Page 94 of Here With Me

“Oh, it’s the same image as the paintin’ on Noah’s wall.”

A sharp inhale coming from Noah makes me realize my slip.

“Yeah. How’d ya know that?” Dena asks as she spreads out colored papers and stickers.

Gramma Grace keeps her head down, but I notice the smirk playing on her lips as if she knows something she shouldn’t.

Noah quickly rescues me before I can respond. “He was puttin’ up those No Trespassin’ signs, and I asked him about installin’ a camera outside my house. After Craig showed up at the Twisted Bull and threatened me, I wanted an extra level of security.”

“I was happy to assist and have already ordered them,” I say truthfully. “I found a couple of good spots that’ll cover the front and back of her house.”

“That boy is gonna find himself on the side of a milk carton if I have anythin’ to say about it,” Gramma Grace grumbles.

Noah snorts as I look through the photos—pages and pages of ranch views and some of the family riding horses. I pay attention to each one, soaking in how beautiful the ranch and retreat truly are, and their history.

I hold up a photo of Noah standing bareback on a horse. "How old were ya here?"

She leans over the table and looks. “Eleven, twelve maybe?”

My brows shoot to my hairline. “You were doin’ tricks that young?”

“Oh, that’s nothin’. She was walkin’ right up to wild horses at eight years old.” Dena shakes her head, but her voice has a sense of pride. “It was like she had no sense of danger.”

That’s the adrenaline junkie in her.

“It wasn’t so much astricksas just seein’ what I could get away with,” Noah says, her cheeks tinting a beautiful shade of red. “I didn’t have that fear around animals, so I just pushed the limits the older I got.”

I smile, knowing all too well how that goes. “Either way, I’d say you have a gift.”

Garrett walks in and takes a seat. “The gift of givin’ her parents a heart attack.”

“Not like I’m the only one.” Noah scoffs as she works on a page in her book. I watch as she takes little vintage pieces and glues them around a picture.

“Well, it’s different after havin’ four boys and then finally gettin’ my little girl. I wanted so badly to dress her up, but she wasn’t havin’ it,” Dena says, then offers me a cup of decaf coffee.

“Sure, thank you.” I take it and bring it to my lips.

"You don't allow a girl to get dirty. She'll only wanna do it more." Noah grins.

And now she has me thinking about other ways she gets dirty.

“This family photo is really nice,” I say when I come across a two-page spread covered in pictures with all seven of them.

“That was our fifteen-year anniversary shoot,” Dena explains. “Twins woulda been around twelve or thirteen.”

Which means Noah was six or seven.

There’s one of them standing in front of a barn with the main house off in the distance.

They look like the perfect Southern family.

“Are you okay?” Gramma Grace asks next to me.

I blink and realize I’ve been staring at the same page for a few minutes.

“Yeah, great. I’m just admirin’ your beautiful family.” I flip the page to more horse and ranch views.

“It’s a shame what happened to your daughter. Mariah and Jase were so lost for a long time. I remember seeing them in church every Sunday.” Gramma Grace covers my hand with hers, and I fight with what words to say. She’s trying to comfort me, but unbeknownst to her, she doesn’t know I’m the reason Lyla’s dead. I don’t deserve her sympathy.