Chapter 1 #2
We’d walked back along the edge of the large ranch that had been in the Grace family for generations.
The first grave markers in the cemetery dated back to the initial settlers who’d been among the earliest Texas citizens.
The walk was only about a mile but seemed longer when holding a squirming youthful body.
“Just a minor cut,” I said, with a wave of the offending hand. “Nothing to worry about.”
Cam clucked at me as he took Cash from my arms as we ascended the porch steps that led to what we still called the Big House, though Cam’s home was now larger.
This white clapboarded-side two-story had been built right after the Civil War, making it one of the older homes not just in the area but in the state.
Cam had mentioned getting it put on the historical registry, but I didn’t have any interest in the old.
My fifty-four years on the planet had taught me the beauty of letting go of the past and looking toward the future.
My future was filled with my children and grandbabies.
Just because sometimes I was lonely, feeling adrift in the hullabaloo their broods created, just because I sometimes wished for a lover’s arm around my shoulders.
That didn’t matter. I’d buried the love of my life and the worst mistake of my life.
No way I was getting involved with another man.
Not even a sexy, irritating-as-hell former soldier…
An image coalesced in my mind, and I blinked it away by sheer force of will…mostly.
“I found some of Steve’s peppermint hot chocolate in the back of the pantry. I thought about bringing Jenna some after we get you two situated,” I said.
At the mention of that man’s name, a curl of heat swirled through my midsection.
Steve Lincoln was Nash Porter’s biological father.
He was a few years younger than me, fit as the day he left basic training as a young man, and had an All-American smile that made me sizzle.
I clearly had a type, which was a military man with plenty of muscle and integrity.
My one step off into bad boy territory, away from the straight-and-narrow soldier, burned me so badly I had no appetite for another attempt.
But, for all their similarities, Steve was nothing like my Jensen…
nor was he like bad-boy Laurence. Steve, for all his good qualities, was a pain in the ass who’d made my life more difficult since returning from Nash and Aya’s wedding.
Unfortunately, since that night, I wasn’t in the right head space to forget how much he annoyed me.
“That sounds like a plan,” Cam said, but he sounded unconvinced.
“Just you wait, son,” I said. “I’ll coax her from that bed. That there’s a promise you can hold straight to the bank.”
“You don’t have to—” he began, but I saw the relief deep in his eyes.
He might be angry with me for not protecting him better in his youth, and he should be, but Cam was also my most sensitive child, the one who still needed me most.
Cam, with all his money and fame, lived on the ranch with me.
He and Jenna had added on to his original cottage, creating a stately and cozy home, neither one interested in prestige and size—unlike Carter, who had a massive mansion in the Bay Area and another on Lake Austin, about forty-five minutes from here.
My lovely daughter Kate and her husband Rye split that distance, living about twenty minutes away from the ranch in a cute bungalow they’d bought last year after welcoming their two adopted sweet peas into their family.
My blessings grew because I counted Cam’s protegee, Nash, and his wife, Aya, as part of my brood, along with their little guy, Levi, who was closing in on a year old. Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow was going to be a raucous affair—just how I loved them.
I frowned. Well, I would look forward to this big Christmas Eve dinner even more if I could get Steve to stop joining me in the kitchen.
That handsome devil of a man was all about health over taste, and my Southern heart and constitution had put up with plenty of lip from him over the past couple of years.
I was absolutely sick of that man and his high-handed healthiness.
That was a lie, and I never lied to myself. Not anymore.
Steve was attentive, attractive, and he carried himself with pride and purpose that drew me like a fly to honey. He made me burn, and he made me want to cuss and throw things.
He made me feel more alive than I had in years, which was why I secretly looked forward to seeing him…even as I cursed him and his principles right to hell.
He was going to make tomorrow a sweet torture, and not just because he refused to eat bacon in his Brussel sprouts. Bless his rigid, fitness-oriented heart.
Once I had Cam and Cash settled, I made Jenna my biggest mug of Steve’s decadent cocoa, then a smaller one for myself, unable to resist the alluring scent.
Damn the man, his peppermint chocolate was addictive.
Worse yet, he wouldn’t share his recipe.
He really got under my skin with that rejection…
among others that I refused to remember, let alone consider.
