Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
ETHAN
C amden sprints to the porch of the farmhouse the second the truck’s doors unlock. I sigh and grab his bag from the back seat, scooping the tractors he’d dropped onto the floor in his rush to find Mom. She steps out onto the porch as I’m starting up the stairs, a mug in her hands. She’s dressed in jeans today, and her hair is already styled.
“You’re later than I was expecting,” Mom says as she hugs Camden. Her eyes are on me, though. “I already watered the garden.”
Camden doesn’t seem to mind, holding tight to her leg as he looks up at her. “Can we make brownies? Aunt Emily mentioned brownies on our hike yesterday. And you make the best ones, Grandma.”
She laughs and guides him inside, holding the door for me, too.
“Sure, sweetie. Want to help me grab everything?”
Camden nods as he pulls off his shoes, and then he’s running to the kitchen. Mom and I are slower to follow him. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, already scowling. Anyone texting before seven in the morning has bad news. It’s an unspoken rule about ranching. I swipe open the text from Beau.
Triston says the creek is running, so we shouldn’t need to move cattle until next week. Friday at the earliest.
Well, that just opened up my day.
Great. Have him organize it for Monday. We’ll double check conditions Friday and then again Sunday just to be sure.
“Dad said you’re having to move one of the herds again,” Mom says, pulling me away from my phone.
“That was the plan, but Triston says we’re good to wait a bit longer.” She sets a mug in front of me before pulling ingredients from the pantry. I slide into one of the seats perched at the island. “So now my day is magically free.”
At least until guilt gets the best of me and I finally sit down to do some admin work while Camden is distracted with screen time this afternoon.
Camden looks up from where he’s moving the step stool over to the counter.
“Daddy doesn’t have to work?”
I shake my head. “But you can still hang out with Grandma, kid.”
God knows there’s a thousand things that need to be done for the ranch—just none of them pressing enough to be labeled dire at the moment. He races around the island, abandoning the step stool.
“Can we ride?” Camden asks, leaning into my leg, wrapping his arms around it. His eyes are wide. “Please, Daddy?”
“I thought you were going to make brownies with Grandma,” I say.
Camden frowns as he pulls away from me until he can see Mom. She’s leaning against the island, her coffee back in her hand, a small smile playing at her lips.
“Sorry, Grandma,” he offers.
Her smile widens. “We’ll make them next time you’re over instead.”
He giggles and then races for the door, all thoughts of staying inside forgotten.
I sigh and set the mug of coffee on the island before following him outside.
I’m not as good at riding double with Camden as Caleb is. Partly because Maple doesn’t like me as much as some of the others in the family and partly because I don’t have the same level of patience for being uncomfortable as Caleb. He’s used to being stuck in a small ass cockpit where he can’t stretch his legs. Even when on horseback for several hours, there’s ways to stretch. Not when you’re riding double, though. And the elbows in my side and stomach aren’t a selling point, either.
“You want to work with Nyx in the arena?” I ask once we’re walking toward the private barn.
He tilts his head, biting his lip. It makes his single dimple show up. My stomach twists.
I hate that my stomach does that. I hate that sometimes when I look at my son, all I feel is grief and anger and heartbreak. I shove the feelings down before Cam realizes that something’s off. Kids are so fucking perceptive to things like that. I never want him to think I regret him. I don’t.
I just never expected to see him grow up without Kayla involved.
My phone rings, cutting my pity party short, and I dig it out again.
“Cam, kid, it’s Papa. You want to say hi?”
He smiles, the question of riding Nyx instead of going for a trail ride forgotten for the moment. He runs back toward me, and I scoop him into an arm, propping him on my hip, before answering the video call and handing Cam the phone.
“Hi Papa!” he says the moment Caleb’s face comes into view.
I tune out their chatter and focus on crossing the pasture. The green SUV is back, parked a small distance from the private barn. My steps slow without me meaning to. I’ve seen that car enough around town to know exactly who it belongs to.
Fuck me.
I’ve managed an entire fucking week without seeing her, not since I walked into my own goddamn barn and was confronted with the ghost of a life I had ten years ago. Consider it good luck… or tactful avoidance. Either way, the last thing I need right now is to be confronted with Brielle Ashford’s sumptuous body and take-me eyes. My dick twitches, but I ignore it.
“Ethan?” Caleb’s voice draws me back to the call.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Should be home late tomorrow or early Thursday.”
