She put her hand on the door handle. “That’s the thing with children, Brodie. There’s no time to think straight. This is it, you’re either in or you’re not.”
ChapterEight
Brodie swung by the Silver Sky Ranch on the way back from the hospital, shaken, a bit lost, and in need of a distraction.
Pulling up in the driveway, he took a moment to look at the big family house with the trailing rose round the door bursting with pink flowers, the sweeping landscape behind with the pines pointing up to Starlight Mountain, the dewy green of the pasture and the almost beacon-red of the barn roofs in the sun. Everything felt like he was seeing it for the first time, in some new light, like there was now a before and after version of Brodie Carter.
Shuddering at the idea, he got out the car and ambled over to the horse barn to see if anyone was about.
He just had to take it a day at a time, not stress. That was his mantra in life. See where the day took him.
You have a kid.
His legs wobbled and he almost stumbled, it was a feeling akin to his yacht yawing at ninety degrees in the Atlantic waves.
There were a couple of horses in the paddock, the only one he knew the name of was Blue—Noah’s horse—because he was strictly forbidden to ride her. Noah was very protective of his horses.
Brodie went up to the fence and whistled and a striking palomino came straight over. “Hello, girl,” he said, rubbing her nose and letting her snuffle his hair. “I don’t have anything for you, sorry.” He breathed in the warm scent of her, felt the softness of her muzzle. “Aren’t you lovely?” He wondered if Zoey could ride a horse. He frowned at the thought, didn’t know where it had come from. Didn’t want similar intruding on his every day.
“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes.” Noah was leaning in the open doorway of the barn watching, arms crossed, smirking as Brodie got all schmaltzy talking to the horse. “Don’t usually see you venturing this far from the house.”
“Ha-ha.” Brodie stepped away from the affectionate mare and threw his brother a withering look.
Noah strolled over, remnants of the smirk still on his face. In his plaid shirt, scruffy T-shirt, mud-splattered jeans and boots, this was the version of his twin that Brodie knew best. “What are you up to?”
“Not a lot.” Brodie tried to imagine the look on Noah’s face if he told him about Maeve. Knowing Noah he’d probably just nod, let the information sink in. Brodie’s stomach felt coiled like a spring.
“You okay?” Noah asked.
They didn’t share a twin’s sixth sense but they could read each other pretty well.
“Fine,” Brodie replied stiffly. He was so wound up, anyone could probably have sensed it. Noah would never push it, though, never asked too many questions. “You?”
Noah glanced out to the far pastures. “Gotta go round up some cattle. You want to help?” he offered, although they both knew the answer.
Brodie wondered if being out in the saddle might actually help relax him, but his agreement would raise too many eyebrows, incite too many questions. “You know me, terrible with a lasso.”
“Bit of practice usually helps,” said a voice behind him.
Brodie rolled his eyes before turning round. There was Emmett Carter, saddle over his shoulder, hat half hiding his face, beard more white now than it was black. “Hi, Dad.”
“You here to help?”
Brodie swallowed, no one made him as nervous as his father. Except now, perhaps Maeve. “I was just stopping by.”
“It would be a darn sight more useful if you were here to help.”
Silence.
While Brodie searched in his head for an answer, Noah looked at him supportively. Emmett waited for a beat, letting the message sink in, then said, “You staying long? Nice if you told your mom what you were doing.”
Responsibility, obligations. Would Brodie have to say this kind of stuff to Zoey?
Behind them, the screen door to the ranch house banged and his mom, Martha Carter, appeared. “Brodie! Oh, I’m so glad you’re still here. I thought maybe you’d already left!” she called over as Emmett carried on in the direction of the barn. “You want to stay for dinner?”
Brodie glanced at his father’s broad back and couldn’t imagine anything worse than sitting opposite him for a whole meal. Whether he’d made up his mind or not about accepting Maeve’s invitation, he said, “I can’t, Mom, sorry, I got plans.”
As Martha made her way over, Noah raised a brow and said quietly, “You get lucky at the wedding?”
