Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Ranch
“Salem,” Dad mumbled as his eyes opened.
I clam-shelled my laptop and set it aside. “Hey. Good nap?”
“Not bad.” He propped himself up against the pillows. “Can I get some water?”
I rose from the plush, comfortable chair and walked to his nightstand to pick up the half-drunk glass of water that had a straw stuck in it.
“It’s room temperature,” I said.
“That’s fine.”
I went to his bedside, angled the straw, and held it out to him.
“I’ll take the glass,” he said.
I hesitated.
“I’m not an invalid. Don’t treat me like one.”
Smiling, I gave him the glass. “Now I know you’re going to be okay.”
Dad finished off the water and I took the glass from him and set it aside.
“How long have you been here?”
“About an hour,” I said. “After I got back from lunch with Jane, I relieved Muddy of her watching you sleep duties.”
“It’s going to be a long recovery if there’s always someone by my bedside,” he quipped. “Lunch with Jane?”
“I want you to be happy, Dad,” I said.
“You do?”
I nodded.
“I want you to be happy too. Are you happy?”
“Right this minute?” I smiled, but it trembled. “Yeah. We’re talking without yelling. Of course I’m happy.”
“Salem.”
“Don’t worry about me, Dad. Just get well. And rest up. You’ve got to be able to watch Hadley walk down the aisle without falling asleep.”
“You think she’ll ever forgive me? For not being able to walk her down the aisle?”
“She wanted to postpone the wedding.”
“She did?”
I nodded. “I talked her out of it, though.”
“Good.” He messed with the covers and finally tugged them off.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to the bathroom.” He took a moment, and then he slowly moved his legs to the edge of the bed. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
I hung back. My father’s masculine pride was at stake. Still, I didn’t want him to fall. He eventually made it to the bathroom on his own, but by the time he got back into bed, he was exhausted.
“Soup?” I asked.
“No thanks,” he said as his lids began to close. “Maybe later.”
I grabbed my computer and crept from the room. The house was quiet. Muddy had gone for a ride to get some air, so I had the place to myself.
I walked into the den and looked at the family photos on the mantle. My grandmother’s half-crocheted project. The ashes in the fireplace.
This house was a home. It offered more than shelter. It offered comfort.
Hadley’s baby would crawl around on these floors.
Christmas morning would be filled with presents and matching pajamas, Muddy’s chocolate chip pancakes, and hot chocolate with a little spice added to it.
Tempest would curl up next to the fire and fall asleep.
Dad and Jane would . . .
Well, they’d get married. And have at least one kid.
And where would I be?
Back in New York. Working in a high-rise building with glass windows and empty take-out boxes. Smushing myself into a subway car during early morning rush hour. Getting my heels caught in sidewalk grates. Going home to an apartment that still had my friends, but not my sister.
There was a fork in the road. A clear fork.
I could go back to New York. I could get on the hamster wheel and pray that I’d be able to carve out some time for Thanksgiving or Christmas to come home . . . but not both, because there would never be enough time off for both if I chose that life.
And there would be men. Gorgeous, suit-clad men, who didn’t understand me or how I’d grown up. I’d be forever hungry in New York. Hungry for the one true human connection I’d ever made that I’d run away from because it had been too powerful.
I’d always gone after what I wanted. Even if I hadn’t known what that was, I knew if I dove headfirst in a direction, I’d eventually find my way. I always did.
But at this moment, my way seemed to be leading me back to my roots. Back to something I never thought I’d want again.
A Family.
A home.
Love.
Living with regret was something I’d never do.
So, I opened my phone and stared at the screen for a moment. Then I scrolled to his name and pressed it.
His phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Until it switched over to voicemail.
It beeped.
“Please,” I said. “Please come back.”
And then I hung up and hoped like hell I hadn’t fucked it all up.
“I can’t believe I get to hug your faces in a week!” Wyn said, a huge smile spreading across her lips.
“I’m literally ex-ing off days on the calendar,” Poet added as she held up a black marker.
I got up from the couch in the cabin and went to refill my glass of lemonade. Declan had gone into town with Harlan to hang out with Wade, leaving me and Hadley to have sister time in their cabin.
“One more week, and then we get to show you the town, the ranch, and maybe chain you to the porch so you can never leave,” Hadley said.
