Chapter 25 MATTY
MATTY
The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft hiss of the coffeemaker finishing its last drip.
The brand-new coffeemaker Hudson had finally caved and let me get, claiming I was far less grouchy once I’d had my morning cup.
I didn’t bother pointing out he enjoyed it as much as I did.
I hated him going in so early to do extra work on the ranch to make money, but he was stubborn.
If I suggested he scale back, he would only get more stubborn.
He was too proud for his own good. If he were a moocher like some other men, half my worries would be gone.
But nope, he insisted on fixing all his problems on his own, although he didn’t have to.
When he was in the shower, I’d slapped together a ham and cheese sandwich and brewed coffee strong enough to put hair on your chest or at least keep Hudson upright through the morning.
The sandwich wrapped in foil sat beside the thermos on the counter.
I kept looking at them like they could do more than fill his stomach, like they could somehow make up for the hours of sleep he’d been skipping lately.
He went in too early and finished way too late. Yesterday, he hadn’t seen Ivy awake at all, since I’d brought her to the ranch and taken her back home.
His boots thumping in the hallway announced his arrival with slow, even steps, but not lazy. Purposeful. That was Hudson all over. Even half-dead with exhaustion, he moved like he had somewhere important to be.
He came into the kitchen, buttoning his shirt, hair still damp from his shower, that stubborn set to his jaw in place.
God, he looked tired. The kind of tired you couldn’t hide, even when trying to play it off.
There were faint shadows under his eyes, and his mouth was fixed in a line that wasn’t unhappy but wasn’t relaxed either.
“Why are you up?” he said.
I gestured toward the counter. “Made you coffee. And a sandwich for the road. You’ll thank me later when you’re knee-deep in cattle and not running on fumes.”
That earned me a smile, small but genuine. “You didn’t have to.”
“It’s the least I can do since you won’t quit working so hard.”
He reached for the thermos, but I beat him to it, caught him around the waist with one arm, and pulled him back against me. His body fit into mine like it belonged there, warm and solid, his shirt still clinging in places from the shower.
“None of that,” he said, but his shoulders loosened a fraction. “You’ll make me late.”
“Just holding you for a few seconds. Am I not allowed?” I pressed my lips to the side of his neck, inhaling soap and the faint scent of whatever laundry detergent he’d used. “You’re tired.”
He yawned, a perfect opportunity to prove my point. “I’ll rest tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow you’re taking Ivy to therapy.”
“Exactly. I’ll have all the time before and after therapy to get a nap.”
“Want me to take you and her tomorrow?”
He finally turned to face me, lifting his hands to cradle my jaw. The warmth in his eyes was different from the tiredness—it was soft, steady. “I love that you want to come with us, Matt. Honestly, you’ve made this whole parenting thing easier for me, but it’s not necessary.”
That word—necessary—hit me in a place I didn’t like.
I wanted to tell him I wasn’t here because it was necessary.
That I wasn’t clocking in and out of his life like it was a job.
That I wanted to be there for all of it, the good and the hard, not just for him but for her.
But he was proud, and I’d learned that pushing him when he was in that mode didn’t work.
So I swallowed the words and kissed him thoroughly so he’d feel it even after he walked out the door.
“Go on,” I said when we pulled apart. “Check on Ivy before you leave.”
I followed him down the hall, leaning on the doorway as he eased into her room.
The early light barely touched her face, just enough to make the curls at her temple shine.
She was curled under her mermaid blanket, mouth parted in sleep.
Hudson crouched beside her bed, murmured something too low for me to hear, and kissed the top of her head.
His hand lingered there a moment, rubbing lightly over her back before he stood.
When he stepped into the hall, I hooked a hand into the front of his shirt and tugged him toward the kitchen again.
“Coffee.” I pressed the thermos into his hand. “And the sandwich. Don’t you dare skip it.”
He laughed but didn’t argue. “You’re gonna spoil me.”
“Food is essential, baby. It can’t be used to spoil someone.”
If only he would let me really spoil him. I would have torn down this house and rebuilt it. Would have bought him a new truck and a car so he could drive Ivy around more comfortably. New furniture, a heater that didn’t take forever to warm up, so half the time he used the cold water anyway.
I have half a mind to do it anyway.
But we were still too fresh for me to trigger such a huge fight.
Hudson leaned in for a full hug, one of those rare ones where his whole weight seemed to settle into me. His voice was quiet in my ear. “You have no idea how lucky I feel having you.”
