Page 28 of Before You Can Blink (Rust Canyon #4)

Jett

October

“What do you think?” Nerves skittered down my spine as Daisy did a walkthrough of the house I’d completed the finishing touches on only yesterday.

With Tripp on her hip, she surveyed the space before turning to me with a smile bright enough to light up an entire city. “I think we’re home.”

Hope filled my chest. “Yeah?”

She closed the distance between us. “This is where our kids are gonna grow up. This is where, someday, our grandchildren will come visit us. And this is where I’m gonna grow old with you, Jett Sullivan.”

That last declaration had my breath hitching.

Losing Murph had forced me to face my own mortality. The two men I looked up to most—him and my father—had left this earth too soon, and recently, I’d spent far too many days wondering if I would live long enough to see my hair threaded with gray or watch my kids graduate from high school.

So hearing Daisy make plans for a future I wasn’t convinced I would ever witness caused an ache to form beneath my sternum. I wanted so much to live out that beautiful dream with her, but if life had taught me anything, it was that sometimes you didn’t get a choice in when you met your maker.

“Daddy!” Aspen’s excited cry chased the shadows away, and I turned just in time to catch her flying leap.

Eyes bright, she placed both hands on my face. “Big bed for me?”

Schooling my features to appear stern, I asked, “Were you sneaking around upstairs, young lady?”

Unashamed, she nodded enthusiastically, making her copper curls bounce. “Yes!”

I twisted my lips to the side, giving them a tap with my finger. “You know, now that I think about it, that pretty purple room is for Tripp.”

Her lips parted in shock a split second before she realized I was teasing. She shoved at my shoulders, chastising, “Daddy.”

I tickled her sides, relishing the sound of her squeals. Once she was breathless, I granted mercy, hugging her to my chest with a smile. If wealth could be measured in happiness and love, I was the richest man in Rust Canyon, no question.

When she had sufficiently recovered from my tickle attack, Aspen shouted, “Mama, come see!”

I set her down and she raced over to Daisy, grabbing her free hand and tugging her toward the stairs. My wife went willingly, laughing as if our daughter’s enthusiasm was infectious.

Trailing behind them, I propped my shoulder on the doorframe of the room I’d painted purple for Aspen, content to simply watch as she bounced from the twin bed to her basket of toys already transplanted from the cabin to the Jack and Jill bathroom that connected her room to her brother’s.

Daisy caught me silently observing with my heart about to burst. Softly, she said, “You did good, Jett.”

I swallowed roughly, giving her a silent nod.

Since the accident, I’d been trying to do right by my family, and today was the first time it felt like I was taking a step in the right direction.

December

Main Street was packed. Storefronts showcased festive displays, lampposts featured wreaths, and at the end stood a large fir tree, ready to be lit before the crowd and decorated by those who called this town home.

The annual Christmas tree lighting was in full swing.

Aspen was perched atop my shoulders, while Daisy kept Tripp nestled close to her chest. At nearly seventeen months, that kid still flipped his shit anytime someone other than his mama—or Penny—tried to touch him. As a result, Aspen became my little buddy, and our bond was stronger than ever.

“How does cookies and hot chocolate sound?” Daisy shouted the question over the Christmas carols amplified through speakers along the street.

“Yes!” Aspen cheered, clapping her hands.

Daisy smiled at our daughter before turning to me. “Divide and conquer?”

With two little ones, that seemed to be our strength these days—working together but separately for a common goal.

Nodding, I agreed to her plan. “I’ll get the ornaments and meet you out front of the Range.” Naomi always dragged some high-top tables outside for this event, so there would be a place for my wife to safely rest the trio of hot beverages until my return.

We split up, and I mumbled “pardon me” on a loop as I made my way through the mass of bodies congregated in the middle of the street. Even though I wasn’t the least bit claustrophobic, I still breathed a sigh of relief when I finally reached the stall taking donations for ornaments.

Sliding Aspen off my shoulders but keeping her in my arms—this chaos was no place to let her run free—I asked her, “Which one do you like, darlin’?”

Pursing her little lips, she surveyed the selection before declaring loudly, “The horsey!”

I chuckled. There was no denying she was my daughter with her love for horses.

