Page 25 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)

Fifteen

Ford

A fter dinner, the kitchen was loud with clatter and noise, kids underfoot, Walker wrangling the last empty beer bottles, and Eryn scooping up abandoned napkins from the floor.

I tried to help clear the table, but every time I reached for a plate, someone else snatched it first, insisting I just relax and let them do their thing.

Eventually I wound up by the sink with Lily, her hands wrist-deep in soapy water as she washed the last of the wine glasses.

Noah and Abby were already back to their game of Monster Garage, crashing plastic trucks into the leg of the kitchen island and shrieking every time a truck tumbled off the edge.

I watched Lily as she worked, her face soft in the glow of the under-cabinet lights, her hair doing a pretty little wavy thing I decided I liked a whole hell of a lot.

She looked happy. Not just polite-happy, but deep-down, warm-in-your-ribs happy.

I wanted to memorize this version of her: the little smile she got whenever Noah said something wild, the way she hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening, how she sighed peacefully when Noah was playing.

I had only just met her, but it felt like I knew her.

Maybe a part of me did. That part of me that I’d kept hidden my whole life; the one that comes back in flashbacks and nightmares.

I didn’t want to presume, and no one really talked about it, but I could tell she’d had a rough go of it before.

I wanted to ask her about it, to let her know she could open up to me.

But I didn’t want to scare her off when we were only just beginning this . . . whatever this was.

“Hey, Ford?” Eryn sidled up behind me, arms full of dessert plates. She lowered her voice, eyes twinkling with some kind of mischief. “I have an idea.”

“Shoot,” I said, figuring she wanted to rope me into distracting Gray with something.

She looked at Lily, then back to me. “I know you practically grew up here with the boys, but so much has changed since y’all were kids.

You should go check out the new stables out front.

They’re Gray’s pride and joy. In fact, Lily’s never really seen them either.

Why don’t you walk her down there and take a little tour? I think you’d both really like it.”

I could hear the capitalization on ‘both.’ We had a little matchmaker on our hands, but it got me alone time with Lily, so I wasn’t about to complain.

“Sounds good,” I said, probably too fast.

Lily looked up from the sink. “Is it okay if Noah comes, or . . . ?”

“I’ve got Noah covered!” Eryn called, also too fast, swooping over to collect the kids like a pro. “We’re going to make ice cream sundaes and watch cartoons. You go, have fun. Take your time.” She gave Lily’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then steered Noah and Abby toward the living room.

Lily dried her hands, mouth curving up in something I recognized as equal parts excitement and terror.

“Is she always like that?” I asked.

“Always,” she said with a laugh. “She’s basically a tornado in a model’s body.”

Lily followed me out the front door, where the ranch drive was well-lit by pole lights.

The night was cool, even for Montana, the kind of cool that tasted like early snow.

The moon hung low and swollen above the tree line, and the world outside the house was a peaceful reprieve from the chaos inside.

We walked in silence at first, boots crunching over the gravel, the porch light throwing long shadows behind us. The stables were maybe three hundred yards from the house, but the air out here was different—sharper, and full of the smell of cut grass and horses and hay.

The new building rose up out of the dark, bigger than I realized, as it went back three times as far as it was wide.

Its red siding was already weathered by brutal winters.

The paint was peeling in places, but the roof was fresh and the doors were hung perfectly square—a far cry from the lopsided barn I grew up with.

I wondered if Gray had hired someone to build it, or if he and Walker and Mason had done it themselves, one late night after another, the way we used to fix everything else.

I held the door open for Lily. Inside, the overhead lights came on with a heavy thunk, bathing the aisle in yellow.

It was empty except for the horses in their stalls, most of them already drowsing, a few with heads poking out to see who’d come to visit.

Their eyes reflected the light in greenish sparks.

Lily ran her hand along the wall, fingers trailing the new wood. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Cost a fortune, I bet, but worth it,” I said.

“Walker runs his therapy stuff out of here now. Equestrian programs for local kids, people recovering from injury or mental health challenges. I think he likes horses better than people sometimes.” Lily said with a laugh.

She stopped at the first stall and reached over to pet the nose of a brown mare, who snorted and immediately started rooting for snacks.

