My heart drops into my stomach for a second time. She’s not here.
Where else would she go?
My thoughts race back over the weekends Madison was here. Swimming and rope swings, football on the field, dinners at the ranch table, in the paddocks helping Izzy. Spending time with Quicksilver, and riding the ranch with us. Then it hits me, and suddenly I know exactly where to look.
I fire off a message to Izzy before pushing Rusty into a canter, Buck keeping pace by our side as I guide us past the football field to the edge of the ranch and the foothills, praying I’m right. Praying Madison is safe. The sun is dipping in a sky washed with cotton-candy pink, but it’s not the beauty I see, it’s the time Madison has been on her own and the nightfall that’s coming. My mouth is dry. My breathing quick. Rusty’s coat is slick with sweat, but I don’t slow down. We hit the trail leading into the foothills, only slowing as we come to a steep incline and a sharp turn, where the path is overgrown with shrubs.
Please be there!
Another turn and there’s the cave. The one I used to come to when I thought I was in trouble as a kid. The one I showed Madison on one of our rides. I heave a sigh at the sound of ahorse’s whinny and catch sight of Rosie tethered to a tree root. The mare is here. But where’s Madison?
Buck barks, galloping ahead now, disappearing into the cave before barking again. My feet hit the ground, my heart refusing to slow as I force myself not to think of Mad fallen, injured. She has to be OK!
“Madison?” My voice echoes against the rock face, but all I hear in response is the pounding of my own heart in my ears.
“Mad,” I try again, softening my voice. “It’s Dylan.”
Then a noise. A rustle. A muffled sob.
Relief floods me so fast my knees almost buckle. She’s here.
I yank out my phone and, with shaking fingers, send a three-word message to Izzy:
DYLAN:I’ve got her.
Securing Rusty beside Rosie, I drop down, crawling into the mouth of the cave. It’s smaller than I remember from coming here as a kid. My head is grazing the top of the cave at a crawl. My eyes adjust to the gloom and there’s Madison, sitting on a blanket with a backpack and a teddy tucked by her side. There’s a notebook open on the blanket, like she’s making one of her lists, but her face is streaked with tears and she’s hugging Buck tightly to her body, crying into his soft fur.
I smile, swallowing down the rock lodged in my throat as relief continues to skip through me. “Hey.” I smile.
Mad lifts her eyes and fresh sobs shake her tiny frame. She scrambles across the dirt and throws herself into my arms. Her body is solid and warm, and I wrap her into me. “It’s OK, Mad. It’s all OK.”
“You weren’t at the ranch,” she sobs. “I thought you’d left me too.”
Guilt slams into me worse than any defensive lineman ever has. I tighten my hold on her. “I’m sorry. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” And it’s the easiest promise I’ve ever made. One I want to make more than anything else right now. Mad, Izzy, this ranch. All of us together. I just hope I’m not too late. I promised Izzy I would be there for the ranch and her, and I wasn’t. Not fully. My head was still on the Stormhawks and what I saw as my failure. But this promise to Mad is one I will keep if it’s the last thing I do.
Beside me, Mad sniffs and wipes at her tears with her hands. “I didn’t want to go back to Grandma and Granddad’s house. I wanted to come home, but I didn’t know where that was, and it made me upset, so I came here to talk to you. But you were gone. And then I realized I was in trouble because I wasn’t supposed to be at the ranch, and I knew Mom would be mad, so I…” She hiccups, patting her backpack. “I got Rosie and I came to live here. But I’ve already eaten all my snacks.” Her little voice wobbles.
A soft chuckle escapes me as I catch the next tear with my thumb, wiping it away before it can run down her cheek. “I used to do the same. But Mad, this is your home. Oakwood Ranch is your home if you want it to be.”
Her lower lip trembles. “Mom said we couldn’t stay here anymore.”
I wish I could take the weight of her sadness as my own. How do I explain the mess and the mistakes I’ve made to this little girl who thinks adults have all the answers?
“Your mom and I had a fight, Mad,” I say. “I thought I wanted to go back to a life in football, and she thought that meant I didn’t care about the two of you or the horses. But that’s not true. It just took me a little time to realize what was most importantin my life.” I rub a hand over my beard, wondering if I’m making any sense. “Grown-ups make mistakes too.”
Madison’s voice drops to a whisper. “Like Mom and Dad having me?”
I shift back, making sure Madison is looking right at me, hearing what I’m going to say. “No, Mad. You were never a mistake. Your mom and dad love you so much.”
“But over the weekend, I heard Granddad tell Grandma I was a mistake.”
My jaw clenches, but I keep my voice steady. “I’m sorry you heard that. People say things they don’t mean sometimes. And also? People can be dicks.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Dylan!” She gasps, her horror quickly melting into a giggle.
