“Yeah, well, you’re back now.” She gives me a look that's all acid and threats. “Right?”
I jerk a nod. “Aurora’s gonna need a community, and I’ll need help.”
What I don’t tell her is that I’ve missed home—missed her, Mom, and the twins. The flowers, animals, and bees. I don’t tell her my feet have missed standing on Archer soil, or that my hands are desperate for a hard day’s worth of labor.
And I don’t tell her that, whether I get Aurora or not, there’s no place I’d rather restart my life than here.
She scoffs. “Nice.”
My fingers tighten on the reins, smooth leather brushing my callouses. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“You don’t wanna know what’s on my mind right now, big brother, because it sure as fuck ain’t sweet.”
“Come on, Hazel,” I say with a grunt, shoving her a bit. “You’ve never held back the truth from me before. Don’t start walking on eggshells now.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her body swaying with the heavy steps of Orion walking through thick mud.
I try to smile, try to reassure her I can take it, but honestly, I’m not sure. Hazel Archer has a sharp tongue and a deadly honest streak. She tells it how she sees it and never pulls punches. And I’ve got a decade worth of anger coming for me.
“Fine,” she snaps. “You talk about family, but your family has needed you for years. I’ve called you, practically begged you to come help ever since Dad passed. You lost him, but so did we.” Her chin drops to her chest, shoulders lifting on a deep breath. “I think what you’re doing for that little girl is amazing, but I hate that Marlee dying is what’s finally dragging you back here.”
“It’s not about Marlee—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“No, maybe nother, but in a way she’s responsible, and I hate that. She pushed you to join the fucking Army in the first place. Wanted you to make money to build her dream life, andthen when you were almost done, after you’d mailed her all your checks, she dropped your ass and moved on.”
Heart racing, gut protesting, I choke on her words and try to breathe through the burn, but she doesn’t stop—pushing on, determined to knock me off my own horse with the truth.
“She was a user, Kade. She used you and our family all throughout high school so she could get a sense of normalcy, and I felt bad for the girl, I really fucking did, but God, Kade, she hated the farm. Hated the country and all things Heart Springs, and you have country in your veins. That was never going to be fair to you.”
She swallows hard, and so do I.
“She broke up with you in the worst way possible, while you were in a dangerous place, and without your family. And because of that, we lost you for a long damn time.” Hazel sucks in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry Marlee died. But I’m not sorry that you’re back. I just don’t understand how, even from the grave, she’s still found a way to leave you worse off than when she found you.”
My mouth is dry, heart lodged in my fucking lungs, and while her words are built on truth and painful reality, there’s something she said that rubs against my soul.
“You ain’t wrong about Marlee,” I admit, running my fingers through my hair. “It took a few years in the desert to work it out, but eventually, I saw it for what it was.”
I think Marlee May loved me the best she could, and for a while, wewerebest friends dreaming up a future. But she always wanted out, she never kept that a secret.
Guess I always just hoped I could change her mind.
Maybe if the house was nice, the land was pretty, and the dreams were big, she’d find a way to share them with me—for me.
“Her decision to leave her child to me is mind-boggling, I know that. I still haven’t wrapped my brain around it.” I thinkback to the first day I met Aurora, the feeling of her in my arms while she babbled up at me—it was unlike anything else. “But having Aurora in my life, as my…”
I exhale and look her in the eyes.
“Hazy, having that sweet girl as my daughter, blood or not—it’s not a fuckin’ mistake and there’s no way in hell it’s leaving me worse off. That baby’s not even mine yet, and she’s already saving me.”
Hazel hums, but doesn’t say anything, just falls into step next to me. She’s not one for extra words, or some grand declaration. I can count the times she’s apologized to anyone on both hands, and the times she’s cried on one.
Maybe that’s why we’ve always gotten along so well. We both love the quiet—and hate talking shit out even more.
Allergic to emotions, she used to call it.