My throat went tight. “I might have an idea. I’m awesome.”
He laughed, bit my neck. “Yeah, you are.”
We headed out to the driveway together, the air already warm enough to make the cotton of my shirt stick a little to my back. Hudson climbed into his truck and turned the key. Nothing but a dull click. He tried again. Same sound.
“Dammit.” He smacked the steering wheel, jaw tightening. “I can’t afford for this to happen now.”
“Take mine,” I said.
“Matt—”
“Let me grab the keys.” Ignoring his protest, I ran inside and grabbed my keys from the bedroom. When I returned, he was leaning on my truck, frowning.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Listen, nothing would make me happier than you coming back to bed so I can love on you.” I held out the keys and shrugged. “Your choice.”
He sighed and took them. “Thank you. But how are you and Ivy getting to the ranch?”
“Let me worry about that.” I cupped the back of his head and placed a kiss on his forehead. “If you feel even a little sleepy, pull over and call me. Don’t you dare fall asleep at that wheel, you hear me?”
“I’m not that tired,” he promised. “I wouldn’t risk it. Ivy can’t lose another parent.”
That one hit me square in the chest. “And I can’t lose you again, so be safe out there.”
Something in his face shifted, less guarded, more raw. He leaned in and kissed me like it was the only thing he wanted to do. Hot, lingering, not at all rushed. I tasted the mint of his toothpaste on my tongue, cool with a bit of bite.
“See you later, Hud,” I said when we finally pulled apart.
“Later,” he murmured, and I stood on the porch watching until my truck disappeared down the street. The ache in my chest settled in like it planned to stay a while.
At midday, the barn was its usual chaos, boots grinding grit into the concrete floor, chairs scraping back and forth, the low rumble of laughter and voices layering over the clatter of silverware against tin plates.
Someone had brought fresh bread, and the smell of it mixed with sweat, hay dust, and whatever stew Gertie had thrown together for the hands.
I’d been working a different section of the ranch all morning—pulling tack repairs and checking pasture gates—and I’d timed my walk back so I could see Hudson come in. But when I stepped through the big double doors, he wasn’t there.
My pulse kicked up, even though I told myself it was stupid. He could’ve been washing up. Or maybe Ozzie had wrangled him into a chore before lunch. Still, I scanned the barn again. No Hudson.
“Mah!”
A blur of flowing hair and the cutest sneakers that lit up with each step darted between two ranch hands. Ivy. She tore across the barn toward me, grinning so wide it made my chest ache.
She stopped just short of plowing into my legs, lifting her arms high. “Up!”
I crouched automatically to scoop her up, but I caught myself just in time. My shirt was streaked brown and gray from dust, my jeans stiff with dried sweat and whatever I’d kneeled in earlier that morning. “Can’t, darlin’. I’m filthy.”
She pouted, the kind that could undo me in seconds, but she didn’t push it. “’Kay.”
I bent closer and whispered in her ear, “Later, when I’m cleaned up, I’ll take you to see Junebug. How about that?”
Her whole face lit up like the sunrise. “Yeah!” she squealed.
I smiled back, but my gaze was darting over the crowd again. Still no Hudson. “Where’s Daddy?”
She shook her head, then ran off to Ozzie.
After a few more minutes of pretending to look for a place to sit, I made my way to the side table where a few of the guys from Hudson’s crew were hanging back. They’d been sorting calves together this morning, separating the ones ready for branding.
“You seen Hudson?” I asked as casually as I could make it.
“How should we know?” Warren smirked. “Do we get a pay increase for keeping tabs on who you put your dick in?”
I had a fist in his shirt before my brain caught up and yanked him halfway out of his seat so hard his plate clattered to the floor. His eyes went wide, but that smirk didn’t vanish fast enough for my liking.
“Say it again,” I said through gritted teeth.
The whole barn went quiet, the kind of hush that made every sound sharper—my breathing, the creak of the chair legs, someone’s intake of air.
“Matty.”
It was one word, but Dad’s voice could’ve cut a fence post in two.
I turned my head. He stood by the doorway, arms folded, eyes hard.
“Let him go.”
Like hell I would.
“You’re scaring Ivy.”
That got through where nothing else could’ve. My gaze snapped to her. She was by Ozzie’s side, his hand resting gently on her shoulder like he wasn’t sure if she’d bolt. Her little mouth was pressed in a straight line, eyes too wide.
Shit. She wouldn’t understand I was simply defending her daddy.