“I’ll light the torches, they’ll clear out,” I promise. “I’ll grab a bottle of wine too. We can make it a whole thing.”
Her face lights up all over again. “Sounds perfect.” She curls her arm over mine, falling into step with me as we walk through the house. It’s silly but it’s also exactly the sort of sweet thing she does that made me want to be with her in the first place. She never hesitates to let me know she cares about me. Never holds back the happiness she feels in simply being together. I never have to guess with her. It’s nice. Easy. “I’ll get the glasses.”
Gathering what we need doesn’t take long, and a few minutes later, we head outside.
As promised, the citronella torches hold the mosquitos at bay. Above us, the full silver moon is well worth the occasional breeze moving through.
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” she says, after we’ve been quiet a while, both of us too focused on our food to carry on conversation. “You’ve felt distant ever since the accident.” She hesitates, like she’s having second thoughts about bringing it up. “I haven’t known how to reach you. You’ve been home every night, but in some ways, it felt like you were still away in Nashville.”
“I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way.” I’m even sorrier, I’m about to make shit worse.
“I understand that you’ve had a lot to process.” She reaches out a hand to squeeze mine. “I wish I knew how to help you through all of this. You can let down your guard around me, you know. I could be someone you lean on, Jovi. I want to be.”
“Casey.” Now. I have to tell her now. “I appreciate that, really, I do. It’s just…” Fuck. This is harder than I thought it would be.
“What?” Her eyes grow wider, the amber of her irises flashing in the torch light.
“Trent left his business to me.”
She frowns. “His horse business? Why?”
I don’t suppose it would be all that obvious to her. She hasn’t been in my life long enough. She wasn’t there when Trent first started working horses. She has no clue I’m the one who got him into it. That I was doing it before he was. “Because he knew I would do right by it. That I would do right by the animals.”
“So, you’ll still be distracted for a while.” She smiles to hide her disappointment. “Until you figure out how to dissolve it all.”
“No, that’s not it.” Jesus Christ, I wish people would stop assuming that. “I’m going to run it, not sell it.”
She laughs out loud before she can catch herself. “I’m sorry, but are you serious? What do you know about running a ranch?”
I clear my throat, folding up the empty wrappers of my eaten sandwich. “More than you might imagine.”
The look she gives me is nothing short of incredulous. “You’re for real. You want to run Trent’s horse business.” She leans forward, hands clasped in her lap. “Why? Because you’re not readyto say goodbye? Jovi, how long are you going to put your own life on hold to keep from facing his death?”
I blink.
For a moment, I think maybe I heard her wrong. When I realize I didn’t, I swallow down the words I want to say to allow passage to those I need to get out.
“You’re not understanding what I’m saying.” I lean toward her as well. “I’m moving. Not forever, but for a year. And not because I can’t let go, but because I have to do this for my best friend. Not to avoid his death, but to honor his life, his kids. I have to do this for them, so that they’re taken care of. So that Trent can provide for them the way he wanted to. The way he and Lena always set out to.”
“So, you’re going to go live at the ranch. In Cedar Hill.” Casey still doesn’t sound like she believes a word of what we’re saying to each other. “With the kids?” She shakes her head. “You can’t possibly take care of everything on your own. You’ll need help.”
Panic unfurls in my chest as I realize where this conversation is going. “Liz will be there,” I blurt out. The words lack the casual and irrelevant element I’d hoped to deliver them with. “Trent and Lena appointed her the kids’ guardian.”
Casey stares at me for several long seconds. “I want to come.”Shit.I should have known mentioning Liz would backfire.
She takes both my hands in hers and holds them tight. “Let me help you. Let me be a part of this.”
“Do you have any idea what your commute would be?” I shake my head.
“I don’t care,” she insists. “And if it turns out to be too much, I’ll take a leave of absence.”
“Now you’re quitting your job?”
“You are.”
“No,” I sit back, breaking out of her hold as I do, “I’m not. I’m adjusting my workload to manage it along with the ranch. It's not the same thing.”
“Come on, Jovi. You need me. What do you and Liz know about raising kids? I’m a teacher. I went to school for this. Let me help you.”
