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“You know, if you ever need someone to talk to, we’re all here.”
“I know. Sometimes I don’t want to talk.”
“That’s okay too.”
“But right now…” He stopped for a few seconds, and then went on. “Right now I have something I want to say.”
“Okay. You want me to wake up your dad?”
“No. I want to say it to you.”
I tried not to jerk in my chair from surprise. “Of course. You can tell me anything. I’ll do my best to help.”
“Okay,” he said. More silence.
“Take your time,” I finally said.
“I…”
I nodded, hoping to urge him forward but also give him time and space.
“Sometimes I miss my mom. My real mom.”
Was that all? “Honey, that’s okay. It’s completely normal.”
“I’m scared.”
“Why?”
“Because. I miss her. But it’s getting harder and harder to see her in my mind.”
My heart hurt. We didn’t have any photos of Cheri, the boys’ biological mother. None had been found in her small home. Only a few portraits of the boys at different ages. No close relatives to shed light on her either, which at the time seemed like a godsend. Talon and Jade’s petition for adoption had been simple and quick. But now… Of course the boys missed their mother. It was only natural, and a photo or two would have helped.
“Why don’t you draw a picture of her?”
“I’m no good at drawing.”
I sat silently for a few seconds, hoping some words of wisdom would come to me.
They didn’t.
So I simply sat, my thigh still painful, and watched the tormented little boy who was my nephew.
And I realized how ridiculous I’d been.
I couldn’t have Bryce Simpson. So what? This child had been through more in his ten years on earth than most face in a lifetime.
Time to stop feeling sorry for myself and take action.
Once the boys’ adoption was final and Jade had given birth, I was out of here.
Paris and Le Cordon Bleu.
And for now? I had a prospect.
Dominic James. He wasn’t Bryce, but maybe he could help take my mind off the man I truly wanted until I could leave the ranch.
If not?
