CHAPTER 6
BLAIRE
J une’s farmhouse used to be filled with the sound of laughter.
Every morning, June would drop the needle on vinyl, and Dolly Parton’s voice would pour up the stairs, seeping under my door until the sound forced me to burrow deeper under my blankets.
But my mama would always appear shortly after the music started, singing off-key, and finding my ankles beneath the covers. She’d tug until the morning light washed over my face, and I’d play possum until her fingers moved to my ribs, turning my pretend sleep into helpless giggles.
Then up I’d go, eyes still crusted with sleep and hair a mess of curls, until my bare feet balanced on the tops of hers. She’d spin me in circles across the worn floors until I was dizzy and happiness bubbled up from my belly.
But that had been years ago. Those mornings had unraveled into an emptiness, no matter how hard June tried not to let them.
It was laughter that reached me now, high-pitched and sweet, and it felt so foreign I thought I might be dreaming. But then the pounding in my head jolted me back to reality—to this bed, this room, and the string of bad decisions I’d made last night.
A groan passed my lips as I buried my face into my pillow, trying to escape the sunlight flooding my old bedroom and the rush of memories from the night before.
The Dusty Spur had been a mistake. I knew it was a risk that Colt would be there, and if I was being honest with myself, there was a small, foolish part of me that had hoped he would be.
That part of me had been desperate to see how much he’d changed and what parts of him had stayed the same. But Colt was still smug, bossy, and desire still hung between us.
My phone buzzed on my dresser, and I quickly grabbed it and flipped it over.
Maggie: You alive?
I smiled as I squinted at the screen and typed out a message.
Blaire: Barely. You?
Her next message was almost instant.
Maggie: It’s going to be a day. Come by the bakery. I’ll fill you up on coffee and sweets.
Blaire: You know the way to my heart already.
Colt had insisted he take me and Maggie home last night, and I should have fought against him instead of letting my stomach flip when he opened the passenger door and helped me climb into his truck.
He had said little on the drive, just gripped the wheel with those rough, calloused hands while I tried not to notice his forearm flexing every time he glanced my way.
We’d dropped Maggie off first, and I’d watched as Hunter walked her to her door.
The silence in the truck grew thick as Colt’s jaw stayed clenched and his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
I almost wished he’d snap at me, give me something to push back against. Instead, I sat drowning in the scent of him while liquor-soaked memories I’d spent years burying rose to the surface.
When we finally pulled into June’s driveway, Colt put the truck in park but let the engine idle. I could feel his stare as I gathered my things, and then I cursed under my breath when his door creaked open.
I opened my door before he could get to it, and he scowled as I climbed out and closed it softly. All the lights were off in June’s house except for the porch light I knew she’d left on for me, and I didn’t speak to Colt as I made my way toward the house.
Colt stood at the bottom of the stairs, and I paused halfway to the door. The world shifted ever so slightly on its axis before, “Thank you for the ride,” slipped out.
His eyes glinted beneath the porch light, searching in a way that made my skin prickle. “You good, Strawberry?” The nickname rolled off his tongue, slow as honey, and I hated the way it melted straight down my spine.
That was the trouble with nostalgia. My mind could recall every bit of hurt that he’d ever caused, but my body only remembered the brush of his fingertips, how they’d traced me as if I was territory he’d once claimed, how they’d left trails of heat I could still feel years later.
I should have hated him but standing in the porch light with him looking up at me like that, his focus tracing over the hollow of my throat and down the curve of my hips, made the hate slip through my fingers so easily.
Maybe that’s why, when I finally climbed into bed after peeling off my bar-tinged clothes, my skin still burned with an old, intimate ache of him.
A fresh peal of laughter drifted up the stairs, pulling me from my thoughts, and I frowned. I pushed up on my elbows as my hangover pulsed behind my eyes. That wasn’t June’s laugh. Hers was a smoky rasp, not this soft giggle chased by the patter of little feet.
My head throbbed as I dragged myself out of bed and grabbed a T-shirt from the floor, yanking it over my head before stumbling into a pair of shorts and out into the hallway. My mouth was dry, and I could smell traces of the night before clinging to my skin.
I let one hand trail over the faded wallpaper as I peered down the stairwell, but I saw no one.
