“Come here, baby girl.”
I let myself sag into my aunt’s embrace. The threat of tears eased away, but I couldn’t shake my sorrow for all I’d lost.
“Your Mama loved you so much.” She pulled back to hold my face in her hands. Steel blue eyes exactly like my father’s stared into mine. “It’s a crime she’s gone. I know you miss her something awful. But you still have folks who love you, family who would do anything for you. Don’t ever forget that.”
I nodded, searching for the strength to speak. “I won’t.”
“We’re here for you no matter what. Always.”
My aunt’s reassurances couldn’t erase my mother’s loss, but they reminded me I wasn’t alone. For now, that was enough.
* * *
By the time I pulled onto Victory Ranch that afternoon, the horses were already out to pasture, enjoying a cooling breeze. The previous day’s summer storm had blown away, leaving only patches of drying mud behind. Aaron worked one of the younger colts in the round pen, but the rest of the horses stretched their legs in freedom.
I went straight to the barn, where Ty sat on a low bench watching Aaron’s progress. Finally, he was taking a break for a change, instead of stalking around the ranch like a wounded animal on a mission to make his injury worse. As if sensing my approval, he stood as soon as he noticed me.
“June.” He sounded as though I’d caught him doing something shameful instead of just sitting down. “Good to see you.”
He wore an indigo button-down rolled at the sleeves, his ever-present Stetson shading his eyes. Why did just being around Ty have to make my legs go all wobbly and my mind come screeching to a halt? All I could think about was how his rolled shirt sleeves showed off his forearms and the sinewy muscles exposed there. His dark gaze was all kinds of wonderful. I had the crazy impulse to kiss the man hello.
He looked me over a little more pointedly. “Are you okay?”
“Sure.” I shook off my ogling and tried to pull my senses together. “Why?”
“You seem out of sorts.”
My emotions were a spaghetti mess over that kiss I obviously hadn’t managed to forget, and the growing tenderness I felt for this man who as good as said he didn’t/wouldn’t/couldn’t feel the same. I supposed that probably qualified as out of sorts. Throw in the waves of grief that had tried to drown me at Eden’s dress fitting, and I could use a little bourbon-spiked tea myself.
“I guess I’m just thinking about a conversation I had with Pop,” I said, tugging on a pair of rubber boots. The truth, even if it wasn’t the only source of my distress. Thoughts of Pop and Marilyn elbowed in between thoughts of Ty, giving me even more reasons to fret. I grabbed the wheelbarrow and pitchfork and started mucking the first stall while Ty looked on. “He’s dating someone, if you can believe it.”
I couldn’t believe it yet. Dating didn’t seem the right word for people in their sixties. The idea conjured images of my father and Marilyn Wells sharing polite but formal meetings over coffee, neither quite knowing what to say. Long walks where she lightly held his arm and they talked over retirement plans. Pop on Marilyn’s doorstep with a corsage. Adorable and disconcerting both at once.
Ty nodded. “Yeah, I suppose he is.”
I stopped mid-scoop. “Wait. Did you know he’s seeing Marilyn Wells? Did he tell you?”
Guilt twitched across his face as he seemed to rethink his original answer. “I’ve seen them together around town and put two and two together.”
“You saw them a lot?”
Now he looked like he didn’t want to answer at all. “A few times.”
Ty wasn’t a gossipy man. If he had come to the conclusion my father and Marilyn were an item, they were doing more than talking shyly over coffee or taking chaste walks in the park. Had he seen them holding hands? Snuggling? Kissing?
My stomach roiled at the image. I wasn’t a child. As much as I missed my mother, I could handle my father having alady friend. Probably. Maybe? I’d never had to deal with it before—how could I know?
“Why don’t people tell me things?” I said half to myself, going back to mucking out the stall. “Wade and Jed knew for months, and they never said a word.”
Jed’s knowing glances and odd requests for dinner guests made sense now in light of Pop’s revelation. He’d been trying to nudge our father into confessing about his love life, but he hadn’t bothered to tell me directly. It was Pop’s secret, I supposed, but still. Jed might have told me.
“I was in college when my old dog Buster died, and Mom and Pop didn’t call me for almost a week.” I put my frustrations into every movement of the pitchfork, mucking the first stall in record time. “When Mom got her diagnosis, they didn’t tell me for three days. When Bret—” I paused, letting a scoop of manure hit the wheelbarrow with a significant thump. “Well, you can guess whathedidn't tell me. Why don’t people just tell me things?”
When Ty didn’t answer, I moved out of the stall to look at him. I thought maybe I’d rambled on too long until he lost interest, but instead of finding irritation in his eyes, his expression reflected pure tenderness.
“Maybe they just don’t want to hurt you,” he finally said.
“Still not a great reason to keep secrets.”