I kissed Cash’s temple and squeezed Cam’s shoulder before grabbing the two travel mugs. While Cam and Jenna’s house wasn’t far, the half-mile walk in chilly weather wouldn’t keep the cocoa hot in regular mugs.
I knocked before entering, unsurprised to find the place quiet. “Jenna?” I called out.
She rounded the corner from the hall that led to her bedroom. She had showered and gotten dressed, but her expression was wan, her eyes too big in her hollowed-out face.
“Good morning,” she said, but I knew the words were polite, not because she thought the day thus far was good. This poor girl. She’d been through so much, and I ached to take away this latest round of pain.
That wasn’t how life worked, though. No matter how willing I was to bear her pain, her cross, I couldn’t. Instead, I studied her for a long moment, cataloging her appearance and demeanor before I headed toward the leather couch. I settled there and offered her the other mug.
“It’s Steve’s recipe, which I hate to admit is better than mine,” I said before pursing my lips. I played the role the kids had given me: the annoyed Southern cook who didn’t care for that kitchen upstart. It amused them, which, in turn, amused me.
Jenna hesitated before moving toward the living area where I was. She seemed slow, as if the lethargy of sadness was clinging to her muscles.
But the young woman had a sweet tooth, and, as I’d hoped, she sipped the drink. She closed her eyes and exhaled. But it was soft, not her usual gusty one.
“After Jensen died, I hated mornings,” I said. My tone was light, conversational, but Jenna paused mid-sip. Her brows tugged low over her nose as she slowly lowered the mug.
“I don’t want to talk about how I failed to carry Cam’s baby,” she mumbled.
“We aren’t. I’m telling you about how I’d pull the covers over my head and cry until I was hoarse and my head ached as much as my heart.
” I paused, waiting for Jenna to drink again.
Once she did, I continued. “I would have stayed in that bed—Jensen’s and my bed—and wasted away if it were just me.
But I’d just found out I was pregnant, and the boys needed me to eat for them.
To move for them. So I did, and I hated them for it almost as much as I loved them. ”
Jenna set her mug on the coffee table and pulled her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them and dropped her chin onto her knees.
She looked so young, vulnerable, and small.
I couldn’t help myself, and I brushed back the soft blond strands from her pallid cheek.
Jenna was mine, but only because she was Cam’s.
Still, I loved that girl silly, and I made sure she knew it.
She deserved to know it, especially after the way her father treated her.
The relationship with her parents was strained and would probably remain so. Even if Jenna ever forgave her father, Cam wouldn’t. Loyalty mattered to him, and Jenna’s father had been quite willing to let his child bear the weight of his mistakes.
That wasn’t how we did things in the Grace family. I owned my bad choices and did my best to make amends. More importantly, I did right by the kids and grandkids and worked my tail off to make sure they all knew how loved and respected they were.
“I know what you’re doing, and yes, I’m sad.
Really sad that we lost…” Jenna’s chin trembled as tears spilled over the lashes and slipped down her cheeks.
I knew Jenna well enough to know that, for her, crying was better than bottling everything up, going to a place where she was too closed off for anyone to reach, including her husband who felt every one of her hurts as if they were his own.
As I watched her unleash some of that heartache, my pulse evened out and I puffed out a sigh. Getting Jenna to let some of the pain go meant Cam would hurt less, too. I couldn’t do much, but I could do this for them.
At least I could offer some solace and wisdom.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you, my lovely girl.”
“Me, too.” She sniffled. “But I’m so angry at myself—at my past choices—that made my body fail me. Worse, I failed Cam.” A fresh gush of tears spilled down her cheeks.
If there was one thing I knew to be true, it was that Jenna and Cam were as close and connected as Jensen and I had been. So, when one hurt, the other bled. And if one felt they’d wronged the other, the fallout was so much worse.
Jenna couldn’t forgive herself for hurting Cam, and Cam couldn’t let go of the fact he’d pushed Jenna to this place. Getting past this issue was necessary if they were going to heal.
“Oh, sugar pie, you didn’t fail Cam. In fact, he’s in my kitchen, beating himself up with wallops of guilt, thinking he failed you because he asked you to try for another child.”