Page 59 of Claimed By the Cowboys

She blinks, then gives a small, tired smile. “Well. Thank him for me, then.”

“How’s the child?”

“They think it’s a virus. Sometimes it’s like that with the little ones. They can’t fight what an adult can… they don’t have the strength. She’s a little better, though.”

“That’s good to hear.” I shove my hands in my pockets.

She studies me for a moment. “Why are you here?”

“My sister’s boy bumped his head. We thought we should get him checked out.”

“And is he okay?”

“He sure is. Hard-headed, like the rest of us.”

She almost smiles again. “That’s good. Well… thank your brother. It’s my daughter and me most days, and sometimes we could do with a strong man to help out.”

In that moment, I want to tell her the truth: that Bo and I have fallen hard for her daughter, and we’re ready to step up and be the strong men this family needs. I want to tell her we’d take the kids and the hard days, and all of it without blinking. But Brandy’s already frosty, though only God knows why. One wrong word to her mother could push everything in the wrong direction.

So I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

She thanks me again and walks back with measured steps toward the entrance. I watch her go until the automatic doors close behind her.

A few minutes later, Bo and Claire appear. Bo is carrying Harrison against his chest; Claire leads Brayden by the hand. Both boys look tired but fine.

“Ready to go home?” I ask.

“Definitely,” Harrison says drowsily. “That place smells funny.”

We all laugh, but it’s superficial. My heart is still inside the hospital, sitting in the hands of a woman who doesn’t seem to want it, or doesn’t know how to need it. I don’t know which one it is anymore.

We load the kids into the truck. As we pull out of the parking lot, I take out my phone and type a message to Brandy.

Jensen: Hope Naomi is better. Come by when you can. We miss you.

I hit send and stare at the screen the whole drive home.

The message remains unread.

Chapter 32

Brandy

We’re home, and it’s morning. Both kids are still upstairs, sleeping hard after the long night at the hospital. I’ve already called out of work, and I should be in bed making the most of the opportunity to lie in, but I can’t sleep.

Mama moves around the kitchen in her robe and silk bonnet with quiet purpose. She sets a mug of coffee in front of me, then two slices of her homemade bread, still warm, spread thin with butter.

“That was quite a situation last night,” she says, sitting across from me.

“It sure was.” I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my palms. “Like we needed a reminder of how fragile life can be.”

Mama shakes her head. “God was watching out for us. He sent that man to help us. I didn’t think you were going to be able to get Naomi out of the car.”

“We would have found a way.” I try to avoid thinking about how relieved and scared I’d been when Bo took charge.

“I said thank you to the man… well, his twin brother.”

I look up. “You did?”