Page 88 of Saddle Storm

“Only because you were being a dick about the whole thing.”

“What whole thing?” I demand.

“It was—” Dallas holds up his hands. “Forget it. Look, if we drop it now, Willow and I will host for two years. Deal?”

“Dallas!”

Rose and Wilder call Deal and high five each other as Silas bursts out laughing. His blue eyes glimmering as he leans into me. “You are gold at this table.”

A flutter stirs low in my stomach at his words, and I hate how warm it makes me feel—considering they’re joking about something that technically concerns me.

I murmur back to Silas. “You are telling me what that’s all about later.”

He seems unfazed, popping a blueberry. “No problem, Bee. I had nothing to do with it.”

I turn to Mr. Thorne, who I know is hearing us. “Did you?”

“Oh gosh, sweetheart, you know, my memory—it’s not what it used to be. What’s your kid’s name again? Milo?”

Ginger smacks his arm. “Oh I don’t know about that. Usually people mature with age,” she glowers.

He chuckles and winks. “All in good fun.”

When the conversation shifts to the ranch—expansion plans, repairs, prepping for winter—all topics I’m generally well-versed in, Silas checks out. And I don’t want him sitting through it on my behalf if he typically doesn’t.

I excuse myself, offering to clear the dishes and check on the kids, and Silas seems relieved to follow me.

“You all right?” I ask when we’re alone in the spacious kitchen.

He glances at me, giving me that unaffected golden boy, life-made smile. Like nothing can get him down.

Then lets it fade. For me. “Yeah,” he breathes. “This part’s usually easy—I let them get their punches in. Be the comic relief they all seem to need; but there was always a ticking clock for the moment I jump back in my car and go home.”

The word strikes against my chest but I don’t say anything.

“Can’t exactly do that now.”

I squeeze his hand despite the pain. “Do you know when you can?”

He shakes his head, the look on his face familiar somehow. Like this isn’t new to him. It’s just another reminder of where he’s always stood.

A pit forms in my stomach, and it makes me realize something too important to ignore. I’ve been so focused on him “leaving us” when he’s healed. Going back to what he’s always loved more than . . . any of us.

But I never considered what it costs him every time he comes back.

His brothers are still laughing over something as we step out onto the porch. It didn’t take long for Silas to decide it was time to go after dessert was set. And I didn’t argue—I want to know more. For all I know, this could be another piece to the Silas puzzle I never fully understood.

Sure, I picked up on the “black sheep” comment weeks ago at dinner with Max. And I didn’t question it because he was always different. But, like my kid pointed out, I never saw it as anything negative.

But I’m willing to bet it’s not just me expecting him to abandon Blue River the second he’s cleared to get back on the ice. It’s everyone who knows him here. Especially his brothers and father, who seemingly never gave him a choice.

Silas doesn’t say anything as we start down the path, hands in his pockets, shoulders a little lighter than they were inside.

I slip my arm into his and he glances down at me, as Max skips over rocks ahead of us. “What?” he asks with a knowing grin.

“Just wondering if all that is part of the reason you left?”

He huffs a laugh. “What gave you that idea?”