Chapter 5 #3
Lyle exhaled, his gaze shifting back to the window.
“It's tough seeing folks who were once so vibrant now confined to wheelchairs and at the mercy of others to take care of them.
I hate that some of those people's families don't even come to visit.
It's as though they've been thrown away.
" He glanced over at her. "I'd give anything to have just one more day with my mom and dad. Just one."
"Oh, Lyle."
"Miz Jacobs shared that her boy never comes to see her.
Said the daughter-in-law and grandchildren are so busy with sports and such.
She spoke about them all with plenty of pride, but I could tell she's lonely--and hurt.
Made me want to hunt down her son and shake some sense into him. She won't always be around."
Heather reached over and laid a hand on his arm.
"I know. I miss my mom every single day, and she's been gone a while.
Your pain is still so new. Maybe you can have Joe do a little digging into Mrs. Jacobs' family, get a phone number for her son?
Wouldn't hurt to send a text and goose him a little.
Let him know you saw his mom and she mentioned him? "
"Might not be a bad idea. It just aggravates me that a son should have to be reminded that his mom is in a home and craves the familiarity of family. Life is precious." He glanced back over his shoulder where Charlotte slept in her booster seat, Pudge still curled in her lap.
"I've seen similar situations at the Veterans Hospital," he said.
"Some people can't handle anything other than perfection.
When a family member becomes injured or sick, not everyone can cope with the change it brings.
Some tend to ignore rather than accept. And I think that's the saddest thing--to be ignored, to be swept aside and left alone as though all the years and wisdom from a life well lived have just ceased to exist because of a disease or an IED blowing off limbs. Or simply old age."
Heather swallowed past the lump forming in her throat.
She recognized the quiet rage simmering just beneath Lyle’s words—the kind of helpless frustration that built up when you cared too much and couldn’t stop the world from being cruel.
It was the same frustration she’d felt watching Becky’s mother crumble under the weight of her loss, the same anger that had fueled her long, bruising fight to leave Bret and reclaim her life, the same helpless rage when her father had abandoned them in the middle of her mother’s breast cancer crisis.
Lyle hadn’t bailed in a crisis, she mused.
Despite pursuing a dream in another state, he’d come home without hesitation to be there for Charlotte.
To uphold a promise. He could have taken his Goddaughter back to Montana, but he’d stayed in Bear Valley instead, giving Charlotte the stability of familiar surroundings.
“You’re a good man, Lyle,” she said softly. Her fingers tingled where they still pressed gently against his arm, and when she finally drew back, Lyle’s jaw twitched, as if he’d noticed the warmth she’d left behind. “More people should care the way you do.”
Lyle let out a breath, shaking his head with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I don’t know if it makes me good. Just makes me mad.”
“Sometimes,” she mused, “those are the same thing.”
For a long moment, the truck was silent save for the soft hum of the tires against the dusty road. "Thanks for doing this today. For Charlotte and for the people at the seniors’ home. I like you, Heather Prescott."
Heather nearly choked on an indrawn breath. "Um, thanks?"
Lyle leaned back against the seat, tilting his hat lower over his eyes as though settling into contemplation.
“No, I mean it. It's no secret that I'm attracted to you. You're a beautiful woman. But I really like you. I guess I never really took the time to know you when we were younger. Thought I had you figured out—Frank’s kid sister, always tagging along, always a little quieter than the rest. But you’ve got substance and edges under all that sweetness.”
Heather's grip tightened on the wheel. “Edges can be useful. Keeps people from thinking they can smooth you into something you’re not.”
Lyle exhaled in agreement, his voice quieter now. “Yeah. I get that.”
The words were soft, almost resigned, and Heather felt the defensive shroud around her heart begin to wilt a little more. She felt the urge to reach out, to offer comfort—not to an animal, but to a man who looked like he’d been spending too much time outrunning his own shadows.
But she didn’t.
For both of their sakes.
Because no matter how much Lyle Watkins made her heart ache in all the ways she’d tried to forget, she knew that opening herself up again wasn’t just risky.
It was dangerous. He had a child to raise, and he still hadn't fully committed to raising that child here in Texas.
For all she knew, he could pack up his goddaughter and head for Montana next week.
But for now, it was enough to sit beside him, the soft hum of the Jeep filling the space between them as they drove into the sunset. Each of them lost in their own thoughts, yet bound by an unspoken something neither was ready to name.