“Sounds good,” I offer.
Setting Camden back on his feet, I cross the last ten feet to the barn’s entrance before I lose my nerves.
Because there’s not a chance in hell I’m nervous. There’s no goddamn reason for me to even be nervous. She’s just a woman.
A woman that I fucked.
A woman that I spent an entire summer fucking.
A woman that’s haunted my dreams for the better part of the last decade.
There I fucking go again.
Camden grabs my hand, wrapping his fingers around one of my own. He holds up the phone to me.
“Here, Daddy.”
“I’ll text if anything changes,” Caleb says once I’ve taken the phone back.
We say a quick goodbye.
Camden runs ahead of me, straight through the open barn doors and into the building. I take a bit longer.
I’m not hesitating. I’m just… collecting myself.
“This barn is private property, ma’am.”
Beau’s voice cuts through the quiet and has my feet moving before I feel anywhere close to ready.
A cool, steady voice responds, “I have permission from Emily.”
Beau grunts.
“She hasn’t—” His voice cuts off and gains a different, more worried edge. “Cam, you can’t just come flying in like that. I could’ve had Minthe out here instead of Phoebe.”
The relative darkness of the barn takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to.
Brielle stands in front of Phoebe’s stall. The horse is tied out just in front of it, using the ring designed exactly for that purpose, the knot of the lead rope a bit messy but effective nonetheless. She’s already saddled. The horse’s nose presses into Brielle’s hand as the silence extends into the territory of uncomfortable.
I force my gaze to skip over Brielle. Beau stands a few stalls down. His arms are crossed, a frown etched deeply into his face.
“I have Phoebe out,” Brielle murmurs, the same collected tone.
Something a bit too close to admiration warms my chest at her easy standoff with Beau. He might be a Beta, but she’s still an Omega. They crave comfort and safety. Conflict is something most of them outright avoid. It’s part of the reason I took over the family ranch from Emily when Brandon died. Melissa needed an Alpha running Misty Mountain with her to keep people from bulldozing right over her. And I have no patience for tourists even on a good day.
Phoebe looks at me and blows out a huff of air, her ears pinning back.
Camden runs up to Brielle, though, and waves before I can pull him toward Nyx’s stall.
“Bri!” he shrieks. “Are you riding today, too? We’re taking Nyx into the arena so I can practice. I have to have Daddy pull my saddle, though. I’m still too little.”
Beau starts to say something, but I cut him off.
“Beau, meet Brielle. She’s Melissa’s friend.” I walk past Brielle, not looking at her. I work on getting Nyx’s stall open and him pulled into the main walkway. “Emily’s given her permission to use any of her or Melissa’s horses. And I let her include Phoebe with that.”
I intentionally keep my gaze away from her. She’s just another woman, just another person using our barn for housing horses.
Beau’s face lightens. “Oh, you’re the friend of Melissa’s that’s been working Phoebe the last week.” He closes the distance between them and holds out his hand. Brielle takes it after a moment of hesitation. “I’m Beau. Sorry for the rough start. We’ve just had a couple problems with people walking in here without permission. A few of the horses in here are pretty skittish.”
I swallow the possessive growl that tries to rip up my throat. I force my gaze away, trying to stamp out the violent aggression being near this woman is bringing out. There’s no reason for it. I can’t even fucking scent her from over here.
No, it’s just me caught up in memories of the past.
My movements are jerky where I focus on Nyx.
“Nice to meet you,” Brielle says.
I glance over my shoulder. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t touch her eyes. There’s that same half-beaten feel to the way she holds herself as there was the last time I saw her.
It gets harder to hold down the growl.
“I’m going for a ride today,” Brielle says, her voice changing into a softer croon, focusing on my son. “But you work with Nyx, all right?”
Camden sighs before nodding. He crosses the walkway until he’s standing with me, his hand pressed flat to the back of my thigh.
“Let’s grab his saddle and then we’ll get you up, kid,” I tell him.
He smiles, and then turns to wave as Brielle guides Phoebe out of the barn. She offers him a small smile and then swings into the saddle, the movement so graceful it could be something she’s done a thousand times.
She hasn’t. Not unless that finance asshole decided to buy out a ranch on the East Coast. Thoughts of her husband make that rage grow hotter. I force another deep breath. And then I walk into the tack room, stilling my mind so I can actually focus on my son.