Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
CALEB
C amden twists in my lap, lodging one of his elbows in my side before I can manage to stop him. He ducks his head under my arm, focusing on where the women ride behind us on the trail. Maple shakes his head, and I loosen the reins just a bit. We’re nearly to the Arch, which means we’re nearly to the point where I can get feeling back in my hips and thighs.
“Bri, why do you live at Aunt Emily’s house?” he asks.
“Bud, that’s not really a thing people ask,” I mutter. “It’s not considered polite.”
Camden looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed hard enough that the line is between them again. “Well that’s a stupid rule.”
Brielle laughs behind us. Something loosens in my chest at the soft sound. She’s been incredibly quiet this entire ride. If not for the small smiles and relaxed body posture I’d noticed the few times I chanced glancing back, I would be seriously concerned she wasn’t enjoying herself.
I want her to enjoy herself.
Fuck, it’s been a long ass time since I felt that desire to make an Omega happy.
“I live in her guest house because I don’t have a house here,” she answers easily enough. The laughter is in her voice, too.
“Why don’t you?” Camden asks, unabashed.
The silence is longer this time. I chance a glance over my shoulder. Brielle’s head is tilted, a thoughtful look on her face. She runs a hand down Phoebe’s shoulder while she thinks over her answer.
“Well,” she says slowly. “I think that buying a place to live can be a little nerve-wracking. It’s something you don’t really want to rush into. So I’m going to stay at Emily’s until I figure out where I want to live permanently.”
Camden frowns before nodding. “You could live with us. There’s a room with a bed that Papa and Daddy don’t use.”
Emily chokes on her breath, and Brielle’s cheeks flush a dark red that just brings out the subtle maroon highlights in her hair. My heart picks up at the sight, a flash of need tearing through my body and making my already uncomfortable set up with Camden even worse. I ease Maple onto the side trail. Before anyone can decide exactly what to say in response to Camden’s offer, I grab him around the waist and pull him into my chest as I lean forward in the saddle, doing my best to help Maple with the grade of the last climb.
Camden giggles and nestles into my hold. His head cradles against the crook of my shoulder. Affection warms my chest, and I press a kiss to the crown of his hair. Maple clears the last of the grade, and the trail levels out, spreading into a small clearing. Across it, where the trail continues disappearing through the forest, stands the Arch. Camden claps his hands.
“Yay!” he cheers. “Papa, can I go climbing, please?”
“You have to give me a chance to help you get down,” Emily says, laughter in her voice, too. She comes up beside us a few moments later and holds out her hands. Camden climbs into her arms without hesitation, and then I ease out of the saddle and walk Maple over to where Emily’s tied out Redwood on a low lying pine branch a few feet just inside the clearing.
“Bri, come climb!” Camden says.
He races through the clearing a moment later, not waiting for any of us to respond. Brielle stands at the edge of the clearing, her hand tight enough where it grabs Phoebe’s lead rope that her knuckles are white.
“Here, let me help,” I offer, crossing to where she’s standing.
Her throat ripples with a swallow, and she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“All right,” she whispers.
I ease the rope from her death grip and guide Phoebe to the others, tying her out on the other side of Redwood.
“You all right, Bri?” Emily asks.
She stands a few feet away from her, arms tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, her brows furrowed with her concerned frown. Brielle’s posture is softer… and more fragile seeming, at least to my eyes. Her shoulders are slightly rounded, and her arms are crossed over her belly, almost like it’s an involuntary response to something the rest of us haven’t noticed yet.
She bites at her lip before tearing her gaze away from the Arch. Her lips part, but Camden cuts off her response.
“Bri, come climb!” When she looks over at him, he giggles. “Look at how far I can get!”
He’s only a few feet off the ground, not even reaching the bend in the tree as it starts across the trail. But his grin is so wide, his dimple is in full view, and her eyes are bright with his laughter. Fuck, I love that my son is such a happy kid.
After another long moment, she crosses the open space, leaning against the tree, her head tilted so she can still see Camden. Some of her nerves bleed away. I manage to relax, too.
