2. Storm #2
Dallas cocks his head at me. “Storm. He’s not five. He’s a big kid. He knows to stay out of Mom’s way when she’s workin’.”
I take a sip, ignoring him as he steps closer, perking a brow at me like he’s about to give me a friendly lecture.
“Max is family here because you’ve always been.
We may have temporarily disowned you when you went to work for Ricky Callahan, but you’re where you belong now.
” He winks. “Not to mention he and my little girl give me a sense of déjà vu that I can’t quite put my finger on.
” His blue eyes fill with amusement as he watches me.
I blush—not because Dallas is quite gorgeous for a man ten years older than me, but at the comparison of our kids to his brother and me when we weren’t that much older.
The Callahans didn’t mind him much either when I had to work summers and weekends.
But they never treated me like family. Not that I needed them to.
It was more of a “favor” they did for me, letting him hang out either with me or in the kid playroom they had for guests.
That’s when he was younger and enjoyed those things.
“Thanks, boss. But best to let him be until I clock out for the day. I don’t want him wanderin’ around and causing trouble.”
“Why not, you used to.” He grins.
“Exactly.” I give him a pointed look.
“Aww, you weren’t so bad.”
“You know Ginger is only thirty-nine? She only looks sixty because of what I put her through during my summers here.”
He chuckles, moving to his desk.
I feel guilty for keeping Max away from all the fun.
Dallas is right, Max won’t bother me. But what if a kid or two get mean with him?
These rich kids who can afford a private pony birthday party aren’t always .
. . kind. And I might just accidentally hit a rock while circling one of them around the yard.
Wouldn’t want that.
I follow the dirt path behind the barn toward the ranch office. It’s been a long day. The party was fun, and the kids were well behaved—Dallas was right, Max would have enjoyed it. Which only worsens my guilt for leaving him in an office all day when the weather was so nice.
“Hey, Ginger,” I exhale as I step inside the warm space. Apparently, Ginger starts the fireplace as soon as fall weather hits. She says it helps her deal with cold weather coming.
“Oh hey, love.” She stands from her chair and gives me a once-over with a chuckle. “Well, you remind me of the little girl with pigtails bustling through piles of hay.” She picks something off the side of my loosened braid.
I smile warmly at her. On my very first day, she welcomed me with such open arms it was like coming home. With Mom gone and Dad on his last lifeline, it’s hard to feel like you belong anywhere.
I pick it off to take a closer look. “Straw.” No wonder my head’s been itchy. I shrug and toss it aside. “Got a little carried away with the kids today.”
Ginger grins knowingly. “Oh, I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Hey, Mom!” My blond boy races up to me and I stretch out my arms for the half hug he’s about to give me. “I had so much fun today. We played cowboy games, raced around a hay maze. There was a scavenger hunt and then pizza and cake.”
I frown and then look up at Ginger.
She shrugs innocently. “Yeah, I brought him over.”
“When? How did I not see him?”
“You were busy with the pony rides and groom-the-horse station. Max’s been there, done that.” She winks at Max. “Plus we played a little game, didn’t we bud?”
He nods with a mischievous smile. “If Mom doesn’t see me, I get extra cake.”
“Extra cake.” I grin in wide-eyed horror. “Terrific.”
Silently, I’m grateful he had a great day. I turn to Ginger and give her a hug. “Thank you, Ginger.” I don’t know what it is about today, but I’m ready to cry.
Exhaustion, maybe? The silent relief from my guilt earlier? Or just one of those days you feel like letting it all out.
Jesus, Storm, get a goddamn grip on yourself.
I ruffle his hair. “Did you make any friends?”
He nods. “This kid Michael is cool. And one girl kept hugging me all day.”
“Oh yeah, that was me.” Ginger winks.
“Besides you,” Max says bashfully.
Ginger looks up at me. “There was a little girl named Maddie who took a liking.”
“Really?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. Max is a cool fun kid when you get to know him. He’s just sensitive and shy.
Maybe it’s the lack of a male figure in his life that makes him the odd duck. Personally, I always thought I could be both for him. But that’s hypocritical of me knowing I’m raising him in a bubble.
“By the way, you free to work tomorrow? Wilder sold two horses being picked up Monday morning and we need to get them prepped.”
I sigh. Sundays are my only day off and I really need them.
To rest, I lie to myself, but mostly—because Sundays are for Dad.
I stop by the care facility for a few hours every week.
Usually. If the nurses tell me it’s a good day.
If not, I try and sneak in a visit on a weekday when Max is at school, so that our visit doesn’t confuse or scare him.
He’s been the only father figure my kid’s ever known.
Some days Dad’s steady enough to talk, bark, bicker—those are the good days believe it or not.
Other days I just sit with him while he sleeps or stares at the TV.
It’s not easy for me to see him like this either.
I was never “daddy’s little girl” by any means.
We weren’t built that way. It was always more practical between us.
He made sure I knew how to take care of myself.
And it’s that exact skill that’s kept me going.
Something shifted after Max was born, though—not just the giant teddy bear he’d been hiding all these years under the tough exterior, but the way he sees me. Still hovers a bit, still pays attention, just not as quick to step in. Which I choose to take as trust to know what I’m doing.
“I can, but not for the whole day, need to see Dad tomorrow morning.” I don’t add that I also need to rest my bones. Because Ginger will quickly change her mind and ask someone else to do it.
And—it’s a sign of weakness that my bank account and my kid can’t afford.
“Oh, you’re just an angel. I owe you an extra day once the wedding’s over and all the fall chaos settles down. And don’t you worry, dear, I’ll make sure Max has fun tomorrow.”
I hum because I’m too weak to do anything else. “See you tomorrow, then.”