Page 22 of Before You Can Blink (Rust Canyon #4)

Jett

September

“Hey, what’s the ETA on the foreman’s house?” Wade asked as we rode across the range to check on the mares that were getting close to foaling.

Using the back of my hand, I wiped the sweat from my brow and twisted my neck around to give my best friend a look that said, Are you fucking kidding me right now?

When he continued to stare at me expectantly, I shook my head in disbelief. “Hell if I know, Wade. Sure as shit ain’t gonna be until I have one up.”

He squirmed in his saddle, tugging on the back of his neck. “Yeah, but you’ve got the cabin.”

I barked out a sarcastic laugh. “You know what? You’re right. I forgot about the luxury accommodations of a one-room dwelling that I share with my wife and child, where it takes all of fifteen paces to get from end to end. ”

A flush of pink crept up Wade’s neck. “Right. You’re right. Forget I asked.”

His quick backtrack had me feeling like an asshole.

Sure, I was constantly stressed about everything, from the horses to money to keeping my family fed, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on a guy who had done nothing but support me and my family as we worked toward making this ranch profitable someday.

My chest rose with the force of my heavy sigh. “What’s wrong with the bunkhouse?”

With a grimace, he confessed, “Can’t bring my wife to live there.”

“Wife?” I coughed out the word. “Did you say wife?”

He lifted his left hand, and the sun glinted off the band of gold encircling his fourth finger.

I scoffed. “Well, fuck, Wade. Thanks for the invite.” I made no effort to conceal my annoyance that while he’d served as my best man, I hadn’t even been in attendance at his wedding.

“Came together quick,” he admitted.

“What was the damn rush?” I was well aware that I had no room to cast stones, given that my own engagement had only spanned one month.

“Remember that shotgun Old Man Livingston showed me when I started working for him?”

Well, that answered the question as to who Wade married.

“Yeah . . .”

“He pointed it right at my balls when Caroline told him she was pregnant.”

I choked on my own damn spit. Hacking up a lung, my throat on fire, I managed to croak out, “Pregnant?”

“Uh-huh. About eight weeks.”

Dragging a hand down my face, I muttered, “Jesus, Wade. ”

“Oh, I know you’re not sittin’ over there judging me when your little redheaded ‘whoopsie’ is running around this land.”

I gritted my teeth. “At least I was married first.”

“You won’t want to hear this, but I don’t see knocking up Caroline as a bad thing. No way would I have gotten her daddy’s permission had I asked outright.”

“Except that you jumped the gun on this whole thing, Wade. You said it yourself: you can’t bring your wife to live in the bunkhouse, and you certainly can’t raise a baby there.”

And because I knew exactly what Daisy would say when I told her all this, my head dropped back on a groan, knowing the choice had already been made for me. We’d be stuck living another year in that fucking cabin while I built a house for my best friend and his new family.

At this rate, we’d still be living there when Aspen graduated from high school.

October

Vaguely aware of tires kicking up gravel in the distance, I kept my focus on the nail gun as I rhythmically pulled the trigger, moving down the framework of what would eventually become a wall for the Atkinses’ house.

Wade was working opposite me, the two of us spending every free minute out here as we raced against the clock to make sure he had somewhere to bring his baby home from the hospital.

It wasn’t set to be anything fancy, but it would be functional.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen—though the kitchen would take up most of the first floor and have extra appliances, as Caroline had agreed to bring her cooking skills to Sullivan Ranch and would handle feeding our crew going forward.

“Not sure why Murph is in such a rush,” Wade mumbled under his breath. “If I didn’t have to be out here, I wouldn’t.”

I shot him a glare. Did he honestly think I wanted to be out here when I could be at home with my girls? The fall chill was biting, and I would kill to be cuddled up beneath the covers, sharing body heat, while Daisy read a story until Aspen fell asleep in my arms.

The vehicle came to a stop behind us, and Murphy called out, “Jett!”

Shoving the protective goggles up so they rested atop my head, I craned my neck around to find he was still inside his truck, leaning out the open window.

“You gettin’ out to help or what?” More hands making less work was the only way this house would get finished on time.

Lips pulling into a thin line, he shook his head. “Doc Stevens’ office called me, knowing you’d be unreachable out here.”

Heart rate kicking into high gear, I was on my feet in a flash. “What happened?”

“Aspen’s hurt.”

Those words might as well have been a dagger plunged straight into my heart, the pain of it so sharp it stole my breath away.

