Page 25 of Wilder

Amusement tugged at my lips, my mouth twitching at the familiar nagging.

Even now, even with the weight of the years settling into her bones, she was still my mother. Still the same woman who could somehow tell when I hadn’t been eating right, who could sniff out exhaustion in my voice before I even admitted I was tired.

Leaving her to fall back into her daytime show, I turned and headed for the kitchen again, my boots quiet against the worn hardwood.

I supposed it was only natural of me to worry; to latch onto things like caring for her and overdoing it.

She was the only parent I had left.

With my father leaving us so suddenly in the way that he had, it had only cemented something deep in my chest, something that made it impossible to sit still when I saw the changes creeping in on her.

She wasn’t frail. Not yet. But the signs were there—small, quiet things that might have gone unnoticed if I hadn’t been living with her. And I, in true Wilder Reese Boone fashion, reacted the only way I knew how.

By doing.

By fixing.

By throwing myself headfirst into whatever I could control, overcompensating just to make sure I didn’t repeat the same mistake twice like I had with my father. That I took things seriously instead of waving it away like I did the few months leading up to my father’s fatal heart attack.

It wasn’t rational by a long stretch, I knew that better than anyone.

Neither of my parents had been particularly elderly at the time, but the way my father had gone, so fast and unexpected, had left a scar. One that never quite healed no matter how much time passed.

Grief had a funny way of lingering like that. Some days it felt distant, tucked away in the quiet corners of my mind. Other days, it was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday, creeping up in the smallest moments—a smell, a sound, the weight of a memory catching me off guard.

But now was not the time for that.

Pushing those dark thoughts aside, I focused on the task in front of me, pulling out a few things from the fridge to slap together a quick lunch. The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft hum of the TV in the other room and the occasional clatter of utensils as I worked.

When I glanced out the window above the sink, I noticed the sun had disappeared behind thick, heavy clouds, leaving the world outside cast in a hazy overcast gray. My gaze shifted across the property, scanning the stretch of land until a familiar figure caught my attention.

Asher?

He was walking up from the stables, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets, head tilted downward, gaze fixed on the ground in front of him. His pace was unhurried, but there was something about the way he moved that made me pause.

What was he doing up here so early?

Sully and I had already called it an early day, deciding to let the ranch hands loose to do whatever they wanted until dinner-time chores rolled back around. With the temperature dipping lower, it wasn’t worth pushing them through another few hours of work when the conditions were already miserable enough.

But Asher?

He was the last person I expected to turn in early.

He never did. If anything, I was usually the one reminding him to take a damn break from that filly before he overworked himself into exhaustion.

But here he was, making his way up toward the house, his usual easygoing energy noticeably absent.

My stomach twisted slightly, my fingers stilling over the sandwich I was assembling.

Then again, Asher always did have a way of surprising me. Whatever it was, hopefully it wasn’t too serious.

Abandoning my lunch, I wiped my hands off on my jeans and headed straight for the back door. I unlatched it, the old hinges creaking slightly as I swung it open. The moment I stepped outside, a bitter breeze hit me full force, cutting through the warmth of the house like a blade but I barely registered it.

My eyes were too busy being locked on him.

His shoulders hunched slightly against the wind, finally tilting his head up and lifting his gaze from the ground when he reached the edge of the walkway. He stopped short, his entire body stilling at the sight of me. Wide brown eyes blinked at me, shifting into something caught between surprise and hesitation.

For a brief second, he looked like a deer caught in headlights—like he hadn’t expected to run into me and like whatever thoughts had been rolling through his head had just slammed to a halt.