Page 6 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

He's wearing his typical outfit of worn jeans, worn boots, and worn hat.

The only thing that ever changes is the color of his short-sleeved Western-style shirts.

Today it's blue and green, and I smile to myself thinking about the fact that nothing about ranch life makes for a fresh dresser.

It's all routines and then sub-routines.

I know life isn't meant to be an adventure every day, but there should be something new every now and again.

"Hey, Leni," he says cautiously as he approaches .

I haven't spoken to him since he moved into the camper. According to my ridiculous ability to stew on the situation, it's been four days and thirteen hours. Sadly, not a record for us, even when we were technically living together.

"Hey," I reply.

"Uh, wondered how you're doing," he says, pulling off his hat and scrubbing at a face that's sporting more of a beard than I've ever seen on him.

I blink, wondering how to answer. The truth is, I'm miserable, but that's also the norm, so maybe I'm doing the same as always?

Or maybe I just tell him I'm fine, because that's become my go-to answer.

Would kicking him in the shins and throwing his hat in the watering trough make my feelings clear?

I shuffle my feet, kicking dirt into my sandals, and squint up at the tree over his head before looking back.

I go with the age-old, "I'm fine." Which screams I'm anything but fine, but the dummy accepts it.

"Good. That's good. So, maybe the kids could come over tonight? Sleep in the trailer with me?" He tucks his free hand into his pocket, and honestly I'm surprised it doesn't tear – that's how worn out those jeans are.

It's the first time he's asked to have time with them, although that doesn't mean he hasn't seen them.

They've bopped over to the camper when he comes home at night, and according to Mason he's sent a few messages on the phone.

Still, it's a gut-punch reminder of the fact we aren't sharing space right now – the fact that this could be our future.

Co-parenting from separate homes was never in the plan, and my heart pinches for the millionth time in the past four days .

I swallow down the ache that never wants to clear, and nod. "Sure. Is there bedding in there for them?"

"Yeah."

"Is there a certain time you want me to send them over?"

I brace myself for what I know will come next. It'll be late, and he won't be feeding them dinner. Sadly, I'm proven right.

He taps his hat against his thigh. "How about nine o'clock? I think I can be there by then."

"Good thing it's summer, eh?" I say, tugging my car door open with more force than necessary.

When he frowns in confusion I huff out a bitter laugh.

"Because during the school year, Josi would long be asleep by nine.

" His expression grows sad, and I'm perversely glad to see it.

He should know that kind of stuff, and he doesn't. "It's fine, Holden.

I'll send them over at nine." I pause and my shoulders drop in weary acceptance.

"And don't worry about waking them up before you go in the morning.

I'll plan to feed them breakfast when they wander over to the cabin. "

His eloquent reply is a nod and then a second nod. Pretty romantic stuff . . . really giving me something to hang on to.

I don't bother saying goodbye. I simply get in my little SUV, start it up, and drive the half-mile to our plot of land.

I turn off the car and put my sweaty hands on my bare thighs as I lean back into the seat.

It's hot today, and I always wear shorts and a tank while I'm helping Rae clean.

My thick hair is pulled up in a ponytail and it doesn't do much to cool me off. Emotional heat isn't helping either.

I'm so angry.

But, I don't get to wallow, because inside that cabin are two sweethearts waiting for their stable parent to arrive.

Mason has swim practice in an hour, and Josi wants to go to the library for the second time this week.

I honestly have no idea if other seven-year-olds are capable of reading like she does.

Maybe I'll get a book for myself too, something to take the edge off and give me a little escape.

Maybe one where the wife gets away with murder.

The back door opens and Jo-Jo pops out, still in her pajamas, enjoying a lazy day of summer.

This pair has her favorite cartoon character on them, and her silky brown hair is ratted.

The kids love the times I'm away cleaning, because it's all TV shows and cereal bowls.

I remember feeling the same sense of freedom when my mom was away as a kid.

Jo-Jo waves at me and her toothless grin has my heart settling. I'm so lucky to be their mama.

I smile as I get out of the car and follow her inside. I'm greeted by the sight of Mason attempting to wipe up some spilled milk and fruity cereal rings. Behind him the TV is blaring at decibels that would make the cattle bawl if they were anywhere near.

"Mama," Josi says, taking my hand. "What happens if I mess with my belly button?"

I look down at her and run my free hand through her hair to detangle it. "What do you mean?"

"If I pick at it too much, will it make my skin fall off?"

Mason stops wiping and screws up his face into a mocking expression like only a sibling can. I notice a wet spot on the basketball jersey he's wearing, most likely from dribbling milk while zoned in on the screen.

"What are you talking about?" he asks her.

"You know how when Grandma Rae sews things she has to tie a knot in the end? Is my belly button the knot? "

It takes me a few minutes to realize that Jo-Jo thinks her belly button is where her skin is all tied together, and when it becomes clear in my mind I start laughing.

Hard. Harder than the situation warrants, for sure.

I swing her up in my arms and bury my face in her sweet little neck and laugh and laugh while Mason does his best to explain to her that a belly button is where a baby gets food from its mother in the womb.

That explanation doesn't go well at all, and only brings on more questions about why she had a tube sticking out of her and if I still have that tube floating around in my guts, which makes me laugh to the point of tears.