“Are you enjoying these cowboy tricks?”I ask Charlie, laughing. “You look good!”
“I can lasso, Mom!” he says, puffing out his little chest, holding an invisible rope like he’s about to take on the whole ranch by himself.
His grin is wide and full of that innocent confidence only a five-year-old can pull off.
I smile, even though my heart gives a tiny ache. He fits here. Too easily.
Clint chuckles, that deep, quiet sound that somehow fills the whole room. “You’ve got good form, kid. Maybe we’ll get you out in the practice pen before too long.”
Charlie’s eyes go wide. “Really?”
“Maybe,” Clint says, raising an eyebrow. “If your mom says it’s okay.”
I roll my eyes, mostly to cover the way my stomach twists at the sight of him with Charlie. “We’ll see.”
Reid barks out a laugh, leaning back in his chair. “You sound just like my mom. ‘Reid, don’t climb that fence. Reid, don’t you dare ride bareback.’” He grins at Charlie. “Didn’t listen then either.”
“Still doesn’t,” Sawyer adds dryly from the other end of the table, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Man’s a walking bruise.”
“Occupational hazard,” Reid shoots back. “Can’t help it if some of us live on the edge.”
“Edge of what?” Sawyer deadpans. “Common sense?”
Charlie giggles, and even Clint cracks a grin. The whole table feels lighter, and I find myself laughing too. Real laughter, the kind that sneaks up on you before you can stop it.
Dinner smells delicious, chili and cornbread. The guys are relaxed, teasing each other, passing dishes around, talking over one another in that easy, comfortable rhythm that only comes from long familiarity.
And somehow, they’ve pulled Charlie right into it, as if he’s been part of their circle all along.
“Alright, little man,” Reid says, leaning in toward Charlie with a mock serious face. “Tell me, if you’re gonna be a cowboy, what’s your job on the ranch? Gotta have one.”
Charlie’s eyes light up. “I wanna be a horse rider! Like you!”
Reid grins proudly. “Excellent choice. You’ve got good taste.”
Sawyer snorts. “That’s only because you want someone else to muck the stalls.”
“I heard that,” Reid says, but he’s grinning. “I’ll train him right. He’ll be the fastest hand we’ve ever had.”
“Faster than you?” Clint asks, one eyebrow raised.
Reid’s grin falters just a little. “Well, let’s not get crazy.”
The table bursts into laughter again. Even Clint’s eyes glint with amusement, though he tries to hide it behind his coffee mug.
Charlie soaks it all in, his face glowing like he’s the center of the world. And he kind of is.
It should make me happy, and it does, but it also hurts in ways I can’t put words to. Watching Clint lean back, smiling atmy son, talking to him like he’s known him forever… it feels too easy. Too natural.
And that’s what scares me most.
If he ever found out, if he knew, everything would change. This warmth, this laughter, this fragile little moment of peace would blow apart like glass.
And Ishouldchange that. I almost did. But I’m terrified.
I force myself to focus on the noise around me instead of the thoughts clawing at the back of my mind.
“Clint, you’re awfully quiet tonight,” Sawyer says, breaking the lull that settles between rounds of teasing. “That means you actually liked my chili this time?”