I climbed down the stairs with the smell of biscuits and bacon pulling me forward, and I followed the sounds of laughter into the kitchen.
I nearly tripped over a bright pink sneaker, but when I looked up, I saw her.
A little girl stood on one of my grandma’s kitchen chairs near the stove, and she had a spoon dripping with a heaping spoonful of strawberry jam.
“Well, put it on the biscuit before you drop it all over the floor. You know I hate to mop.” June didn’t look up from where she stood, a small knife in one hand as she hulled a strawberry before grabbing another from the flat in front of her.
The girl couldn’t have been more than five years old, with dark brown hair pulled back in a lopsided ponytail. Wisps had escaped to frame her round face, and white puffs of flour coated the strands.
Freckles dusted across her cheeks and smears of strawberry jam clung to the corners of her mouth. She leaned forward as she balanced the wobbling, ruby-red mountain of jam on her spoon.
“Don’t make a mess, Ruby,” June cautioned before she finally noticed me. “Look who finally rolled out of bed.”
The little girl, Ruby, looked up at me then, and the moment her blue eyes met mine, blue eyes that were so achingly familiar, the ground tilted beneath me. Those eyes, framed by dark lashes that matched her messy ponytail, widened with curiosity and her fair cheeks flushed pink as she took me in.
June set her knife down on the scarred butcher block as she turned to the girl, but I barely registered it. All I could do was stare at the child, at the impossible riot of recognition as Colt’s eyes blinked back at me from that tiny, heart-shaped face.
I must have been standing there too long because June cleared her throat and slid a coffee cup across the island to me. I pulled my eyes away from the girl, and I gripped the mug in my trembling hands and forced myself to take a sip.
The jam finally tumbled from her spoon, slopping onto the biscuit, and Ruby grinned, dimples flashing in her cheeks mirroring the pair I’d spent years trying to forget on Colt’s face.
“Perfect,” June said, her posture softening a fraction. “Now take it over to the table so you can eat.”
Ruby clambered down from the chair, and June handed her the plate. She moved to the table, glancing over her shoulder at me before plopping into the seat I’d sat in my whole life.
June slid me a plate with two biscuits and a stack of crispy bacon. “Eat,” she commanded with a tilt of her chin toward the table.
Before I could protest, she’d already turned back to her strawberries, leaving me no choice but to face Ruby, who was cramming half a biscuit into her tiny mouth.
I moved to the table and took the seat across from her. She held the biscuit in both hands, and she didn’t look away from me as she took another giant bite.
There was only one question on my mind as we watched each other, and it blared so loud I was sure June could hear it rattling between my ears. But her back was still to us as she rinsed her hands in the sink, humming to herself.
Ruby licked the last of the jam from her fingers, then cocked her head at me. “Are you Ms. June’s granddaughter?”
“Yes.” I nodded, tearing off a small piece of bacon. “I’m Blaire.”
Ruby blinked slowly, as if weighing my answer. “But you’re big.” Her dark eyebrows scrunched together.
“Never said she was little, Ruby. Just that she was my granddaughter,” June called over her shoulder as she twisted the faucet handle.
“This blows.” Ruby huffed, folding her little arms tight across her chest.
I nearly inhaled my bacon. “What?—”
“Ruby Louise.” June’s voice cut through before I could finish. “Your uncles need to have their mouths washed out with soap.”
“They told me I could say that.” Her blue eyes went round as she glanced toward my grandmother.
Ruby Louise.
“Your middle name is Louise?” I asked, my heart racing. The only Louise I’d ever known was Colt and Hunter’s mother. Everyone called her Lou, except their father whenever he was trying to sweet talk her into something.
Ruby nodded as she looked back and forth between me and June. “After my nana. Daddy says I’m named after the prettiest girl in the world.” She paused, dimples deepening. “But now I’m the prettiest.”
Her words hung in the air, and I shot a look at June, who suddenly found something fascinating about the strawberry she was turning over in her fingers, refusing to meet my gaze, though I knew she could feel it burning into her.
I forced a shaky laugh, my pulse thundering in my ears. “And who’s your daddy, Ruby?”
She beamed, as if it was the easiest answer in the world. “Colt Calloway.”