“Get in. I’ll take you over there.”

Running down the already-constructed porch steps, I raced toward Murph’s truck, hauling myself into the passenger seat and yelling at him to start driving before I was even buckled.

Chest heaving, I demanded answers. “Hurt how?”

Murphy’s eyes remained fixed forward as he navigated over the open terrain. “Wouldn’t tell me. Said something about privacy laws.”

“Fuck.” I slammed my hand on the dash .

The whole drive, my mind went wild, imagining every possible scenario, each one more terrifying than the last.

When we finally reached the building that served as the town’s family medical practice, I bolted from the truck before it stopped moving. Hitting the ground running, I burst through the door and immediately heard the piercing cries of my baby girl.

Maryanne stood from reception. “Jett, they’re—”

Before she could finish that sentence, I was halfway down the hallway, having tracked the location of my baby’s pained wails. Scared shitless of what I would find on the other side, I took a steadying breath before pushing inside the exam room.

Aspen’s face was red as a tomato as she screamed her head off. Snot ran freely from her nose, mixing with the drool spilling from her wide-open mouth, before it dribbled past her chin.

Daisy wasn’t faring much better. Her tear-streaked face was blotchy and pink, and great hiccupping sobs wracked her body as she tried to restrain our daughter while Doc Stevens focused on her pudgy little hands.

“Daze,” I breathed out in a rush. “Got here as soon as I could.”

Red-rimmed blue eyes lifted, and my wife absolutely crumbled before my eyes. “Jett, I-I’m so sor-ry.”

When I stepped forward, Aspen caught sight of me. Ripping her hands out of Doc Stevens’s hold, she reached both of them toward me, and her cries increased in volume.

Easing her out of Daisy’s hold, I winced at the shrill decibel of her screams. “What happened, sweet girl?”

“It’s all my f-fault,” Daisy blubbered before burying her face in her hands.

Doc Stevens placed a comforting hand on my wife’s knee. “It was an accident. ”

Looping an arm around her waist, I shifted her across the exam table so I could take a seat beside her. She immediately buried her face in my neck, body trembling violently.

I pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of her head before turning my attention to the doctor. “What’re we dealing with?”

His chest expanded on a deep inhale. “Second-degree burns on both palms.”

“Sec—” My words trailed off, and I honed in on the angry, red, blistered skin of my daughter’s hands. Sucking in a sharp breath, I murmured, “Oh, baby girl. How in the world did you manage to do this?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” came Daisy’s muffled confession. “We haven’t needed to use the stove for heat since she started walking. One minute, she was playing with her blocks across the room while I made dinner. The next, she was screaming, her tiny hands pressed to the hot iron.”

My wife might be blaming herself, but I was the one who’d put my family in this situation. Most parents didn’t have to worry about protecting their children from 19th-century exposed heating elements.

With my family paying the price for my failings, I began to wonder if they might be better off without me. I was ashamed to admit the thought had crossed my mind to send them both back East to Daisy’s father. At least until I figured out how to take care of them the way they deserved.

I squeezed her tighter to my side. “It’s okay. Like Doc said, it was an accident.”

“But her little hands.” Daisy’s hot tears soaked through the fabric of my flannel.

“Will be just fine,” Doc reassured her. “If we can get her still enough, I’ll apply some ointment and wrap her up.

Keep the area clean and dry for at least a week.

Change the bandages daily and administer pain relievers as needed.

You do that and, in a few weeks, it’ll be like this never happened. ”

“See, Daze? Our girl will be right as rain in no time.”

Too bad it wouldn’t be so easy to soothe my guilty conscience.

All that crying and screaming wore Aspen out, and now, she was passed out in the middle of our bed, her outstretched hands wrapped up like a mummy.

I didn’t have the heart to move her into her crib tonight.

I needed to keep her close, needed to soak in as much of her sweet scent as humanly possible to carry me through the days ahead we were going to spend apart.

Running a hand through my hair, I blew out a heavy breath. “Daisy, we need to talk.”

My wife’s eyes never left our sleeping daughter. “Okay.”

“I think it might be best if you and Aspen go stay with your dad for a while.”

“What?” She sat upright in bed, freezing when our baby girl stirred and let out the tiniest whimper.

Time stood still while we waited to see if she would wake.

When Aspen curled onto her side, Daisy slid from the mattress, pacing the floor. “You want to send us away?”