Chance reached for her hand. When their palms met, he gave her fingers a fierce squeeze. “Don’t cry for him.”
She was crying for Chance, but all she did was nod.
Chance gave her hand another squeeze. “When she died, Dad wanted to die too. He didn’t feel like he had anything left to live for.”
Not even his sons?Cordy sniffed angrily, biting back her words.
It explained so much, more than the story about a curse on the men of the family. Chance wasn’t afraid to love because he’d fall too hard—it was because the person who should have loved him the most had let him down.
“He tried to kill himself with alcohol,” Chance said, “but it didn’t work. Most days, he just… wasn’t there.”
Cordy scrubbed at her eyes with her free hand. “How old were you?”
“Eighteen when Mom passed. Rye was thirteen, Lane twelve. Quint and I had to take care of them and the ranch and make sure child services never found out. I damn sure wasn’t going to let my brothers be taken away.”
Out of everything he’d told her, that hit the hardest. No wonder Chance had stepped up to help her—he’d been doing it for years.
God, when she thought about how she’d treated him at first… but she hadn’t known. No one in town had breathed a word of this to her.
“You only have one drink,” she said thickly, still trying not to cry.
His hand tightened on hers. “What?”
“At the bar.” She scrubbed her eyes again.
Chance handed over a crisp white handkerchief because, of course, he carried something like that and would have it right when she needed it.
“Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes. “At the bar, you only have one beer, no matter how long you’re there.” At his look, she said, “I notice these things. You’re nothing like him. And it’s not just the drinking.”
Chance ducked his head, keeping hold of her hand. “I never want to be like that. Brought so low I can’t even get out of bed. Not caring about any of the shit I should as everything goes to hell.”
“You won’t.” Which made his determination to be alone forever so much sadder.
“You’re not like him either.”
Cordy blinked. “What do you mean?”
Chance caught her gaze. “I mean, you had your life turned upside down, lost Reed, and you still came out swinging for this baby. You’d do anything for them, and they aren’t even here yet.” He gently tugged the handkerchief from her and wiped her cheeks. “You’re a fantastic mom already. I’m awed by you.”
They were holding hands in front of a pack of goats, her dog was asleep on her feet, but this moment felt more intimate than anything that had happened last night.
Acting purely on impulse, Cordy tugged him toward her and wrapped her free arm around him. With her belly she couldn’t get too close, but it was still a hug.
Chance didn’t seem to know what to do. His body was stiff against hers, and his arms hung at his sides. Cordy wonderedwhen he’d last had a hug. It wasn’t like she was a big hugger, but he was just plain baffled.
Slowly, he put his hands on her back. His shoulders curved toward her. His head drooped until he was practically nestled into her neck.
Chance gave a great, heaving sigh that lifted Cordy up on her toes. He sounded like he needed this.
Well, so did she.
“Thanks,” she said roughly. “I needed to hear that, even though I keep telling myself I don’t.” She rubbed his back. “I’ll stay away from your dad’s house.”
“I overreacted. He won’t hurt you, but sometimes he says stuff…” Chance shrugged. “Well, you heard him.”
“It didn’t bother me. I was more worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
