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He hums his way into disagreeing. “I don’t know about that. Kids don’t see things in such absolute terms. He has different teachers, camp counselors, you have friends who are around sometimes, then off chasing cattle or women or whatever else. A kid’s sense of time is different. It’s more here and now, and then out of sight, out of mind.”

“He could get…attached. The last thing I want is for him to feel abandoned. Even if he doesn’t remember his mom leaving, I think it’s in there. Down deep. When Elizabeth took off, he was barely old enough to speak, but he knew something was wrong.”

“Because he knew something was wrong with you. If you’re good with your new friend Callie, he will be too. And if you’re good when she leaves, he won’t give it a second thought. Trust me on this.”

“Why? You don’t even have kids.”

“Exactly. It’s why I can see things objectively. Bring her into the fold, have Scout get to know her,” he says, nudging his horse to pick up the pace now that we’re closer to the barn. “There’s no way the court’s going to buy you having a girlfriend who you’re planning to marry if your kid doesn’t even know about her.”

I close my eyes, hating the fact that everything he’s saying makes sense. Hating that I’m going to have to expose Scout to a woman who isn’t here to stay.

“You’re right. I need to introduce them.” I make a mental note to invite Callie over this week.

“Kids are resilient,” Ryan insists. “As long as you’re okay, they’re okay. And you’re okay, right?”

Exactly my concern.

CHAPTER 9

Luke

Scout sits on his knees in the sand, running a dump truck back and forth while his buddy Brandon uses a watering can to make a river a few feet away. It’s their daily ritual, taking out trucks and building a city whenever they have free time in the yard. He doesn’t see me yet, so I take this moment as a sneak peek into his hurricane of growing up.

Right now, he still takes the normal small-kid pleasures in making castles in the sandbox and rummaging through the compost heap for worms that slip between his small fingers. A part of me wants him to stay this age forever, so filled with hope and optimism and genuine joy over something small like the way paint feels. I’m so focused on begging time to stand still that I don’t see his teacher, Cyndi, come up next to me until she starts talking.

“Another great day today. He made a new friend.” There’s a smile in her voice, and I appreciate that she’s almost as invested in his happiness as I am.

“That right?”

She nods and points out the friend, a tiny pixie in a pink dress with a mop of yellow curls. She’s racing around the yard on a red tricycle, her hair flying behind her. “I think he has a little crush on Lola.”

Something folds up inside me and begs for shelter. I’m not ready for this moment, the first mention of Scout’s heart opening up to a girl. Of course I’m happy that Scout is always making new friends. He’s a social kid, and that’s why he’s here. But surely it’s too soon for a real crush, isn’t it? “What makes you say that?” I choke out the words, barely able to engage in a conversation that acknowledges that he’s growing up so fast. Too fast.

“Oh, just a secret smile he had on his face when she sat down and showed him how to build a bridge between his two sand hills so his truck could drive underneath. They played together all morning.”

“Is it…too soon for a crush, you know, developmentally?” My throat is bone-dry, and the words sound so brittle they could crack with a tiny breeze.

“Oh, no. It’s perfectly normal. I’ve had kids stage fake weddings to each other at age four. All the other kids get so excited to play a part.”

“But it’s really just for show,” I confirm. Weddings?

“Well, yes, they’re modeling what they know adults do, but of course they don’t think they’re really married at this age. It’s just a way to explore feelings. So sweet.”

“Yeah. Sweet.” I swallow down a wave of nausea.

I know I’m going to have to get used to Scout taking an interest in girls eventually, but today is not the day I can stomach it. My own fake relationship is hard enough to deal with.

I debate whether it would be too much helicoptering to ask Cyndi to keep me posted on every interaction between the two of them, but Scout looks up and sees me before I can make a giant ass of myself.

“Daddy!” Scout comes running through the preschool yard with his arms outstretched. I lift him and swing him in a circle as his sandy hands grip my neck, and he giggles against my cheek. This kid is still just a kid, I tell myself. I don’t need to worry about him growing up, at least not today.

Scout runs to his cubby to grab his windbreaker and his favorite hat, a brown kid-sized cowboy version of the one I wear when I wrangle the cattle. “You follow the rules and take it off indoors?” I ask.

“Yes, Daddy. ’Course.” He tops his head with it the second we’re out the door and walking down the lane. The string of it hangs halfway down his chest, and I can no longer see his face beneath the brim, but I hear Scout singing a song about elephants and feel the first glimmer of peace in a long time at the idea that I could win our custody battle.

We drive home in my truck, and Scout points out all the tractors and trucks we see on the way, and I act surprised, even though they’re pretty much the same tractors and trucks we see every day. “I have a business associate coming by the house for a meeting. It won’t take long, and we can have the meeting out back while you feed the animals.” I cringe at calling Callie my “business associate.” I have no idea where that came from, but maybe all the preschool wedding talk has me afraid to call Callie my “special” anything.

“Okay.” Scout is counting on his fingers. “That’s already three hay bailers and still need to drive past the big ranch.”