Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
DYLAN
I find Mama at the stove with a frying pan and Chase at the table eating pancakes when I step into the kitchen for my second coffee on Saturday morning.
A smile tugs at my lips that I don’t bother to hide.
Hell, I’m almost chuckling to myself thinking about last night’s dinner—Mad and Izzy with their matching wet hair, skin flushed from the lake, smiles wide and content.
Mad declared my simple pasta the best she’d ever tasted.
Chase was quick to reply. I like you, Mad, but you need to get out more if this is the best pasta you’ve ever eaten.
Izzy sat beside me, our legs touching beneath the table, and all I could think about was how good it felt—how good she felt.
She’s under my skin and in my head. And the more time I spend with her, the more it never feels like enough.
Especially when my thoughts drag to the time we spent by the lake yesterday and my dick stirs with a longing I’ve never felt for anyone before.
My thoughts disappear when I catch the tail end of Mama’s voice. “You know you’ll always have my support, Chase. No matter what you do.”
Chase gives her a quiet, “Thanks,” and I kick off my boots, heading for the coffee pot.
“I just told Mama I might look for Leanna,” he says as I pour myself a cup.
I nod, glad Chase has finally opened up to Mama about his plans to look for his biological mom. “Still not sure?”
He shakes his head. “No. But Mama’s got an old address in Nevada.”
Mama steps across the kitchen, giving Chase’s shoulder a squeeze. “Might not be current, but it’s a place to start when you’re ready.”
Chase has a few weeks off before the season starts.
That in-between time when the team is pumped up and ready, but left waiting.
He could ditch some of the press events I know he’s been signed up for and go find her.
But it’s his decision, and I don’t push or try to understand the complexity of what he’s going through.
This is a woman who abandoned him on our doorstep in the middle of the night when he was two years old and hasn’t tried to contact him since.
“You still heading to Florida next week?” I ask Mama.
She smiles. “Wouldn’t miss my girls’ trip. Two weeks of sitting by the pool, drinking mimosas, and swapping the same stories we’ve told for forty years. As long as you all think you can cope without me.”
“We’ll be fine,” I say. The annual Florida holiday with her old high school girlfriends is the only time Mama takes for herself, and she deserves it.
Mama looks to Chase, worry in her eyes, but before she can say any more, Buck rushes into the kitchen, tongue out and tail swinging furiously before he flops onto the cool tiles.
He’s followed a moment later by Jake and Harper, both wearing hiking gear.
“Hey, Dylan.” Harper smiles. “Just the man I wanted to see. I was telling Mia about Fury, and she’d love to come by later and see him. Is that OK?” she asks, mentioning her best friend, who along with Harper was in the same grade in high school as Chase.
I smile. “Sure. She might be a corporate hotshot now, but she’ll always be one hell of a barrel racer to me. It would be good to have her take on him.”
Harper pulls her phone from her pocket, fingers flying across the screen. Jake pulls her back into his side with a kiss to her temple.
“Can you pretend you’re here with me for like five minutes?” he teases.
“Hey, you’ve got me for a whole week in Hawaii starting Monday.”
Chase looks over to them. “You guys aren’t planning a secret wedding, are you?”
We all look to Mama and the almost comical look of horror dawning on her face. Jake is by her side in a second, giving her a hug.
“No way,” he says, rolling his eyes at Chase.
Harper looks up from her phone. “When we finally find a place we like, you’ll all be the first to get invites.”
“Buck good with you while we’re gone?” Jake asks me.
I crouch to ruffle Buck’s ears. “What do you think, boy? Wanna play rancher with me?”
“Looks like more than playing,” Harper says, nodding to one of Dad’s old cowboy hats I’ve taken to wearing.
A swell of warmth spreads across my chest. “Yeah. I know it started as a drunken mistake, but it feels like I’ve got a purpose again,” I admit.
The silence that follows is immediate and loaded. Chase shoots a look at Mama. Jake arches his brows. Harper looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. Something’s up.
“What?” I ask, turning to Jake.
He gives a tiny shake of his head, then glances at Mama.
“Mama?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Coach Allen’s been calling you.”
“So? Probably just checking in.”
“It’s more than that,” she says, still hesitating. “He wants you to join the Stormhawks coaching staff.”
The words hit me like a gut punch. Coach wants me to join the coaching staff.
I could be part of the Stormhawks again.
For all my talk about finding purpose here, the thought of rejoining the team—even from the sidelines—sends a jolt of something electric through me that I’m not ready for.
I open my mouth. Close it. Then finally I find my voice.
“I… I’ve got the ranch now.” Even I can hear the hesitation in those words.
Mama’s warm hand rests on my arm. “And seeing you come out of yourself over the last few weeks has been wonderful. I want you to choose this life if it’s what you want, Dylan.
But don’t choose it because you think your dad would’ve wanted you to or because you feel like it’s all you’ve got.
Don’t settle. Remember—we don’t give up on what we love. ”
The silence stretches again until Harper breaks it with a wave of her phone. “Mia says she’ll be here by four.”
Talk turns to plans—two weeks in Florida for Mama, Hawaii for Jake and Harper, and Chase’s media days in the city. Everyone’s going somewhere. Doing something.
Except me. I’m staying right here. And for the first time in weeks, I wonder if that’s enough.
Am I throwing myself into this life because it’s truly what I want or because I thought it was all I had?
I picture Fury—his progress, the pride that swells every time he takes a step forward.
Football was my life. It isn’t anymore, I tell myself, and maybe I even believe it—most days.
But there’s still something lingering. That last tether to the life I left behind.
The way I come alive when I toss the ball with Mad.
