hardly any questions. I could be anyone. A quick background check doesn’t mean shit. I can only hope they do a better job of vetting people under other circumstances.
Glancing at the clock on the stove, I mutter a curse under my breath. It’s nearly 8:00 p.m. and I haven’t started dinner.I’m already failing at this whole guardianship thing. There are still no sounds coming from downstairs, but I head into the kitchen and find something to cook.
It doesn’t take me long to decide on chicken alfredo—Melanie’s recipe. I refuse to analyze the reason I know it, or the reason I decide that’s what I should cook. I just tell myself it’s because it’s quick and easy. I keep grilled chicken breast in my refrigerator. It’s something that I can cook in advance, and when I can’t figure out what to make, I can turn grilled chicken breast into a decent meal in no time.
The butter, parmesan cheese, and cream simmer in the pot along with the chunks of chicken breast. Steam billows out from the broccoli florets, and I drain the water from the pasta before doing the same to the broccoli. As if on cue, Sierra steps into the kitchen right as I stir the broccoli into the sauce.
“Hey,” I greet cheerfully, flashing what I hope is a warm smile. “You hungry?”
Sierra nods her head before taking a seat at the island, the chair scraping across the floor as she scoots herself in. She’s wearing flannel Christmas pajamas, and I wonder if that’s all she has with her. I’ve heard enough horror stories about the foster care system. It isn’t unheard of for children to be placed in homes with little more than the clothes on their backs. I was just relieved to see Sierra had a small suitcase, and not a garbage bag filled with belongings.
“I don’t do much actual cooking, but my friend really likes this, so I got the recipe from her mom. Hopefully it’s okay,” I say as I fill two bowls with pasta and then pour the sauce over top before taking a seat across from her.
“I’m sure it’s great. Thank you.”
I twirl some pasta around my fork before spearing a piece of chicken. “If it sucks, tell me, and I won’t make it again. In case you haven’t noticed, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing here—sorry. Language.”
For the first time since she showed up on my doorstep, I see what appears to be the hint of a real smile on Sierra’s face. A dimple peeks out on one cheek, and her eyes seem to brighten just a bit. She looks so much like her aunt, it nearly takes my breath away. We hadn’t really discussed starting a family, but somehow, I already know if we did, he or she would likely have looked a lot like Sierra.
“I’m a junior in high school. I’ve heard one or two bad words before.”
Laughing, I continue working on my food. It turned out delicious. Not quite as good as Melanie’s, but I’d say it’s pretty damn close. Sierra must agree, because she finishes her meal before I do. When I look back up, her bowl is pushed to the side, and she’s watching me with a contemplative smile on her face.
“Would you like more?” I offer. “I made more than enough for us. Figured leftovers can be heated up.”
Getting to her feet, Sierra smiles as she begins gathering dirty dishes. “No thanks, I can’t eat another bite. Thanks for dinner.”
Unsure of what to say, I watch in surprise as she clears the dishes and loads them into the dishwasher. I don’t know much about kids, but it’s common knowledge that being helpful and volunteering to do chores is not a typical trait amongst teenagers. Standing from my seat at the island, I join her, and we get the kitchen clean in only a few minutes. It’s a good thing because it’s already well past 9:00 p.m. and I need to be at Boulder Ranch early, which means I need to go out for morning chores even earlier than usual. Bronc riding school is over, but training and practice continue throughout the season.
“Feel free to stay up as late as you want. Make yourself at home. Nothing here is off limits to you. I have to be up early to head to Boulder Ranch, so I’m going to turn in.”
Her entire face lights up at the mention of Boulder Ranch, and I realize I have no idea where Sierra and her mom lived. I barely asked any questions. As soon as I discovered the frightened teenager sitting in my living room was my goddaughter, I didn’t need to know anything else. I was raised to take care offamily and loved ones, no matter what. My mother would turn over in her grave if I did anything other than open my home.
“You work at Boulder Ranch?” she asks with a shy smile.
“Kind of. You know the place?”
Averting her eyes, she shrugs before concentrating on a loose string dangling from the hem of her sleeve. “Some of my friends go to rodeo nights, but my mom never liked the idea of me wandering around alone.”
I open my mouth and then close it without saying anything. Of course, I have no idea how to navigate this. I don’t want to disregard Monica’s rules, but I also want to introduce Sierra to rodeo life if she’s interested. It just might be the one thing we have in common. Narrowing my gaze at her, I take a deep breath before finally speaking.
“Be ready by 7:30, and you can come with me if you want.”
Her eyes widen, and no matter how hard she tries to hide her smile, a grin breaks free as she looks up at me. “Really? I’ll be ready!”
