The usual morning chaos was unfolding in the house, so I’d escaped outside for a little peace. Not that I didn’t love the noise, I did, but sometimes, I just needed space to think. Hell, I always needed to think. The subject just varied.
“Hey.” Nash’s voice sounded behind me as he handed over a coffee. A pink barrette stuck out from his dark hair at an odd angle.
“What the hell?” I gestured at his new accessory.
“Bertie thinks I need a haircut ‘stat,’“ he said, rolling his eyes.
My ten-year-old niece, Bertie, was sunshine in all our lives, her and her brother, Billy. Bertie lived every day like it was a dance party. Billy was more Yoga Zen, everything done at his own pace, which was great except when you had somewhere to be. I’d lost count of how many times Nash and Lily were late because Billy wouldn’t shift out of park.
“How’s the foal doing?” Nash leaned against the fence, mirroring my stance.
“She’s good. Strong. Always feeding. Almost ready for weaning.” I took a sip of the coffee, strong enough to tingle my tastebuds. “Did I tell you I love your wife?”
Nash snorted. “Good coffee?”
“The best.” I glanced back at the house. “Breakfast still going on in there?”
Nash exhaled heavily. “About that. I know the noise and chaos isn’t ideal.”
“Better than the alternative,” I said. “Just us three boys and Dad popping in whenever he damn well pleased.”
“You mean you enjoy the shouting and chaos.”
“Yeah, actually, I do. So don’t sweat it.”
Truth was, it had been a long time since I’d seen Nash so animated. Before Lily came back, he’d been a shadow of himself. All that promise he had in high school was stripped away after she left. Now, he was the main source of laughter around here. Even the knee he’d busted playing college football was feeling better after another surgery, one we could finally afford after the settlement with Dad. If he’d had the chance back then, he might have made it all the way to the NFL like he’d dreamed.
“But I do worry,” Nash continued. “That my kids are ruining your peace.”
“Don’t. It’s better than the silence.”
Nash fell silent for a beat. Then: “Got me thinking.”
“Breakfast?”
“Breakfast, bathtime, cartoons blasting when you just want to watch Friday Night Football,” he said, raising a brow.
I swatted a fly buzzing past.
“I’ve been thinking about you and Wilder,” Nash continued.
Songbird, the mare, wandered over, nuzzling my hand. I pulled a mint from my pocket and fed it to her, scratching her mane as she turned away.
“What about us?”
“You know how much land we have.”
I nodded. “Thousands of acres. Why?”
“Enough that we could build a couple of cabins. One for you and Wilder. Maybe even houses.”
My heart sank, a lump forming in my throat. Stupid to feel like that because I was twenty-seven, not a kid.
“Do you want us to leave?” I asked. “Does Lily?” A breath caught in my chest. I hated how small the question sounded. Like a kid asking if he’d overstayed his welcome. It made me feel…temporary. Replaceable. Like maybe this ranch might not be home anymore, just land that I worked.
“God, no.” Nash clapped a hand on my back, fear in his eyes. It was as if he’d read my mind and he hated what he’d seen. “She doesn’t want you to leave. She especially doesn’t want Wilder to leave. He’s her favorite.”
I wanted to believe him. He was my brother, and I knew he loved me. But some part of me was always braced for the door to slam shut. For everything to get ripped away again, like it did when Mom died. Ever since Lily came back, that fear had crept in, whispering that maybe things were too good. That any second now, the other shoe would drop. It was stupid. I knew better. Wilder and I mattered to Nash just as much as he mattered to us and I needed to stop overthinking.
