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“How’s your dream going?”

She forced herself back to the present. “Still waiting to hear back from the letters I told you I sent out.”

“Keep riding the bronc.”

She nodded. “I will.”

They were still studying each other silently when Regan came out. “Eddy sent me to tell you you’re about to miss dessert.”

They reluctantly severed the contact and Kent said, “Can’t have that. We’re coming.”

Regan went back inside.

He stood and held out his hand. “You ready?”

“Yes.” She placed her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He kissed her fingers, causing a quiet warmth to ripple over her. “Thanks for helping me calm down.”

“You’re welcome.”

Inside, Portia still on his mind, Kent piled his plate high with Eddy’s signature peach cobbler, then mounded ice cream on top. He pointedly ignored his father who seemed to get the message and kept his distance. But when Kent finished his dessert, Oliver walked to his side. “Can I speak with you privately for a few moments?”

“Why, so you can upbraid me again?”

He dropped his eyes as if embarrassed. “No. Rhine said we could use his office. Do you know where that is?”

Kent didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “Follow me.”

Upon entering the quiet space, Oliver sat but Kent remained standing.

“First of all, let me apologize for what I said. It served no purpose other than to anger you and make me look like an old fool.”

Kent agreed and wanted to ask if he was seeking forgiveness because Sylvia had demanded he do so, but he didn’t ask.

His father sighed. “I’m dying, Kenton.”

Kent froze.

“The doctors have given me six months to a year tops to get my affairs in order.”

Kent ran frantic eyes over him and for the first time really focused on him. And what he saw scared him: the sparse gray hair, the tired eyes, slumped shoulders, and sallow skin. He was also incredibly thin. Kent had chalked up his appearance to his being old. Oliver was in his late seventies, but now he realized that there was more at play. “Does Sylvia know?”

“Yes. She and I have spent the past six months going from doctor to doctor hoping to get a different diagnosis, but they all told us the same thing.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Constantly.”

Kent didn’t know what to say. Yes, he and his father butted heads like bighorn sheep but this was too awful to think about. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Other than taking me as I am and not fighting me over the money I plan to leave you, no.”

Kent replied in a voice softened by emotion. “Oliver, I don’t need your money.”

“I know how proud you are, Kenton, but you will need it for the family you and Portia may make together.”

Kent couldn’t help the wry smile that curved his lips. “You picked up on that, did you?”

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