That was the thing about life. It built you up just to tear you right back down. I was in shock when I found out I was pregnant. Awestruck when I found out I was carrying a boy. But when Daniel told me he wanted nothing to do with raising a child? I was numb.
A few short months later, I got the call that my father had passed.
It was bittersweet that he’d left this world before my son could come into it. On one hand, I should’ve been looking forward to bringing his only grandchild to meethim. On the other? I was thankful I wouldn’t have to one day explain to my son why he didn’t visit his grandfather often. Why we celebrated holidays alone. Why, when other kids were getting cookies from their grandparents, we were bracing for confusion and violent outbursts from ours.
Alzheimer’s could be a shitty thing. Every day was different from the next. As time went on, I got more reports of my father’s episodes until I’d asked to stop knowing altogether. I’d witnessed his wrath enough times growing up that I knew visiting wouldn’t have helped. He may have remembered me, but it was a version of me from the past. And the way he’d treated me, nothing good would have come from it. I didn’t think I could handle seeing him like that, anyway. Which was selfish of me, really. But I’d come to learn over the last few years that in order to protect my peace, I had to think of myself.
But when those two little lines popped up, that shifted, too.
Now, only he mattered. And I’d do anything to keep him safe.
Knuckles rapped lightly on the door to my room. “Parker?”
I adjusted my sweater over my bump, tugging the hem a little harder than necessary to make sure it didn’t crawl back up. I’d need new clothes soon, but I didn’t have the budget right now. Hopefully, that’d change in the coming weeks.
“Yep?” I grabbed my purse off the end of the bed.
Beckham stepped in, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Do you want a ride to work?”
The scent of hay and rain wafted through the room. “Did you go to your parents’ ranch this morning?” It was barely seven thirty.
He nodded. “My brother’s had shit to do, and I didn’t want to leave my dad to feed on his own.”
My hand tightened around the strap of my purse at the mention of his family. “What time did you wake up?”
He tucked his hands in the front of his jeans, his back to the frame now. “Four thirty.”
“Oh.” I chewed the inside of my lip, forgetting the reason he’d come in here.
“Why? Wish I would’ve woken you up?”
I looked up from my duck boots to find him smiling, though a crease had formed between his brows. “No. Waking up that early sounds like hell right now. But…” I bit the inside of my cheek. “I would like to see them.”
He straightened a little. “Yeah?”
“I miss them. Miss your mom.” Charlotte Bronson had never once blinked when it came to taking in a rescue case—whether of the horse or people variety.
The deep line disappeared, and now his face only held a bright smile. “Yeah. She misses you too.”
“She does?”
“They all do, Park. Only reason they quit asking about you is because I couldn’t take it anymore.”
The admission may as well have been him ripping my heart from my chest and stomping it intothe floorboards.
“I’m sorry for leaving.”
He shrugged. “I left too.”
“But you had every intention of coming back. I…” I’d been content with the idea of leaving Bell Buckle behind. The good and the bad. And all for what? Some years of traveling from ranch to ranch around the states, just to end up knocked up and a single mom?
Would my fate have been different if I’d stayed?
Would this be Beckham’s baby?
Why did part of me wish it was?
“Didn’t think you’d end up back in my house?”
