Page 92 of Saddle Storm

I swallow. Something in my chest releasing even as all this still settles in.

“I know you felt like . . . you showed up late to your own family. But you didn’t. You remember chasing horses and chickens and the responsibilities like you wanted it. But you weren’t. You were chasing your brothers. A reason to hang out with them. Because I didn’t give them a chance to be kids when they needed to be.”

My shoulders fall with a breath. “Dad.”

“I took a little more convincing to slow down with you, but your mother saw a different future for you instantly. Told me to lay off the kid.” He looks out toward the pasture for a long moment before continuing. “Made me remember a promise we made to each other after Wilder was born. If any of you boys found something you loved outside this ranch, we wouldn’t be the reason you stayed. Ranch life isn’t for everyone. It was so long ago, never crossed our minds with Dallas and Wilder.” There’s a beat before he glances over at me. “You were the only one who looked like you might fly somewhere else.” He clears his throat. “Guess she didn’t want me . . . clipping your wings or whatnot before you even tried.” He chuckles lightly. “You were our last chance at getting this parenting thing right. Wanted to watch you chase something that was just yours.”

“So you didn’t train me because . . .”

“Because we didn’t want it for you,” he says simply. “Sure, you showed up for it, but it was for all the wrong reasons. So your mother kept teaching you to ride. Spent time with you because she never got much of a chance with your brothers.” He glances down. “Always envied that about her.”

I swallow hard, suddenly missing Mom that much more.

“Dallas and Wilder are my biggest pride as a rancher, and a parent. You’re my biggest pride and success as a dad.”

The sincerity settles heavy in my chest. And I’m quiet for a long moment. I’ve spent years thinking his distance meant I was a disappointment. Turns out, it was a choice. A thoughtful one.

My silence seems to stretch too long. Dad lets out a sigh. “Now I’m startin’ to think I went about it all wrong.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t. I mean, givin’ me some sort of clue might’ve helped, but . . . I get it.”

He scoffs. “Damn right you get it. You didn’t suffer for it either. You think I don’t know how much those shoes cost? That you got more money in the bank than these fools probably do?” He points back toward the Saddle Room.

“That’s because they don’t know how to manage their money.”

“And you do?”

“What? You think my major was hockey in college?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t it?”

I laugh. “I took finance, Dad. Sports isn’t a major.”

“Then why don’t you go teach ’em somethin’ instead of sneakin’ in time with your girlfriend while she’s workin’?” He perks his brows at me.

I glare at him like I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t you have like bingo or chess dates or whatever retired ranchers do?”

“Course not,” he smirks. “I’mma go sneak in some time with my girlfriend while she’s workin’.”

I laugh and shove him playfully.

For a moment, neither of us speaks as we walk along the river. “Don’t be scared. It’ll all work out.”

“I’m not scared,” I tell him. “I’m just not ready for this to be where it ends.”

“You’re twenty-nine. Practically a kid. You’ll heal fast.”

He’s not wrong, if I were five years older with the same injury—scrutiny would be harsher.

“I don’t know who I am without it,” I mutter out loud for some reason.

“I do.” He nods his head back. “She does.”

I scoff. “Suppose she does. Even if she does call me hotshot every chance she gets.”

He chuckles, slapping my back. “That’s just a little reminder she set for herself.”

It takes me a minute to get the meaning. And I pause walking. “You mean that I’m leaving?”