Rose Crawford was quick to lift the horse-shaped ceramic figurine, handing it to Aspen and warning gently, “Careful you don’t drop it, sweetheart.”

Part of me wondered if my girl had even heard her. She was so transfixed on the snow-white horse with a painted gray mane in her tiny little hands that she murmured, “Pretty horsey.”

Jostling her on my hip, I prompted, “What do you say to Mrs. Crawford?”

Suddenly shy, Aspen burrowed her face into my chest, her “thank you” muffled in the fabric of my coat.

“You’re most welcome.” Rose beamed at my daughter before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “She’s a beautiful little girl, Jett.”

“Thank you.” My chest puffed with pride. There were still days when I couldn’t believe I’d helped create something so perfect.

If memory served, Rose had a daughter around Aspen’s age herself, so I asked, “Where’s your little one tonight? ”

Rose hummed. “Caught a little sniffle, so Nathan kept her home.”

“Sorry to hear. I’ll keep her in my thoughts.”

“Appreciate it.” She ducked her head. “Now, what can I get for the rest of your family?”

A sparkling red poinsettia caught my eye, and even though it wasn’t a daisy, it was a flower nonetheless, and I selected it for my wife. For me, I chose a ball-shaped ornament featuring a painting of the nativity scene.

When it came to picking one for Tripp, I consulted Aspen. “What should we get for your brother?”

“Tripp wants a horsey too!” she exclaimed so close to my ear that it caused me to flinch.

Scanning the offerings, I was unable to locate a second horse ornament. “Sorry, honey. I think you got the only horsey.”

I looked to Rose, who quickly confirmed, “Your daddy’s right. Only one horsey, and you were lucky enough to snatch it up before anyone else.”

“How about this one?” I held up a snowman.

Aspen lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. Clearly, if it wasn’t a horse, she wasn’t interested.

“Guess that’s what I get for asking a three-year-old,” I joked with Rose.

Fishing in my wallet, I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and placed it in the donation jar.

I wished I could give more, but that’s all we could afford to spare.

It would have to be enough that Daisy was among the volunteers tasked with organizing and wrapping gifts for the families in need this holiday season.

Rose smiled warmly. “Merry Christmas, Jett. Tell Daisy I’ll see her on Sunday.”

“Will do.” I tipped my hat before gathering up the ornaments for my family. “Merry Christmas to you and yours, and I hope that your little one is feeling better soon. ”

Weaving through the crowd once more, I made it to where Daisy bounced a restless Tripp.

“Mama, look! I got a horsey!” Aspen exclaimed when we got close enough.

Putting on an exaggerated show of interest, Daisy gushed, “Ooh! A horsey? Your favorite!”

“I got the only one,” she declared proudly.

“Well, aren’t you the luckiest little girl this Christmas?” she cooed at our daughter. “Why don’t you come, have a seat, and drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold?”

I set Aspen down on the high-top chair, keeping a hand locked over her thighs so she didn’t shift too far toward the edge and fall off.

That girl was carrying on an animated, one-sided conversation with her brother, who couldn’t be bothered to care about anything she had to say, when the lights on the street dimmed, and the announcement came that the tree lighting was only minutes away.

Not in any hurry to be packed in like sardines, I suggested to my family, “Let’s watch from here, then wait ’til the crowd clears to put on our ornaments.”

Daisy nodded her agreement, prompting our daughter, “That sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it?”

Aspen was too busy stuffing sugar cookies into her mouth to respond. I’d have to cut her off soon or else she’d be up all night with a stomachache.

Beckoning Daisy closer as the countdown began, I curled my free arm around her waist, pulling her into my side.

Those gathered chanted the final seconds in unison. “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one!”

Like magic, the lights illuminated from the bottom to the top of the giant tree until they reached the glittering star at the highest point .

Cookie crumbs dusted Aspen’s parted lips as she stared wide-eyed at the brilliant display.

“Wow.”

It might’ve only been a single word, but it was uttered with such wonder that it made me want to preserve her innocence, to protect her from the harsh realities of this world.

Having been chewed up and spit out by life, I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe that was possible.

She would grow up someday and be forced to navigate whatever path she chose for herself.