If raising horses was truly all I wanted, would one mention of an offer from Coach be enough to send me into this kind of turmoil?
I’ve thrown myself into ranching, day after day, but deep down, something still feels incomplete.
And I can’t help but wonder if Izzy senses it.
Maybe that’s why she hasn’t said she’s staying.
I glance out the back door, my gaze falling on Izzy, like I can’t stop seeking her out.
She’s by her trailer, kneeling in the dirt, arms wrapped tightly around Madison.
Even from this distance, I can see Mad’s face is buried in her mom’s shoulder.
Something’s wrong. And seeing Izzy comfort Mad makes me want to be out there, kneeling beside Izzy in the dirt.
I don’t just want to help them—I want to be part of their unit, if they’ll let me.
I push aside thoughts of coaching football and Coach Allen’s calls and stride out the back door, beelining straight for them and catching the tail end of Mad’s hiccupped words, her voice small and sad, nothing like the determined little girl I’ve come to know.
“Maybe Dad had something really important to do,” she says through sniffs.
“I’m sure that’s it,” Izzy replies, running a soothing hand over Madison’s back. But when Izzy glances up, her green eyes meeting mine, I see her sadness. Most of all, I see her resignation. Like she already knew this would happen and hates herself for being right.
Anger smacks into me so hard I have to take a breath. What kind of father lets his kid down like this? What kind of man? It isn’t just that Hooper canceled—it’s that Mad is trying to convince herself that it doesn’t hurt when it clearly does.
I understand Izzy a little more in this moment.
The sharp edges, the stubbornness, the way she doesn’t let people in.
She’s been the one picking up the pieces for Madison since day one.
She’s had to be everything to her daughter.
And right now, all I want to do is take that pain from Madison and smooth the sadness from Izzy’s face. I want to fix it.
I crouch down next to them, nudging Madison’s shoulder with mine. “Hey, Mad.”
She lifts her face, wiping away her tears. “My dad can’t make it tonight.”
“That’s a shame, but do you want to know something?”
“What?” she asks, pulling back from Izzy’s arms as she turns to look at me.
“I’m actually really happy to hear you’re going to be here tonight because I’ve got plans for us.”
She looks up at me, tears still clinging to her lashes, but she’s curious, too. “What plans?”
“How does a barbeque by the lake sound?” I ask. “Burgers, swimming, and maybe even s’mores if you can convince your mom.”
Mad’s eyes light up. “Can Jake and Chase come too? I bet they’ll push me really high on the rope swing.”
“Not too high,” I reply. “We don’t want you landing on the moon.”
“Dylan!” She huffs, rolling her eyes and looking so much like Izzy in that moment I laugh. “That can’t happen.”
“Even so, sounds like we have ourselves a plan. I’m going to need your help getting it all set up. You game?”
She gives a fierce nod, wiping away the last of her tears. “I’ll get my notebook. We need to make a list!” She whirls around and disappears into the trailer, and I move to stand as Izzy brushes the dirt from her knees.
“Hey,” I say quietly. My fingers brush the bare skin of her arm, and damn if I don’t feel the way she tenses—like she’s caught between wanting to step back and move close.
The air shifts, charged with something unspoken between us again. Her eyes flicker to my mouth, and mine drop to hers. It would take nothing—nothing—to lean in. But she blinks, and it’s like we both remember where we are and who’s watching.
“You OK?” I ask, still not moving my hand.
Her nod is tight. “It’s not me Hooper has let down. But thanks for cheering Mad up. You really don’t have to do a big barbeque thing. It’s a lot.”
“And you don’t have to tell me what I don’t need to be doing all the time, Brooks,” I reply. “Mad deserves a fun night. Everyone’s here for the weekend anyway. It’s perfect.”
Izzy makes a face, smacking a hand to her forehead. “My parents! They’re coming tonight.” Before I can reply, she continues, “I’ll cancel on them.”
“Why?” I shrug. “My family’s here too. Might be easier with more people?”
“Easier?”
“Your poker face is terrible, Brooks,” I reply. “It’s obvious you’re dreading seeing them.”
Before she can reply, Madison reappears in the doorway of the trailer, wielding a fluffy pink notebook and matching pencil.
“Ready?” I ask.
She gives a firm nod, and before I can say another word, she takes a running jump from the trailer steps, throwing herself at me as Izzy cries a horrified, “MAD!”
I catch her mid-air, her little arms wrapping around my neck like a spider monkey. For a moment, I pretend to stumble, making her shriek a giggle.
“Do you know who’s the best at making lists?” I ask, shifting her weight easily in my arm.
“Who?” Madison asks.
“Mama,” I reply. “Let’s go find her, monkey.”
“Monkey,” she says, giggling against my shoulder, and a glow of warmth hits my chest again. Madison deserves only laughter and sunshine and fun, and it feels good to be the one to give her that.
As we make our way back to the ranch house, I throw a glance over my shoulder to Izzy. “Stop worrying, Brooks,” I call at her. “I’ll bring her right back.”
“Yeah, Brooks.” Mad grins before Izzy gets the chance to reply.
There’s something in Izzy’s expression—the way she’s fighting back a smile and no doubt a sarcastic retort—that feels different. Like maybe we’re done fighting. I don’t know what this is, but like this ranch and these horses, it feels like it might be real.
And yeah, that thought terrifies me right now. Yesterday I told Izzy I was all in. I meant it. Or I thought I did. But now, with Mama’s words still echoing in my head—a future with the Stormhawks—I feel that certainty waver.
Because even as Izzy looks at me like I might be worth believing in, there’s a small, treacherous part of me whispering, What if?