“Chain? Please, throw away the key,” Poet said.
I came back and took a seat next to Hadley. “Work still dragging you hard?”
“It’s the worst,” Poet grumbled.
“She comes home and cries every day,” Wyn said.
Poet frowned. “You weren’t supposed to tell them that.”
The phone shook and Wyn quickly righted it. “How long are you going to stick out the misery for?”
“I don’t know,” Poet said. “It’s gotta give, right? I’m working toward something. It would be a shame to throw it all away because it sucks in the interim. A vacation in Huckleberry Hill will give me the break I need to go back there and kick ass.”
“Or at least kick Alma’s ass,” Wyn quipped.
Tempest jumped up onto my lap, and then flopped down onto it.
“It’s only a matter of time before Salem gets a matching goat,” Poet said.
“Nah, I’m not into farm animals,” I said, even as I stroked Tempest’s head.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Wyn said.
“I’m ranch fluff,” I explained. “I’m here for the vibes, not the poop.”
“So how did the final dress fitting go?” Poet asked.
“Good,” Hadley said. “You can’t even tell I’m pregnant when I put it on.”
“Why are you frowning, Salem?” Poet wondered.
“Oh, because even though Hadley looks gorgeous, my dress doesn’t fit,” I said. “That was a fun little surprise.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t fit?” Wyn demanded. “Did they get your measurements wrong?”
“Maybe? I dunno, I’m bloated,” I said. “It might be the poutine every morning and the butter Hadley puts in everything.”
“Hmm, butter,” Wyn said in understanding.
“What’s with the face,” Hadley said to Poet.
“Hmm? Oh, just—well, yeah. I don’t want to say it.”
“Say it,” I said.
The door to the cabin opened, effectively ending whatever Poet was going to say. Tempest jumped off my lap in order to greet Declan.
“Oh, damn,” he said. “I came back too early, didn’t I?”
“I thought you were going to stay out with Harlan all night. And by all night, I mean at least until ten,” Hadley said with a grin.
“I left him to it. He and Wade are fast buds,” Declan explained.
“Hey Declan!” Wyn called out.
Hadley turned the phone toward Declan who grinned. “Ladies.” He came over to Hadley and kissed her forehead. “Missed you.”
“Awwww.” Poet giggled. “We’re still here, you know.”
“On that note,” Hadley said. “Talk to you guys later.”
“Good night!” Wyn called out.
Hadley hung up with them and I rose. “That’s my cue.”
I closed the door to the cabin and went down the porch steps. It was still light out, and the sun wouldn’t set for at least another hour, so it was easy to see the path to the house.
As I got closer, I saw a motorcycle out front.
My heart tripped with emotion.
The house was quiet as I went inside—Dad’s door was closed, and he was probably asleep. I peeked into Hadley’s room, but Cas wasn’t there. With a sigh of frustration, I traipsed downstairs and opened the sliding glass door.
Cas stood on the deck, his back facing me, acting as though he hadn’t heard my approach.
I paused, unsure of what to do.
Finally, he turned.
It had only been a few days since I’d seen him, but it had felt like a lifetime.
We stared at each other, drinking each other in.
“You came back,” I croaked.
“You called.”
I wasn’t sure who reached for who first, but suddenly I was in his embrace and his lips were on mine.
He placed his hands underneath my thighs and lifted me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around him, fusing our mouths together.
I tore my lips from his. “Wait.”
“You’re right, let’s go to the barn loft.”
“No.”
It was like I’d dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.
“No?”
“No,” I repeated, cradling his cheeks. “This isn’t the part we have a problem with, Cas.”
“This can solve most of our problems, Salem.”
I smiled. “You’re not getting into my pants tonight.”
“Let me try.”
Laughing, I pressed my forehead to his. “I’m glad you’re back. Where did you go?”
“Montana. You know they have swarms of mosquitos the size of bats.”
“Yes. I’m aware.”
I lowered my legs and dangled in his arms until he finally set me down.
“You told Declan you had some things to sort out?” I asked tentatively.
“Yeah.”
“So, did you? Sort them out?”
“Think so. What about you?”
“Some stuff,” I admitted. “Other stuff is still hazy.”
He nodded in understanding.
“I want—can I show you something?” I asked.
“Now?”
I nodded. “It’s important.”
He held out his hand to me and I took it.