Chapter 36 Matty
MATTY
By the time I crossed the yard, most of the ranch hands had already filed into the barn, the low hum of their voices carrying out through the open doors, mixed with the clang of cutlery on tin plates, the scuff of boots on concrete.
Basically, the lunchtime lull. I wasn’t hungry.
Not for food anyway. I’d been looking for Hudson for the past fifteen minutes, and he was nowhere in sight.
I lingered by the fence. Where was my truck? Where was Hudson? No sign of him with the crews. My gut twisted, half with worry, half with the gnawing regret I’d been carrying since last night.
Christ, why had I let the past come out of my mouth?
I’d spent days planning something good, something memorable, and instead of getting down on one knee, I’d dumped a rotten piece of my history on the man I loved most. There was no way I could have proposed to him after that.
My past with Grant wasn’t the way I wanted to remember our proposal story.
Maybe I could take Hudson and Ivy up to the clearing where I planned to build our house and show them the view.
The thought steadied me, even warmed me for a second.
A proposal there, with Ivy running under the trees, would mean more than any motel room ever could.
Maybe it was all good that I hadn’t proposed last night.
Ivy was a part of our story, so she deserved to be included.
“Looking for someone?”
I turned. Dad was coming out of the barn, a plate in his hand, steam curling off cornbread and stew. His hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but even so, his gaze was steady.
“Hudson. You seen him?”
I’d been worried all morning that Hudson would say something to Dad about Grant, but by noon I breathed easier that he understood I didn’t want to poke around in that old affair.
Dad had been livid when he found out about me and the foreman, and I’d been of the legal age of consent.
I might be grown, but he wouldn’t let it go.
Already so many rumors about our family swept the town.
The last thing I needed was for people to gossip about Grant fucking me when I’d been a minor.
Dad nodded toward the dirt road. “Took the afternoon off. Said he had business in town to take care of.”
Business in town. My chest tightened. He hadn’t said a word about it this morning, and Hudson wasn’t the kind of man to vanish without telling me. Disappointment sat heavily in my gut, sharper than I wanted to admit.
“Right.” I forced a shrug. “Guess I’ll catch him later, then.”
Dad studied me, the way he always did when he knew I was chewing on something but wouldn’t spit it out. “Something bothering you, son?”
I opened my mouth, thought about telling him no, then shut it again. My chest pulled tight. “Yeah,” I said softly. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Dad tipped his hat back, lines deepening around his eyes. “You sure?”
I nodded.
He gave a short huff. “Then get yourself something to eat. A man needs more than love as sustenance to work a ranch. And you’ve got a whole afternoon of cattle to move.”
I almost protested, but the truth was, he was right. My stomach was knotted, but it was empty too. “Fine,” I muttered.
I ducked into the barn, grabbed a plate, and forced down a few mouthfuls of stew.
I answered their chatter with nods and grunts.
My head wasn’t in it, but the food grounded me.
When the whistle blew to get back to work, I headed out to the pens, slipping back into the rhythm of ranch life, ropes, gates, hooves, and dust.
But Hudson still hadn’t shown.
By midafternoon, sweat was running down my back, and I was ankle-deep in churned mud trying to free a heifer that had wedged her head through the rails when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I yelled for Clayton to take over and stepped aside to answer the call, disappointed when it was Dad, not Hudson.
I swiped the call open. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“We can’t reach Hudson.” His tone was grim, clipped. In the background came the sharp, heart-wrenching sound of Ivy sobbing, high and panicked, calling out “Daddee” between hiccuped breaths. My chest seized.
“What’s wrong with Ivy?”
“She fell off the swing, and she’s hurt. We’re on our way into town to have her checked out by the doctor.”
My stomach dropped. “Fuck.” My voice came hoarse. “Is she—how bad—”
“She should be fine. Won’t be the first time I’m dealing with a child who has a broken arm.”
“Her arm’s broken?”
“She’s crying for Hudson, but I can’t get to him. Try to get there as soon as you can. Perhaps you can calm her down.”
“I’m coming.” The words tore out of me. I was already vaulting the fence, boots skidding in mud, mind blank but for Ivy’s cries echoing in my ear.
Where the hell are you, Hud?
The clinic’s parking lot was nearly empty when I pulled in, dust rising behind my tires. I shut the door and ran toward the glass entrance. The cool blast of AC hit me, but it did nothing to settle the fire in my chest.
Todd was behind the reception counter, a stethoscope slung around his neck, a clipboard in hand. He looked up, recognition flickering in his eyes. Then his expression smoothed into something professional.
