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His hands make their way to my neck and he holds my head still. “He’s right—I don’t deserve you, but now that I have you back, I’m never lettin’ you go. I love you,” he says before his mouth covers mine and he kisses me breathless.
Erinn leaps over the couch and runs to hug me. I don’t want to let her go, but before long she releases me. “Finally,” she says, and Battle laughs.
Roy is equally as excited to see me. He herds me into a corner, his tail creating wind as he wags it with love.
While we’re out to dinner, Erinn tells me all about her school and her best friend, Hannah. The delight in her eyes warms me. I wish Evelyn was here to see her grow up, but I know she’s smiling from above.
After we get ice cream, we go back to Battle’s. Erinn fights going to bed, and I’m impressed at how much he’s grown into his role as her caretaker. His patience lasts longer and he effortlessly turns the tables and controls the situation. She isn’t happy about going to bed, but she accepts it, and even kisses Battle goodnight.
He takes my hand, guiding me through his room and into the bathroom, where he fills the tub. “Take a bath with me.”
“Another first for us, McCoy.” I grin, sashaying out of my jeans.
I sink into the warm water, relaxing against his chest. “Shall I get the dice?” I ask.
“What do you want to know,” he asks, massaging my shoulders.
“Tell me why you dislike your father so much.”
His fingers stop rubbing my skin. “Dislike is too polite a word to describe how I feel about my father.”
“Why?”
He moves to my back, his fingers working along my spine.
“I don’t like talkin’ about him.”
I should have brought the dice. I know from James his family has dark secrets, one of which concerns Battle. If I had the dice, he would tell me. Without them, getting the truth out of him will be much harder.
“I don’t like talkin’ about my grammy dyin’, but sometimes it helps.”
“You first then,” he laughs softy, dropping kisses on my shoulder.
I share with him how close Gram and I were, and how devastated my family is that we’ll never have closure. How I have a void in my heart without her, but I know she’s still with me. He laughs when I say how independent and feisty she was, and how he’s made me realize I’m a lot like her.
Battle explains that his relationship with his father all but ended with his parents’ divorce. He took his mother’s side and his father wrote him off. His granddaddy took him under his wing. His voice breaks when he tells me about his grandfather dying, and his father not bothering to come to the funeral. I didn’t get to what actually put a wedge between father and son, but I’m getting closer. Gerald McCoy sounds like a selfish, heartless man. Thankfully Battle is nothing like him.
All of Battle’s traits are a gift from Evelyn.
The next few months fly by in a whirlwind as I coordinate the balancing act of my new life—Battle, Erinn, work, family, and friends. I moved in with Battle last month and put my house on the market. Any traces of doubt he ever had about love and comm
itment have vanished. I love that I can help him with Erinn, and ease his worries about leaving her to follow the tour.
Battle wins two more rodeos. He’s being hounded by the national tour to join them. I convince him to hear them out, and he has an appointment next week to discuss it.
I hosted a baby shower last month for Katie which was wonderful, but my party planning days are far from behind me. I’ll be planning a bachelorette party and bridal shower soon. JT proposed to Ginger last month, and this morning, Marty and I take her shopping for a wedding dress.
She exits the fitting room in a floor length white gown that was made for her.
“Oh, Ging, you look beautiful,” I say, tearing up.
“No, tears,” she says. “Pretty soon, it will be you and Marty wearing a white dress.”
“Not me,” Marty laughs. “I’m wearing red.”
We laugh, but I have no doubt Marty will wear red, and Austin will love her choice. As for me wearing a wedding gown; maybe someday. Battle and I have never discussed marriage. I don’t bring it up as I know how painful his parents’ divorce was for him. His heart is scarred by the sacrament. I imagine he feels like a license doesn’t make you anymore married than going to church on Sundays makes you a good Christian.
I don’t need the piece of paper when I have his heart.
