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West frowned. “When did you get rid of the cattle?”
“Years ago.” Hadn’t he heard of it? Everyone in Starry Hills knew I’d sold them shortly after my eighteenth birthday, when I’d inherited the place. The only thing I’d kept was the name, as I couldn’t bring myself to change it.
Avery went to her father and took his hand. “Please, Daddy. There’s not as much room to play at home with all the tours and construction and stuff now. Here we can play with the kitties or visit the little creek and the meadow. Not to mention the little swing set Millie has. Please, Daddy. It’s so boring at home.”
West’s frown deepened. “She’s too busy to watch over you.”
I should keep my mouth shut. After all, they weren’t my kids. West, despite his faults, was protective of them, one of the few things I admired about the bastard.
And yet I blurted, “Were you constantly watched when you were ten going on eleven? Because I wasn’t—Abby and I roamed around wild during the summers. Plus, my neighbors are the Evans and the King families, both of which are friends and they’d let us know if anything happened.”
West crossed his arms over his chest and studied me. I never looked away. He could intimidate a lot of people, but I wasn’t one of them.
Wyatt walked up to his dad. “Please, Dad. Just listen. You never ask what we want.”
Pain flashed across West’s gaze again before he squatted down to his son’s level. “That’s not true, Wyatt.”
“It is. You made us come to Starry Hills.”
“You stayed here before and said you liked it.”
“For one summer. Now I have no friends. I hate it here.”
Wyatt walked away, toward the fence beyond my lavender fields. Avery blurted, “I’ll follow him,” and dashed after her brother.
West remained crouched down, his hands on his knees, and for a split second, I felt sorry for him. Being a parent wasn’t easy, and a single one doubly difficult.
But then he stood, glared at me, and any nice feelings I had for the man vanished. He growled, “My kids aren’t your business, Emilia. Stay out of it.”
With that, he walked away, and I saw him catch up to the twins in the distance.
As much as it grated to agree with him on anything, Weston Wolfe was right—they weren’t my concern.
So even though every part of me wanted to help the twins, to make them happy in a way I would never deserve, I ignored it and stomped off toward my house and my office. All that mattered was running my business, helping people make happy memories year after year, and maybe one day I’d finally forgive myself for killing my parents.
ChapterThree
Weston
Aunt Lori:
West:???
Aunt Lori:Time’s ticking. Don’t be late.
West:Okay.
Aunt Lori: You’re no fun.
Maybe I shouldn’t have snapped at Emilia. However, I’d been trying my fucking hardest to do right for my kids, even if it meant they hated me. They didn’t know what their maternal grandparents had wanted to do with them. Not only had they wanted to send them to a fancy boarding school where I’d rarely get to see them, but they’d also talked about filing for joint or maybe even sole custody.
It was bullshit, of course. They had no reason or grounds to take my kids away from me. I’d been the one busting my ass to improve the quality of their cattle, the one to try to get their daughter the help she needed, the one who’d moved heaven and earth to try to keep my family together.
At first, I’d tried to brush off their scheming as some sort of way to deal with their grief. Even if I hadn’t loved Andrea in many, many years, I’d never wished for her death and had tried to respect how hard it must have been for her parents.
But my hard work and attempts to help my in-laws had backfired. The Grenvilles used it to say I was neglecting my children. Another email from them earlier hadn’t helped my mood either.
Then I was in front of the woman I’d dreamed about the night before, looking all sexy as the sun shone down on her while my kids smiled up at her, as if tempting me with a dream that would never become reality.
