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Grabbing up a stack of napkins, I laugh aloud in the middle of the kitchen. “What if?” I murmur, heart fluttering in agreement.
I open the junk drawer where takeout napkins and ketchup packets live and deposit the napkins. As I do, my thumb catches a piece of paper. Curious, I sweep away the junk to find a photo. I lift it to eye level.
A girl in blue jeans and a simple white tank top sits on the back of a champagne-colored horse. She’s laughing, looking away from the camera, leather reins in her hand. Her long, fiery red hair flows behind her as she rides. She’s beautiful, yet there’s a fierceness in her eyes that catches my breath.
A throat being cleared has me jumping.
My head jerks up and I blanch. “I’m sorry,” I say, dropping the photo on the counter. Ford stands at the island. He looks like a leaner version of Davis, except with shaggier hair and a relaxed grin. A rush of shame hits me that he caught me snooping. “I was cleaning up, and I—”
“You don’t have to explain.” A muscle jerks in his jaw as he nods at the photo. “That’s Maggie.”
“Maggie?”
I look back at the photo. It’s been buried deep within the drawer, but not deep enough that it can’t be found. The corners creased like it’s been handled often. Recognition dawns. It resembles a worn-out photo of my mother that my father—
Oh god.
Oh my god.
A heart strangling thought hits me.
The worst thought.
The worst possibility.
I gasp.
In an instant, the pieces of the puzzle drop into place. The reason Charlie’s so hesitant to speak about his past. The way he stares at me when I’m on Arrow, his eyes glued to every move I make when I ride. His deep frown, his protective nature, his gruff growl. It’s all because he’s a forever grieving cowboy who lives alone on his ranch and doesn’t talk to anyone.
Pressure builds behind my eyes. I look up at Ford. “She died?” I whisper.
He nods again. “She did. Been gone ten years now.” Hesitation crosses his face, then he says, “She and Charlie were engaged.”
My eyes widen. My heart drops.
“I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“I figured.” Dragging a hand down his handsome face, Ford shakes his head. “Charlie, he’s not so good with talking about his past.”
“You don’t have to explain.” A tear rolls down my cheek. “He should be the one to tell me when he wants to.”
After one last look at the photo, I gently put it back where I found it. It’s important to respect Charlie’s privacy like he’s respected mine.
That’s when Ford’s brown eyes flick to the counter. To my pills.
The breath leaves my lungs, and every ounce of blood drains from my face.
For a long few seconds, silence.
I hurry across the room, grab them up and shove them back into my purse.
“Listen, Ruby,” Ford says, as if carefully selecting his words. “I know y’all got some boundaries and my brother may be too stupid to say it, but he likes you. A lot. You’re the reason he’s out there saddling up with a smile today.”
His statement doesn’t make me feel better. It makes me feel worse.
“We got him back because of you.” His jaw flexes, and I’m horrified when his voice cracks. Like a million pieces of the past are shattering inside of him. “I’m asking you, honey, don’t be his new heartbreak. We can’t lose him again.”
My heart hammers faster. A wave of guilt rocks me like a rogue wave.