“Matty.” He gave me a quick nod. “I take it you’re here for Ivy.”
“Yeah. How is she doing? It’s not too bad, is it?”
“Dr. Knight is still checking her over.” He frowned, looking over my shoulder. “You came alone?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just surprised. You’d think a father would be the first person to show up when his daughter got injured because she wasn’t being watched properly. But what do I know?”
I gritted my teeth, biting back the retort to defend Hudson. Why the hell couldn’t anyone get in touch with him? I’d called his phone several times on the drive over, and nothing.
“Where is she?”
“She’s in room two. Your dad’s in the waiting room.”
“Thanks.” I set off before he could say more.
The automatic doors opened up to the waiting room. Ozzie was perched on a chair in the corner, his face blotchy and eyes red. I scanned the area, but there was no sign of Dad, though I could hear a muffled child’s cries.
“Ozzie, what the hell happened?”
Ozzie climbed to his feet, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“It’s my fault.” His voice cracked. “I promised I would take her to the swing, but I had to go to the bathroom first. I didn’t know someone had left the back door open.
She slipped out and went to the swing by herself and fell out. Oh my God, it was awful.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“My crying was upsetting Ivy, so I told him to stay with her. They’re down the corridor, second room on the left.”
I squeezed Ozzie’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Accidents happen. I’m just glad it’s not more serious.”
A broken arm could heal, but a child unattended on a ranch could have had much worse happen to them.
I followed Ozzie’s directions down the hall. The antiseptic tang of the clinic hit sharper with every step. The door was cracked open. I knocked once, then entered.
Ivy sat on the exam table, her little body dwarfed by the paper-covered cushion.
Dr. Knight was crouched beside her, hands steady as she wrapped bright purple fiberglass around her arm, building the cast layer by layer.
Ivy’s cheeks were blotchy, her eyes swollen from crying, but she wasn’t wailing anymore.
Dad sat right beside her, his massive hand cradling her good one, his voice low and steady as he murmured something only for her.
“Like a cowgirl’s brace,” I caught him saying softly. “Strong and tough. You’ll be back on your swing before you know it.”
My throat closed.
“No, no more swing, Papa,” Ivy hiccupped.
“Ah, honey. It’s okay. You don’t have to go on the swing again until you’re ready.”
I moved closer, and Ivy’s eyes found me instantly. “Daddee.” Her lip trembled, fresh tears spilling.
God, it still tugged at my heart every time she called me that.
“I’m here, baby girl,” I murmured. I stroked her hair, bent to kiss her damp cheek. “Daddy’s right here.”
“She’s doing just fine,” Dr. Knight said without looking up, her tone calm. “Brave as can be. Just a buckle fracture. Once this hardens, she’ll be stable. She’ll need some Tylenol for the soreness tonight, but otherwise she’s going to heal beautifully.”
“See that?” I brushed a thumb under Ivy’s chin. “Brave girl. Just like your daddy.”
Ivy sniffled but leaned into me, her little body trembling against my chest when I slipped an arm carefully around her.
“I’ve got her,” I said to Dad. “Go check up on Ozzie. He’s not taking it well.”
Dad brought over a stool so I could sit with Ivy, then left. I brushed sweaty strands of hair off her forehead. Her big eyes blinked up at me, wet lashes clumped together.
“Where’s other Daddy?” she whispered, her bottom lip quivering.
My gut twisted. I swallowed hard and smoothed a hand over her curls. “I’m not sure, baby girl. But I promise he’ll be here as soon as he can.” I forced a smile. “Once we’re done here, I’m taking you for ice cream. Any flavor you want. That sounds good?”
She sniffled and nodded, eyes still wide and solemn.
Dr. Knight glanced at me over Ivy’s head, her smile gentle. “Ivy, did you know your Daddy Matty once had to wear a cast too?” she said, her voice light and playful. “He was a little older than you are now, but he wasn’t as brave. He got all sorts of pictures and doodles on his cast.”
Ivy blinked, turning to me, momentarily distracted. “Weally?”
“Yes, really,” I said, feigning a serious nod. “And let me tell you, everyone I knew signed it. Even Papa. He drew a cow on it that looked more like a dog, but I still kept it.”
Ivy giggled, and I kissed her temple.
“There we go.” Dr. Knight smoothed the last layer of purple fiberglass, then patted Ivy’s knee. “All done.” She reached into her pocket and produced a sticker sheet and a lollipop, holding them out like treasure. “Which one do you want for being the bravest girl today?”