“No?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “If it was enough”—he pauses—“wouldn’t we be moving toward each other instead of farther apart?”
The question lands hard.
Because I don’t have an answer or any sage brotherly advice.
Hell, I’ve never had to ask myself anything close. I’ve spent my whole life avoiding relationships. Avoiding those same complications, anything that looked remotely permanent.
So, what the hell do I know?
I snort. “I’ve got no fucking clue. I’ve never moved in any direction with a woman.”
That earns a laugh from everyone.
Royce points at me. “Other than for a night.”
Cabe shakes his head, but he’s smiling now. “The one thing I do know …”
We all look toward him.
He’s looking off into the horizon. Probably wishing the mountains had all the answers.
“I’m her biggest fan.”
Something about the certainty in his voice makes my chest tighten.
“I want her to get everything she wants out of life. No matter where that takes her.”
The pasture goes quiet again.
“And no matter what happens between us,” he says, “she’ll always be important to me.”
With that, we go back to work—hammering posts, stretching wire, building fences.
And while everyone else focuses on the job, my mind keeps drifting somewhere it probably shouldn’t.
To a tiny white bikini.
Tanned legs.
A moonlit deck.
Sleep-mussed blonde hair.
Bare feet.
A worn-out T-shirt.
And a woman who’s standing in limbo with my brother.
Jovie
My phone buzzes while I’m finishing notes from the week in the clinic.
Cabe: Sunday supper. Ranch house. 6:30. Everyone’s coming to welcome Micah home.
Mmm, Evelyn’s Sunday supper. When I was growing up, Sunday evenings were always my favorite thing about Wildhaven Storm.
