Page 22 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

Holden answers quickly. "You don't have to if you don't want to. Mama thought you'd like a little extra money."

"I know. It's honestly sweet of her to pay me anything at all.

Families pull together, and I'd have done it without the pay.

It was so helpful to be able to bring Jo-Jo along when she was a baby, and it made it possible for me to be close to your mom.

But, I'm ready to move on." I pause. "Which is hard, especially when you said the other day that she wants to expand into weddings.

I can't quit on her and do my own thing.

Besides, it's not like I'm helping on the ranch like everyone else does.

The B&B is kind of the only way I'm allowed to pitch in. "

Holden makes a sound that tells me he's thinking on it. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you all run off and do ranch work and I stay with the kids and clean the rented rooms."

I'm sort of annoyed that he had to ask. It's obvious, right?

"I didn't know you wanted to help on the ranch," he responds, and I shrug in my little cocoon.

"It's not that as much as I'm the odd one out, and this helped me to feel part of things, I guess."

"Even though you don't enjoy it."

"Yeah. It's twisted, I know."

"Mama could hire someone else, you know. It doesn't have to automatically be you if you don't want it to be," he responds .

His words are sweet, but I'm not sure it's true.

Rae depends on me, and I always live up to people's expectations.

"It's nice of you to say it, but it's another thing to do it.

A yoga studio business would take me away from the kids regardless of how well I try to schedule things, and they need a parent around," I say.

"I'm a parent," he responds, and I really don't want to make it a thing so I hum a little sound. He puffs out a breath. "A parent they can rely on to be available, you mean," he mutters, and I can hear the self-deprecation in his words.

"I wasn't pointing fingers," I reply.

"You don't have to. I get it. You've sacrificed your dream and made do cleaning with my mama because I wasn't available to support your endeavors and you felt the kids needed a parent more than you needed self-fulfillment."

Oof. How come, after months of wishing he'd get it, when he does get it, it stings to hear? Like, I actually feel bad listening to the defeat in his tone. Before I can tell him it's no big deal—basically lie again—he continues talking.

"We got married so young that I don't think we had an inkling of what things to talk about beforehand.

It didn't occur to me to actually ask if you wanted to live on the ranch.

I didn't think to ask what your dreams were because I was too scared about making any sort of a living.

I didn't have time for dreaming when I had to get to work to simply live.

" I hear him shift in the hammock, but I keep my eyes up, desperate for him to continue.

"I couldn't stand the thought of failing.

All those people—our parents included—who told us to wait, that we were too young, that we'd regret it.

I couldn't face them all and tell them they were right, that we weren't strong enough for the demands of marriage and parenthood. "

I remember those voices and the way it made me more determined to succeed.

He continues, "And then, we're pregnant with Mason before we're even a year into our marriage.

Both of us still nineteen, and the looks and whispers became pitying—like they were waiting for us to fall apart.

I chose to work myself to the point of collapse in order to prove that I was a man who could care for his wife and children.

I found pride in providing for you and the kids.

I knew those people who'd doubted us would see you in your good clothes, shopping for meals, signing our kids up for activities, and they'd have to say they were wrong.

That I did it. We did it. We weren't a statistic.

And if I didn't get back in time for dinner, or had to sleep on the ground near the herd, it was okay, because you three were warm and fed and loved in that cabin. I . . ."

His voice seems to waver and he stops talking abruptly. I wonder if he was close to getting emotional, which is something Holden has very rarely been. Only at the births of our children, really.

I step in to save him, this man who just opened his heart to me in a way that hasn't happened for a long time. "Thank you for telling me all of that."

"I'm sorry I stopped talking to you," he replies, equally quiet. "I don't know why I did."

"I think you were tired, Holden. Bone-deep tired," I say sympathetically. "You were under a lot of pressure, and you did things the best you knew how."

The words aren't trite. I mean them. I wish I'd known that was the motivation behind his work ethic, but I'm glad to know now.

"I'm sorry you sacrificed so much while I was away. You raised our kids practically alone," he adds .

"We both made sacrifices," I assure him.

"Yours were bigger," he whispers.

But I'm no longer sure that's true. I'm starting to think Holden is the prizewinner of this competition.