Heat flared hot and fast in my chest, searing through my ribs until I could barely breathe. How dare he look at me the way he had last night, eyes hungry with memories and want, when all this time he’d been building a life?
A family.
My breath caught in my throat as the room seemed to tilt. The coffee mug trembled in my hands, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Of course I had been building a life too, but he had a daughter.
He had a daughter with someone else.
I tried to picture him as a father—tying her little pink sneakers, pulling her hair into the sloppy ponytail, wiping jam from the corners of her mouth with the same calloused fingers I used to trace with my own.
The image tore through me.
There had been a time, there had been so many years, when I’d imagined it would be us. His hand on my belly. His laugh chasing through a house filled with our children.
Now I sat drowning in the blue of Ruby’s eyes, in the future that would never be mine. The dreams I thought I’d buried beneath years and miles clawed their way back up just to gut me.
And the cruelest part was that the life I had pictured for us still fit him so perfectly.
He was living the life I had always wanted while I’d spent years with a man whose touch never once made me imagine the swell of my belly or whose eye color our children would have.
“Do you know my daddy?” Ruby’s voice was so sweet, so trusting.
I cleared my throat, forcing a smile. “Yeah. I’ve known your dad a long time.”
Her eyes lit up. “Are you friends?”
“Ah.” I tilted my head from side to side. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
“They used to be,” June cut in, her voice too bright. “The two of them were inseparable.”
Ruby bounced up onto her knees in the chair, her eyes wide. “Really?”
I shook my head. “That was a lifetime ago.”
June slid a bowl of hulled strawberries onto the counter. “Colt is working this morning, and I thought you might want to take Ruby down to the lake for a swim. The water should be perfect today.”
My head snapped toward her so fast pain lanced through my temples. “What?”
Ruby clapped her hands together, biscuit crumbs scattering across the table. “Yes, please!”
“Ruby had a sleepover with her grandparents last night, but today is my turn with my girl. Lou said she was up before sunrise and already talking about the lake.” My girl . A girl June had never told me about because I’d always shut her down when it came to talking about Colt.
June walked to the table, her weathered hand smoothing Ruby’s wild flyaways before she leaned down to press her lips against the crown of her head. Then she straightened, fixing me with a glare I’d known since childhood.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask where her mother was, but I bit it back, swallowing hard. I had no right. I had no business trying to picture the woman who stood where I once thought I’d be.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I shook my head softly, trying to think of what to say without upsetting her.
“Go get washed up,” June spoke softly to Ruby, and the girl darted off to the sink before dragging a chair across the floor so she could reach the faucet.
June moved closer, her words low and meant only for me. “She’s a good girl,” she said, her eyes softening as they followed Ruby. “It’s been a tough couple years. Lots of changes.”
Her gaze locked on mine, and I felt the weight of it settle over me.
“She’s Colt’s daughter,” I said the only thing I knew to say, the only thing I needed to. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
June’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Like you would have listened? I’ve tried to tell you a million things about that boy over the years, but every time I said his name, you shut it down. You told me you didn’t want to hear about his life here.”
Shame crawled up my neck. It was true.
“She needs…kindness.” June glanced over at Ruby before looking back at me.
I swallowed, my throat tight. I was so damn angry. Not with Ruby, but with the part of myself that still wanted what I’d buried. I was irrationally angry with June for not telling me, even when I’d made it impossible for her to do so. “And you think I’m the one to give it to her?”
“I think you’re the one who’s here.” June’s voice was firm again, but there was a glint of something behind it.
“She was begging Colt to take her swimming when he dropped her off this morning, but that man has been buried in work at the ranch. Take her down to the lake. It’ll do you both some good. ”
The lake where I’d spent my summers with Colt, where I’d given him every part of me when I still believed I’d always be his.
I wanted to protest, to remind her exactly why this was a terrible idea, but then Ruby came skipping back to the table, ponytail bouncing. And when she looked up at me with those wide blue eyes, Colt’s eyes, the words died in my throat.
“Are we going swimming?” she asked, her voice so hopeful.
I forced a smile and prayed she couldn’t see the way my chest ached when I looked at her. “Well, Ruby. It looks like we don’t have any other choice.”