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“I—I don’t know what there is to say about it.”

I prop myself up on my elbow and brush her hair back, tracing her cheek with my thumb. “What happened?”

She looks up at me, eyes wet again. “She was working with the city, and she had to travel sometimes. Dad had some…problems when they first married, with settling down. He was real wild, that’s what Mom said. One night, when Aunt Eugenia had us, he went out to a bar with the wranglers.”

“Just like that?”

She clears her throat, tears brimming. “Just like that.”

“Wow,” I say, unable to hold back. “Way to throw it all away.”

She smiles that same lipless, grim smile. “It was with a random woman at a bar. She didn’t know he was married because he never wore a ring. One of his friends had an accident once on his ranch and degloved his finger, so Dad never wore one. When the woman found out he was married, she tracked down Mom, ratted him out.”

I’m speechless. She laughs shakily.

“The woman Dad slept with, Cherie, she’s Mom’s sister-in-law now. They’re friends—well, family,” she says. “How weird is that?”

“Not all that weird,” I say. “That woman did her a solid.”

“I don’t know who was more pissed, looking back—Cherie or Mom.”

I smile, and we sit in another long moment of silence. She’s different when she’s sad. Her sudden, out of character fragility makes me fiercely protective.

“What’s so weird is…he loved Mom. Even then, even as a little kid, I could tell he adored her. But he still cheated on her… He fucked everything up for our family.”

I clear my throat. “You know, working in the industry I do, I see a lot of that. If I had a dollar for every man who’s head over heels in love with his wife but somehow manages to trip and put his dick in another woman…well, I’d have a boatload of money.”

She pushes herself up on her hands. “Can you hold me?”

Of course, I can. Sitting, I pull her into my lap and run my fingers through her hair. She sinks against my chest, and a powerful sense of wanting to protect her blossoms in my chest. She’s so fragile right now.

“I feel so guilty,” she says.

“Why? You didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t understand it when it happened. I was just really mad at Mom for wanting to leave Dad. And I wanted to stay on the ranch. So, I decided to stay with Dad in the custody arrangement, and, of course, Serena stayed because I did.”

“You were little.”

“I know, but that must have hurt Mom so bad. Now that I’m grown, I think about that. All the time.”

Gently, I stroke her hair, my chin on top of her head. There are a lot of things I carry around with me, and most of them, I still blame myself for, even though they weren’t my fault. At least, not all my fault. Before my mother passed, I kept telling myself I was going to text and call, but Jamie and I were on the road. My career was moving so fast, doing anything but work felt like putting my feet outside a car going a hundred miles an hour.

I kept telling myself I was going to call, until she wasn’t there to pick up the phone anymore.

I was young, barely twenty, but I blame myself for that every day.

“Have you ever said that to her?” I ask softly.

She sniffles, lifting her head to look up at me. Her eyes are big and glassy, beautiful but a little heartbreaking. “No, she’s never brought it up. Me and my mom don’t have the closest relationship. I only saw her once a year for a few months. It’s not a bad relationship, just not as personal as it could be. I do sometimes wish I could just be honest. I just know she’d have something to say about how it’s not my fault.”

“It’s not.”

She points at her chest. “It feels like it is.”

“Let me ask you something,” I say. “You know anybody with kids? Like about age six or seven?”

She thinks, brow creasing. “Yeah, one of the wranglers, Clive. He has a little boy who’s eight.”