Emily stares at me, her eyes seeing too much, but I ignore her. I pat Maple’s rump as I walk past him and join the others.
Camden, just like always, is happy to do all the talking. It keeps the birds from settling in the clearing, and the deer are far enough away that I can’t even see them through the trees.
Of course, if I wanted a chance to actually see the wildlife on a ride, I wouldn’t bring a four-year-old. Being subtle isn’t really their specialty.
“Bri,” Camden says. His tongue sticks out as he works to find a way higher on the tree. His foot slips, and Brielle takes a step closer, adjusting so she stands underneath him rather than off to the side. “Bri, do you like the rodeo?”
Brielle says, “I’ve never been. Do you like the rodeo?”
Camden looks down at her, his eyes wide in his surprise. “You haven’t ever been? Do they not have rodeos where you were before? Grandma said it was a big city. Is it big like Jackson? That’s a big town.”
Brielle smiles. I lean against a tree, tucking my hands in my pockets, content to watch them interact. Emily pulls a blanket she had rolled on the back of Redwood’s saddle, shaking it out and then settling on it, leaning back until the sun lights across her face.
“It’s bigger than Jackson,” she says. Camden slips again, and he loses his hold on the tree. Brielle catches him without missing a beat before I can even push off the tree I’m leaning against. My breath catches. Three feet isn’t super tall, but it can still break a wrist if the person lands just wrong. “And there’s a rodeo that happens in January every year, but I never went to it.”
Camden nods as she sets him down.
“Papa, do you have a snack?” he asks, looking over at me. Before I can answer, he turns back to Brielle. “I love the rodeo. It’s so fun. One time I got to ride a sheep. I don’t remember what it’s called. We’re going tomorrow ‘cuz Daddy’s friend is riding bulls.”
Brielle’s eyebrow rises, and she glances at Emily.
“Toddlers ride sheep?” she asks, her voice as uncertain as her look.
I can’t decide if she’s appalled at the idea or simply surprised.
Emily laughs. “It’s called mutton busting. And they wear helmets. Cam’s not actually old enough to do it for the event during the rodeo. You have to be five. But Triston let him try it out behind the scenes.”
“Papa, snack?” Camden asks, running up to me.
I take his hand and walk back to Maple, pulling the small snack I’d packed from the bag draped over his saddle. Camden purses his lips as he surveys the options. After a minute, he blows out a breath and races over to where Emily’s laid out on the blanket, plopping down next to her with all the grace of a linebacker.
“Triston?” Brielle asks, perching on a rock that juts out of wildflowers. She picks one of the small white wildflowers growing around its base and twists it into the braid opposite the flower Cam gave her. “He works on the Monroe Ranch, right?”
A possessive growl rumbles through my chest, but I keep it locked down. I lean against Maple’s rump instead of closing the distance, though, not trusting myself to be anything other than an asinine idiot.
“Oh, yeah,” Emily says. “He rides bulls, too. He’s trying to get enough points to get off the amateur circuit. If he wins tomorrow night and Brooks loses by at least two positions, it’ll probably be enough for next season.”
Brielle nods. “I hope it goes well for him, then.”
Camden shoves a pretzel in his mouth and asks, “Are you going, too, Bri?”
Brielle tilts her head. “I’m not sure. Melissa doesn’t really like the rodeo. It makes her sad.”
“Oh, because of my dad,” Camden says without missing a beat. “He liked doing something in it. What’s it called, Papa? What my dad did when I was a baby?”
My throat grows thick. “Roping, bud. It’s called roping. And he did it before you were born.”
“Right. Roping.” Every third “r” he pronounces is garbled, but it doesn’t seem to affect Brielle being able to understand him. He frowns before eating a piece of cheese.
A new calm settles over us, and I hear birds for the first time since we’ve been here. I leave the relative safety of Maple and settle next to Camden. He crawls into my lap, smiling as he adjusts so his cheek presses against my chest.
He grabs a pretzel and holds it up, looking at Brielle.
“Bri, do you want a pretzel?”