Page 42 of Drifter’s Heart

Fear blooms low in my gut. “Like he ignored you?”

Pain etches across Cord’s lined face. “That’s different. I earned that response. Or his lack of a response.”

No response would destroy me. I have no idea how Cord is still standing.

“What if I have too?” Horror grips me. “What if⁠—”

“He’ll pick up. Because that cowboy has watched you for years, Winnie. He thinks he needs my approval, and hell, maybe he does.” Cord looks at me thoughtfully. “But I also know he’s the last man on this earth who will let you down or hurt you. What more can I ask for my family than that?”

“Nothing,” I whisper. My chest aches with the confession that stays locked behind my lips. I have Cord’s blessing, and I’m not sure West will answer, despite my brother’s arrogance.

Cordell nods, his resolve set. “Which is my cue to go. Look after Sally. Call me when you need to. I’m gonna go look after my girl, and I’m gonna be busy for a few months, okay? So if you need me, you’re gonna have to call us because my tunnel vision doesn’t have windows and I’m kind of crappy at this part.” Cord looks at me, that same sort of uncertainty shadowing his usually clear blue gaze that matches mine. “Is that—how did I do?”

I grin through tears that obscure my vision. “Better. So much better.” I punch his arm. “Tell Lanie that I’ll pluck a wolf if she doesn’t call soon. Got it?”

“Violent of you.” Cord kisses the top of my head. “Good night, chicken,” he calls.

“Good night, Uncle Cord.” Sally shoots out from her room to throw herself at him without reservation. Cord hugs her back and puts her down.

The action reminds me of how I launched myself at West earlier in the day. He never objected either, catching me then and kissing me until neither of us could talk. A breath shudders from me and Cord catches my eye.

“Call him, Winnie. You said he defended me? Well, this is me returning the favor. He’s more than you think.” He kisses the top of Sally’s head a second time and lopes away from the townhouse, turning back once. “Lock the damn door for me?”

I know my story of Brad’s return, unannounced, has scared him. Flicking the lock with one hand, I grab my phone and write out a quick text message before he drives away.

Brad’s in some rehab facility. He broke the court order. There are ramifications.

Thank fuck. That asshole doesn’t deserve either of you girls. Lock up anyway. Only let one man in.

I grin through a fresh sheen of tears and bring up West’s number. It rings once.

“Mom?” Sally taps me tentatively on the shoulder.

I end the call and drop my phone. The device sinks out of sight between two threadbare pillows on the sofa. “Yeah, chicken? Did you have a good time at Uncle Cord’s?”

“Of course. The setup for the invitational looks fun. Are we going to go?” She chews her lip, and it reminds me of my own reaction.

I roll one shoulder. “It depends if I’m on shift or not. You know that.”

“Okay.” Sally stands in the middle of the room for a moment longer.

I frown. “Has something happened? Did you get hurt?” A million scenarios flicker through my mind that relate to her few days away from me, each worse than the other. “Did anyone gang up on you? Has anyone touched you?” My voice rises slightly at the end of that last sentence.

“No, Mom.” Sally rolls her eyes and then turns to meet mine in full. “It’s just that… Were you angry with Uncle Cord because I rode the feeder calf?”

I stare but then push strands of blonde hair back from her face. “What? Baby, no.” I pull Sally in for a long hug.

After a minute she responds, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

I cup my hands under her jaw and make sure we’re looking right at each other. “I promise that you on a bucket calf is a super-cute vision. And that us fighting has nothing to do at all with the calf and a whole lot to do with me worrying about you. But I also know how strong you are, and how much fun you had, right?”

“Okay,” she whispers, and heads back inside her room, shutting the door softly.

I mutter a string of curses under my breath, which includes a lot of fucking Brad, and extract my phone from underneath the pillow tower. My breath stalls when I spot that my call from earlier was answered. West hung up shortly afterward, probably thinking I changed my mind, or that I pranked him. Or butt dialed.

Oh my fucking God. This is a disaster.

“Dammit,” I mutter, pressing call.