But I knew one thing for certain: I would always be there to catch her when she fell, offering a shoulder to cry on until she worked up the courage to try again.

As many times as she needed.

July

Who knew a party this small could create such a mess?

The sun was setting on Tripp’s second birthday, and while my wife was putting the kids to bed, I was out back with a trash bag, cleaning up the aftermath.

As I threw away an endless amount of wrapping paper scraps, paper plates, and plastic cups, my mind began to wander.

Two years.

It felt like a lifetime ago, but at the same time, I could still picture Daisy’s painful struggle like it was yesterday.

A shudder still ran through me every time I thought about what was, hands-down, the most terrifying day of my life. And lucky me, every year, I’d be forced to relive it as we celebrated the anniversary of my son’s birth with those closest to us .

With my task completed, I went inside, washed my hands, and trudged up the steps. When I reached the landing, the melodic humming coming from the open nursery door had my feet automatically moving in that direction.

At the threshold, I paused to drink in the sight of Daisy in the rocking chair, her feet pushing off the ground to keep the soothing motion rhythmic enough to lull Tripp to sleep. With a serene smile on her face, my wife looked down at our son, who was attached to her breast.

Stepping inside, I leaned against the far wall. “Isn’t he getting too old for this?”

When Daisy peeked up, I jerked my chin toward the nursing toddler, who had grown so large his legs hung over the side of her lap.

“He’ll wean when he’s ready.” Her reply carried a trace of defensiveness.

Sarcastic laughter broke free from my chest. “Show me a man who’s gonna give up free rein to suck on a pair of tits all day.”

My wife shot me a glare before her gaze softened, and she sighed.

“Is it so wrong that I’m not ready to let go of this part yet?

” She used a fingertip to trace the curve of Tripp’s cheek.

“When Aspen was this age, we already had Tripp on the way, but she was done being my baby long before that. I’m just trying to make it last, is all. ”

Without conscious thought, I blurted, “Is that what you want? Another baby?” Hell, at this point, giving her that might be the only way I would be getting laid anytime soon. I could count the number of times we’d had sex since Tripp was born on one hand.

Her lips folded inward, and she shook her head. “I can’t ask that of you when we’re still getting our footing with the ranch.”

Shame curdled like sour milk in my gut that Daisy was suppressing her desires because I still didn’t have my shit together when it came to supporting our family.

We’d had four years of foals, but it would still be a few more before I could place that first batch of them into competition.

And while that would—hopefully—be profitable for the ranch, it would mean I’d be back on the road during the rodeo season, forced to leave my family behind for months on end.

Like a cold bucket of water dumped over my head, it hit me that the life of ranch ownership would never get easier. And it wasn’t fair to ask Daisy to give up her dreams of having a large family simply because she’d chosen to walk down this rough road beside me.

Pushing off the wall, I ventured closer and dropped to my knees before her. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you, Daze.”

She extended a hand, her fingers brushing my temple as her palm came to rest on my cheek.

“And I love you for that, but we’re never going to break out of survival mode if we keep stretching ourselves so thin it’s a wonder we don’t break.

And adding another baby will do just that.

It wouldn’t be fair to the two children we do have to split our meager resources even further to accommodate a third—or more if it came down to it. ”

A smile touched her lips. “Just because we’re closing this chapter doesn’t mean that, someday, we won’t fill this house with children. But perhaps, instead of half a dozen of our own little ones, it’s a dozen grandbabies instead.”

My eyebrows rose, and I teased, “A dozen, huh? Seems like a tall order for the two kids we have.”

Daisy shrugged. “Maybe so, but it’s just this feeling I have, you know?”

Not really, but I wasn’t about to admit that and make closing the door on her childbearing days any more difficult.

Instead, I gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “If you say there’ll be a dozen, then a dozen there’ll be. ”

I might be the one out there busting my ass from sunup until sundown, but never let it be said that my wife hadn’t made sacrifices of her own along the way. She would have just as much a hand in its success someday.

And I couldn’t help but marvel at her unwavering dedication, not only to me, but to this life I was trying like hell to build for us.

Whether it was luck or fate that brought her into my life, I would be forever grateful.