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“Means that she and the baby are fine,” I continued.

“Yeah, means that.” His eyes remained closed as he shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression and emotions indecipherable.

“Are you…Are you upset or something?” I cautiously asked, sliding myself slowly down from the counter. Maybe I was supposed to feel ashamed by what we’d almost done, but at this point, I was mostly confused over his reaction.

“Yeah, I am,” he grumbled.

And my heart shattered, the pieces crumbling to the floor as quickly as his buttons had. I’d made him upset. Wrapping my arms around my body, my attempt to hide myself away failed as he dropped his chin to his chest and opened his eyes.

Immediately, his brows lifted, and he raced across the room. “Woah, not at you, Goldie!” he gasped and jerked me into his chest, encircling me in his embrace. Gently swaying, he held me. “I’m upset that we were interrupted. I’m upset that I’ve gotta leave you and this house to go do chores with a moody eighteen-year-old and help babysit a couple kids when the most incredible, beautiful woman I’ve ever met is right here.” His fingers snaked into my hair as he tightened me against his body.

“Okay, that’s fair,” I muttered. Each puzzle piece of my heart found its rightful place back in my chest with every word he uttered, and I knew I couldn’t stay here alone and wait for him again. Every part of me desired to be wherever he was, doing whatever he wanted or needed to do. “I can come with and help?” I offered.

“Mmmmm, if your version of helping means a few public displays of affection, then absolutely,” he teased, burying his face in my hair.

“Let me go get my hat,” I answered and gently whacked him against his back. Giddiness filled my soul as he rocked side to side even faster, still holding me a little longer. He knew, despite my subtle defiance, that I most certainly would give into any sort of physical expressions of intimacy that he wanted. Obviously within the boundaries of what was appropriate in front of others, but that didn’t mean my heart soared any less.

If only my father could see how happy Cassidy made me.

Or how safe I was here, despite all of the craziness going on.

I didn’t care that my mother had abandoned me, nor did I care any longer that my father had lied about it. I still wanted answers, but in the end, the people that cared about me, loved me, wanted me, they stayed—which included my dad.

And they were the ones that really mattered.

∞∞∞

“Briar!” Keaton’s voice bounced through the air as I followed behind Cassidy around the corner. The red-headed boy waved at me, a grin on his face as he sat next to Butch on top of some hay bales.

That’s right, I thought. Butch was Keaton’s brother, and sitting next to each other, and besides their hair color and age difference, they looked nearly identical.

Cassidy’s fingers tightened in mine, as if he was proudly displaying that I’d admitted I had feelings for him. We weren’t together, at least not that I knew of, but we weren’t not together? Maybe?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that his hand was holding mine and that we were walking together.

“Hi, Keaton!” I shouted, waving in response. Butch leaned back, stuck a stalk of hay between his teeth, and grinned, all too knowingly for the situation.

“Glad to see you finally accepted the fact that Uncle Cassidy is into you,” Keaton admonished, a very similar grin to his brother’s slipping onto his face.

“Nothin’ gets past you, does it?” Cassidy mumbled beside me, letting go of my hand and throwing his arm around my shoulders. The red-headed boy hopped down from the haystack.

“Have you seen our family? I’m pretty sure the week or so that Weston and Tenley dated in secret was a world record around here,” he teased.

“Fair enough,” my cowboy answered as we stopped in front of Keaton. “Where’s Millie?”

“Bathroom,” Butch answered, jumping down as well.

“Okay, well let’s go get started with chores and keep an eye out for her,” Cassidy instructed. Both boys nodded, and then we were off.

And somehow, I found myself sitting on a rail, watching a fully grown man have a standoff with his eighteen-year-old nephew—all at the request of the seven-year-old girl who had devised this as a plan to see who would get me on their side to help them with their individual chores. That was all we had left for the evening to finish up.

Cassidy rocked the stalk of hay in his teeth, keeping his chin tucked to his chest and his hat low over his eyes. His fingers hovered over his waistband where the airsoft pistol was holstered. All that was needed was an old, wild west saloon door creaking as he entered and the sound of trumpets to follow. Shifting to a wider stance, his spurs rang out and his chaps billowed in the light wind.

“Didn’t think you’d show.” Cassidy lifted his chin, and I could’ve sworn a red-tail hawk call danced through the air. “Friend,” he added tauntingly, laying the old western accent on thick.

Butch, in a similar style outfit with his own airsoft pistol holstered on his waist, inhaled deeply. “I never miss a chance to duel at high noon.” He widened his stance as well and turned his head sideways, peering at Cassidy from the corner of his eye.

“More like evening noon,” Cassidy answered and exaggerated narrowing his gaze. “Friend,” he added. He flexed his fingers, and the hawk called again, then a tumbleweed just happened to roll across the pasture they were having their standoff in.