Page 1 of She Autumn Be Mine

ONE

Guarded

Autumn Triggs

Little fists slapped the mesh of the playpen and protested. Stetson hated being in it lately; he’d rather be carried around nonstop. I blamed Jake for that.

“Ka-ka-ba-ba,” my baby babbled as if protesting being in a prison.

“No, honey, prison is where your Uncle Trig is,” I quipped and rolled my eyes.

Here I arrived in Montana six months ago expecting I’d find my brother and get his support while I figured out my next steps in life. Only for him to get arrested, for some crap he shouldn’t have been involved with in the first place.

He pled guilty and the judge slapped a two-year sentence on him. Just last week, he’d gotten transferred to the Montana State Prison. It was all over the news and the subject of gossip in town for about a minute.

I pulled my semi-wet hair into a spiral on top of my head and secured it with a clip. “That won’t be you, my love. No, you’re my perfect little angel boy.”

I crossed the tiny apartment to him in three quick strides, swooped him up, tickled his tummy, and reveled in his laughter. He rewarded me with a three-toothed grin that made every bad day worth surviving.

“There you are.” I buried my nose against the soft curve of his neck. I’d miss this someday: the smell of baby shampoo and a hint of whatever mysterious scent baby boys invented all on their own.

“How are you one-year-old now? Please, can we let time slow down a bit? Mama needs to catch up.”

He answered by grabbing a fistful of my hair.

“Ouch. You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

I headed back to the bathroom and set him in the sink in front of me, occupying him with stacking cups. Immediately he put them into his mouth, as usual with everything he got a grip on. With one hand on him, I finished my mascara with the other, while my phone sat propped against the mirror and played through today’s pictures on a video loop to the tune of the Happy Birthday song.

“How did you grow so fast?” I sighed, shoulders falling from the weight of my life, way too much to carry sometimes.

If not for the Wylde sisters putting on a Buckaroo BBQ for his first birthday party today, I would have stayed here at the apartment with him. I would have taken a collect phone call from Trig, and ignored a call from my ex’s parents, and sat here all day wondering if my ex would even bother to reach out—which he didn’t, and for that, I was glad. Of course, I’d have ended the day crying myself stupid over my pathetic life.

Instead, at the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch the sisters outdid themselves, along with Jake and the ranch hands, and their friends and family and kids, many I hadn’t learned the names of yet. All there to celebrate. Since I moved here, if there’s one thing I’d learned it was that Ivy Wylde loved any excuse to throw a get-together. With all the details handled, it was magical and perfect for my baby’s first party.

We came home with a pile of wonderful and practical presents, everything from toys to books to a winter coat a couple of sizes too big. By the time winter rolled around, I hoped it would still fit him. Right now, in this June heat of Montana, I kept him in onesies and shorts.

I picked up my phone and paused longer on each photo. There was Stetson with white cake and blue frosting smashed all over his face and hands, but a goofy grin despite it. Another showed him wearing the adorable cowboy hat Ivy had somehow found in a baby size. And then the baby rode on Marshmallow, the short and squatty pony, being held in place in the saddle by Jake, who insisted I shouldn’t worry, that he wouldn’t let Stetson fall.

The corner of my mouth lifted. More than anyone else in my life, I could probably trust Jake. He’d been there for us these past few months—when no one else had.

I picked three of the best photos from the party and sent them in a text to Nanette.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Nanette: The cake! Those chubby cheeks! I miss him. I miss you. It’s not fair that we live a state apart.

I missed nothing about the old life in Wyoming. Not Stetson’s father or his controlling family. Nope, not one bit. But I missed my bestie, who always made me laugh despite the shit show my life had become.

Nanette: Who is the cowboy in these photos?

I pulled the phone closer to my face. Oh. I scrolled through every photo from the party, all showing Jake right beside me and Stetson the entire time. I’d become so used to him being around, I hadn’t noticed.

Me: Just a friend.

Nanette: That’s one sexy-ass man friend.

Well, Jake was… I caught my breath, zooming in on one photo of him holding Stetson, smiling ear to ear, full lips framed by his dark beard and mustache, hazel eyes crinkled and laughing. Both were wearing their cowboy hats, and Stetson gazed upon him as if Jake hung the moon.