Page 53 of Kicking Up Dust

“Sorry. Like I said, you don’t have to⁠—”

“I’d love to, Colt. I’d love nothing more. I’ll research who we need to come inspect it, but if it’s safe, I’d like to follow that tradition.”

Colt sniffs again and despite his best efforts and the quickness in which he wipes at his tears, they keep coming. His face screws up and I reach up for his nape, pulling him close until he can cry against my neck.

I know this is more than the crib and me agreeing to let our daughter use it.

It’s Colt filling in his father’s footsteps, reconnecting with the man he lost.

“You’re gonna be a hell of a dad, you know that? You already are.”

“I’m gonna try so hard, baby,” he tells me through his tears, arms wrapping around me tighter. My belly gets in the way a bit, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I knock his hat off his head so I can run my fingers through his hair. I’ve noticed he seems to like it when I do that, and figure he’ll take any comfort he can get right now.

“We’re so lucky to have you, Colt,” I whisper, but it only makes him cry harder.

TWENTY-EIGHT

BLAIR

I was used to waking up alone. I’d woken up alone most of my life. It still made me a bit sad to wake up alone every morning now that I shared a bed with Colt, though. It wasn’t his fault. Honestly, it was a “damned if you do and damned if you don’t” type of situation. If he woke me at five in the morning, when he usually left for work, I’d probably be in a grouchy mood anyway.

But today and yesterday were his days off. Maddox had been kind enough to be really lenient with his schedule, even though Colt was determined to prove himself as a hard worker. There seemed to be a bit of animosity between them, though I couldn’t figure out why.

Regardless, I’d expected him to be in bed with me when I opened my eyes.

Grumpily, I make my way downstairs with plans to grab breakfast, but the sight of the open front door steals my attention before I can make it. I know we’re in the middle of nowhere, essentially, and the likelihood of someone breaking in is ridiculously low, but I still wish Colt wouldn’t have left me here without locking the front door. The screen door didn’t protect me from anything at all.

A noise on the porch further steals my attention and I slowly make my way toward it, snatching a poker from the fireplace on my way over. The screen door opens, and a huge man walks in. Luckily, it only takes me a millisecond to realize it’s Colt and I don’t break the kneecaps of my child’s father with a fireplace poker.

My shoulders relax just as he catches sight of me. How is he already filthy? It can’t be later than nine in the morning. His face lights up, though his brows furrow a second later when he notices the poker.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought you were a burglar. Or a bear. Or something,” I tell him, a bit self-conscious now.

“You think I’d let either one of those things anywhere near you?” he asks, coming closer. He takes the piece of metal from me and props it up against the wall for the time being, wrapping his arms around me immediately afterward.

“I thought you’d left. For work or something.”

“It’s my day off.”

“You work on your days off all of the time,” I remind him, resting my head against his shoulder. His arms feel more like home than any home I’ve ever lived in, and that scares me a little bit.

“Not today. I was working on something for you, actually. Wanna see?”

“I’ve gotta get dressed first.” I was still in my pajamas and barefoot. That’s a major upside of living on our own. I don’t feel the need to get dressed for the day just to walk around the house.

“Nah, it’s just right here on the porch. Come on, pretty girl.”

He seems excited, a far cry from the man who’d wept on my shoulder last night. He’d even gone to bed a bit morose, but I understood. The weight of grief hits you at the most unexpected times. It’s been over fifteen years since I lost my parents and most of the time, I could function just fine, my grief for them a part of me, but more so in the background. Every once in a while, I’d see a child with their parents getting ice cream like I used to love doing with mine, or a hummingbird ornament in a shop that made me think of my mom’s bird feeders, and I’d be out of commission for the rest of the day like Colt was yesterday.

He covers my eyes as he guides me out onto the porch and turns me to face where he wants me. “Ready?”

I grin at the happiness in his tone. “Yeah.”

“Hmm. I’m not convinced. You don’t sound very excited.”

“Colt.”