“I always wanted to learn to ride,” Lily said, not looking at me. “We never had money for riding lessons when I was growing up. And my ex was afraid of horses, so I was never allowed . . .” Her voice trailed off, as if she wanted to take that last part back.

“Still time,” I said, and I meant it. “I could teach you.”

She smiled at that, really smiled, and for a second it was easy to forget the world beyond this aisle.

“Now that Gray and me are talkin’ again, maybe he’ll sell me some.”

“Really?”

“Hell, Chickadee needs some life in her again. Might as well start with some horses in the stable.”

She considered that and nodded with a smile.

We walked the length of the stable, pausing at each stall to greet the horses. Their names were written on little plaques next to each stall door. We laughed at some of the names, like Nugget and Pookie.

We reached the last stall, where a gray mare was still up, ears pricked forward.

“This one is Athena,” I said, reading the name aloud.

Lily reached for the mare, palm out, and Athena nuzzled her wrist, leaving a smear of hay-scented drool behind. Lily laughed, and the sound bounced off the rafters.

“She likes you,” I said.

“Doesn’t everyone?” she said, but the sarcasm was soft. “She’s beautiful.”

We stood there for a minute, both of us quiet.

I wanted to say something, to fill the space, but the words jammed up in my throat.

Maybe it was the way her hair caught the light, or the gentle patience in her face, or the smell of the horses and hay, but I felt more exposed in that moment than I had in years.

Finally, Lily broke the silence. “So you miss it?”

“What?” I said, though I knew exactly what she meant.

“Ranching. Working with animals, being outside all day.”

I rested my forearms on the stall door. “Every damn day.”

She leaned next to me, shoulder to shoulder, both of us looking out over Athena’s ears. “So why did you leave?” Her voice was small, like she expected me to push back.

I shrugged, but I could feel her watching me.

“My dad was a bastard,” I said, voice flat.

“That’s the short story. I know you’ve heard rumors.

I know I owe you the long story, but it’s .

. . complicated.” That sounded like a cop out to my own eats, but it was true.

How the hell could I explain why I left when I didn’t even know what actually happened that night?

“I was scared. My dad told me to run. So I ran. Took a bus to San Fransisco, and fell back on my IT skills. Got a job at a start-up and worked my way up.”

She nodded, like this made sense. Nothing about any of my past made much sense.

“What about you?” I asked. “Is baking your dream, or just a talent you’re blessed with?”

She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. “I always liked baking. As a kid, I would make cornbread and pies with my mom. But I thought I’d write, or teach, or do something that didn’t involve making bread at four in the morning.”

“You’d be good at it, the writing or teaching,” I said, and it wasn’t just a line.

She smiled at the compliment, but her eyes stayed sad. “It didn’t work out that way. I got married right after high school. Moved to a double-wide on the edge of town. At first it was fun, being a grown up, but . . .” She trailed off, fingers tightening on the edge of the stall.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said, but she shook her head.

“It’s okay,” she said, voice stronger. “You can guess the rest. It’s not a town secret, anyway. He was nice until he wasn’t. Then he was awful.

Then there was Noah, and after that it was just about surviving, keeping my head down. I knew I couldn’t bring Noah up around that kind of man. I think he sensed it, too, because Noah’s first birthday was when Jim started getting worse. More violent. More open about it.”

I wanted to find this Jim and curb stomp his skull. But I kept my cool so I didn’t frighten Lily.

“He see Noah much?”

“No, thank god. He’s in prison. Noah doesn’t remember anything about him and I love that.”

A sense of relief washed over me, and I realized just how much I was falling for this woman and her little boy. I needed to know they were safe. Needed to be the one to keep them safe.

“You’re so strong, Lil.”

She smiled, but ducked her head. “I didn’t do it on my own.”

There was a long pause, heavy but comfortable.

She looked down at the floor, then up at me. “Do you ever think about what it would be like, if you’d stayed?”

“Not until I saw you,” I said, and it was the truth.

She let out a shaky breath, and I realized how close we were now—only a few inches between us, both leaning against the stall, side by side in the yellow light.

The rest of the world faded. It was just the two of us, and Athena snorting in the background.