“I don’t think so.”
“I just want you to be aware of that. Because it has nothing to do with you. Just like Pascal’s limitations have nothing to do with you. He’s better off for having you. So am I. But . . .”
“How about this. You stop trying to anticipate what you need to say to me. You just let this happen.”
He let out a long, slow breath, and she could see that it pained him. “Yeah. I guess I can do that.”
“Good.”
They made sure that all the animals were where they needed to be, separated from one another, and fed. Then she took Remington Lane into her bed. Into her arms.
But she couldn’t tell him that she had also taken him into her heart.
Because he simply wasn’t ready to hear it.
She had to hope that this was just the first step, and someday he would be.
Because if he was going to go ahead and use metaphors about animals, so was she.
She had never met a wounded animal that she didn’t believe deep down she could fix.
She would fix him too.
Or she would break her own heart trying.
Chapter 9
He and Lydia had been sleeping at each other’s houses, back and forth, for four days now. He had, he could admit, avoided a couple of calls from Matthew because talking to his friend made him feel uncomfortable. As if Matthew would be able to see or hear the truth of the situation if they were to get on a voice or video call.
And there was no point having the discussion. He felt like a fool. Because sweet Lydia had given herself to him, and he found that every day he felt more like a feral dog she had taken in and fed. He didn’t want to leave. But he also couldn’t offer her anything. He just didn’t know how.
But he was spending so much time with her these days that it was difficult to imagine what his life would look like when this ended.
He didn’t want it to end. That was the honest truth. Little as he liked to admit it.
The day the horses arrived, Lydia was there with her hair in braids, a cowboy hat planted firmly on her head. She was wearing her usual jeans and a T-shirt and grinning from ear to ear. He had never seen her quite so excited. And he had done a pretty good job of exciting her during their nights together, if he said so himself.
The condition of the horses that were led out of the trailers shocked him.
Even though they had been given good care these last few weeks, they still looked rough beyond telling.
He remembered that a couple of the horses that had been taken from his father’s ranch couldn’t even be saved. That said a lot about the condition they must’ve been in.
It was amazing how easy it was to see his father’s cruelty when he was looking at animals.
And yet he had never really extended the same level of compassion to himself.
He had always felt as if in some regard maybe he hadn’t been a very good son. Hadn’t inspired his father to want to treat him well.
But these animals hadn’t asked to belong to Hunter Lane. They simply had.
Just as he had.
Same as Pascal hadn’t asked to be orphaned as a tiny raccoon, hadn’t asked to be turned into a domestic creature who couldn’t survive on his own.
He felt a surge of compassion rise up inside for his old self.
The boy he’d been.
