Page 163 of Lost Trust

Then he spots Royce. “Are you ready?”

Royce chuckles. “I am.”

Ryder beams.

I look between the two of them.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Peach cobbler!” Ryder squeals, and his face lights up.

I look at Royce. “You made peach cobbler?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Ryder slides down my side, and then he reaches up and takes Royce’s hand in his. “Come on!”

And just like that, he’s being dragged into the cabin by a four-year-old who has apparently decided he owns this cowboy.

I follow them inside.

Mom and I sit in barstools with a glass of wine, watching the two of them.

Ryder is standing on a chair beside the kitchen island, helping Royce mix peaches. There’s flour on Ryder’s cheek and down the front of Royce’s shirt.

Ryder glances up at Royce as he tries to sneak another peach slice.

“That’s for the cobbler, little man.”

“Just one more.”

“You said that three peaches ago. I’m not falling for it again.”

Ryder giggles.

And I realize something. My favorite flowers. Favorite food. Favorite animal. And now my favorite little human and his favorite dessert.

Royce thought about every single thing that I love.

I look at the man standing beside my son, flour on his shirt and a smile on his face, and something inside me shifts.

For the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t look like something I need to protect myself from.

It looks like something I might actually want.

He belongs on my list of favorites.

Because I love him too.

Royce

I rinse the last of the peach cobbler from Ryder’s mixing bowl and set it in the sink.

The kitchen looks like a damn war zone.

Flour dusts the counter. Peach juice is dried on the edge of the cutting board. Ryder was more interested in messing with me and eating up the ingredients than actually helping me make the thing.

Marina’s in the bathroom now, cleaning up the little man. He was wearing more of the dessert than he actually ate.