“My mom’s been through enough. And now I have to tell her that in addition to verbally abusing and abandoning her, Craig also cheated on her. Had a child with someone else. A child who has ingratiated herself with our family and who’s been creeping around us for months all the while knowing that we’re related.”
Charlotte winced. It wasn’t like that. He was making it sound so much worse than it actually was.
But was he really?
The question gutted her because he was right. She’d gotten caught up in his wonderful family and hadn’t wanted to lose them. Despite her best efforts to hold it back, a tear trickled down her face. Her chin wobbled. “I’m sorry, Gavin. I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you. I didn’t mean to get so close to your family, but you were all just so welcoming, and I couldn’t resist getting to know you better. I was trying to honor Craig’s wishes, and it all just got away from me.” She swiped away another tear. “I know how it appears, but please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to hurt you or anyone else. That’s the last thing I wanted.”
He heaved a sigh. Gave her a grim look. “You can’t just expect me to be okay with this, Charlotte. You’ve known we were siblings forseven months—and from over here it feels likeyou chose Craig over Cooper and me. That doesn’t feel very good.”
Regret unfurled in her chest. “I’m so sorry, Gavin.”
He held her gaze for a long, painful minute. “I am too.” Gravel scraped beneath his feet as he turned and headed toward his truck.
As Charlotte watched him go, a bone-deep cold swept over her, chilling her from the inside out.
Thirty-Eight
It was the kind of day when Gunner preferred to stay busy. The kind of day when downtime only meant old memories crashing into the present day. He’d always coped with the anniversary of his parents’ death by staying busy. If he was busy, he couldn’t think about the horrible fire and its aftermath. Couldn’t feel that awful void he tried to pretend wasn’t there. Or remember the way he’d felt when his grandpa delivered the terrible news.
When he was four or five, he’d been at a friend’s house, in their swimming pool. He and his friend stayed in the shallow end, tossing a small football. But soon they were playing on their own. Gunner tossed a penny and dove down for it. Several times later he came up for air but couldn’t find any. His feet couldn’t find the bottom either. He’d drifted into the deep end.
Panic surged. He flailed his arms, kicked his feet. He reached air, drew a breath, but sank again, breathing in water. His lungs felt as if they might burst. A sense of doom nearly swallowed him whole. He was drowning. Just when he thought he was done for, his friend’s mom fished him out of the pool.
That’s how he’d felt when his grandpa told him his parents were gone. Gunner was back in that pool, flailing, kicking, drowning. He still felt that horrible panic when he remembered that day in the hospital and all the days after as he counted his losses.
Which was exactly why he preferred not to think of it at all.
And as it happened, staying busy on Charlie’s ranch was easily done, with so many tasks to distract him. He was even glad for the after-hours meeting at the Robinson house. And he didn’t mind when it ran later than expected.
It was going on eleven when he said goodbye and mounted his bike. They’d gotten a lot done. Avery was organized and efficient—she’d already formed a nonprofit, HealthServe, which would make Trail Days’ gift and future contributions tax-deductible. Lisa was the creative one. She had lots of ideas about how to spread the word about the charity so that many people would benefit. She’d already given it a prominent spot on the Trail Days website and on all the flyers they’d posted locally.
On his way home, hugging the tight curves of the road, he once again pushed back thoughts of the anniversary and focused instead on feeling grateful. It did feel good to give back. This small community had such a big heart. The people cared about each other, pitched in when help was needed. They came through when disaster struck. No wonder Charlotte wanted a life here. Who could blame her?
He hoped the dinner with her father had gone well. She seemed to enjoy their chats and was growing attached to him. As much as he would’ve liked to check in with her, it was too late to call. She usually went to bed around ten thirty, and he didn’t want to wake her. It would wait till morning.
The past couple of weeks with her had been amazing. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. For the first time since he’d lost everything, he could see himself settling down somewhere. Making a family. Making a life.
Charlie.
His heart swelled two sizes in his chest at the thought of her. He enjoyed working with her. She was an excellent boss, neither demanding nor lax. There wasn’t a task on the ranch she considered herself too good for. She got right in there and mucked out the stalls with him—a big difference from his previous bosses.
But their relationship had progressed well beyond boss-employee. The evenings he spent with her had deepened their connection. And when they were apart he found himself thinking of her, wanting to be with her. He couldn’t wait to get his arms around her. To get his lips on hers. She was... she was everything to him. And he couldn’t deny the truth any longer.
He was head over heels in love with the woman.
A feeling of euphoria swept over him at the thought. But before it could carry him away, a sense of doom nearly squeezed the air from his lungs.
He gave his head a hard shake. No, he wouldn’t give in to negative thinking. Of course love was a risk. But he’d push through the barrier. He’d focus on the positive.
Gunner opened his eyes to inky blackness. His bedroom was hot and alive. Heart hammering, he jerked his Superman blanket over his head. But he couldn’t escape the loud roar or the sound of shattering glass. He couldn’t even breathe. Smoke caught in his burning throat and he choked out a ragged cough.
From somewhere far away, his dad’s voice broke though the chaos. “Gunner!”
He pushed down the covers. Peered through the darkness to where the hall glowed a strange orange-red. The colors moved and shifted.
The house is on fire.
The realization flooded his veins with fear.
