“Absolutely. Thank you so much for helping. Hayden loves to cook. He’s been helping me with dinners since he was in elementary school,” Mom gushed.
“Mom,” I whined, the tips of my ears heating.
“Oh, shush, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Right, Sierra?” She winked at Sierra, whose lips pressed together in a soft smile.
“Yeah. I think it’s sweet,” she murmured, bringing a spoonful of soup up to her mouth. “Whoa, this is really good!” She shoveled more soup and dumplings into her mouth, eliciting a laugh from both me and Mom.
“If you want the recipe, I can give it to you, but there’s a secret ingredient.” Mom smiled.
Sierra’s eyes widened. “Secret ingredient? What is it?” She paused, her eyes bouncing around the room. “Are you allowed to tell me? If it’s a secret.”
“Love.”
“Love?”
Mom nodded, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Yes, love. I firmly believe food always tastes better when it’s made in a kitchen full of love and laughter.”
After Sierra went home, Mom and I sat on the couch, watching TV. Dad wasn’t home yet, and I was struggling to decide whether to bring up what I saw tonight.
“What’s wrong, bud?” Mom must have noticed how restless I was, fidgeting and unable to sit still.
I furrowed my brow, trying to rack my brain for the right words to say. “Mom, if I thought someone was in trouble, but they won’t accept help, what am I supposed to do? I know what to do in a life-or-death situation, but what if it’s not? What if I can see someone struggling, but they won’t listen?”
She looked at me with sadness in her eyes, but not the pitying kind. Mom placed her hand on my shoulder. “You show them kindness and empathy, bud. Keep showing up for them and letting them know you’re there. I know it’s hard, especially for someone with a heart as big as yours, but sometimes the best protectors aren’t the loudest or the biggest or the strongest. Sometimes the best kind of support is the kind that sits with you in your mostvulnerable moments.” She patted me on the head. “You’re a smart kid who knows right from wrong, Hayden. I know you’ll do whatever is right. Just keep looking out for them.”
I nodded. “I’m going to go to bed.”
“Okay, honey.” She pulled me into a hug, and I leaned into her a little more than normal.
That night, and every night after that, our conversation stuck with me. It didn’t take much for me to decide; if and when Sierra decided she needed me, I’d be there.
One day, she’d find her voice. And when she did, I’d amplify it, even if it meant mine had to be a little quieter.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
hayden
PRESENT DAY
With the amount of time we spent on the road between the months of June and September, having a week of rodeo close to home was a small blessing. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, traveling all the time sometimes made me homesick—mostly for good, home-cooked meals and my own bed.
While the horse trailer I owned had a small kitchen, I was limited in what I could make. More often than not, I didn’t have the time to cook anyway. The guys and I tried to stay away from fast food as much as possible, but that restricted the options we did have. I found myself bringing a lot of sandwiches and small snacks on the road.
Chicken and dumplings wasn’t the only thing I knew how to make, although that was probably my favorite. My mom made sure I knew how to cook growing up and still shared recipes with me to this day.
Your future wife will appreciate it,she would say.
I never protested learning how to cook, though. It was fun, and I learned quickly to appreciate the work and creativity that it took. Anyone could follow a recipe; I wassure of that. But being able to make a meal your own was special.
Baking required following the rules, but cooking was forgiving enough that you could break them.
Sierra wasn’t awake yet, but I still prepped ingredients for breakfast. My plan was to make cinnamon roll-stuffed French toast, eggs, and bacon.
I didn’t have brioche or any kind of French bread, and I didn’t want to run to the store at the risk of Sierra waking up before I could get back, so classic sandwich bread would have to do.
After cracking a few eggs into a bowl, I stirred in some spices and milk before dunking the bread slices in the mixture and setting them in the sizzling pan to cook.
In a separate frying pan, I started making strips of bacon, the savory aromas filling the kitchen. I hummed as the meal started to come together, everything around me fading into the background as I disappeared into my own little world.
