Page 15

The horse is scared. And hesitant. I don’t blame her.

We rescued her from an abusive home two days ago, so I know I have to be gentle with her.

Yesterday, I didn’t even attempt to touch her, simply stood near her stall and let her come to me.

It was slow going. She flinched and kept her ears pinned back, but I stayed where I was, letting her know I wasn’t going anywhere and that I was safe.

It took twenty minutes for her to finally come close enough to sniff me, and I considered that a win.

Today, I let myself into the stables and approach her stall slowly, just like I did yesterday. “Hey, Sugar.” The American Quarter horse was presumably named for her gray-white coat, but I think it fits her personality too. She’s scared now, but I have a feeling she’s going to be a sweetheart.

She looks at me, her ears pinning back. “Hey, good girl,” I say softly, keeping my voice low.

“How’d you sleep? I slept okay.” Looking around the stables to make sure I’m the only one here, I turn back to Sugar and say, “I saw my baby yesterday. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I saw that heartbeat. ”

My quiet words seem to do the trick, soothing her, just as they’re doing for me.

I didn’t want Elsie to know how nervous I was pulling up to that doctor’s office, not when I knew how anxious she was.

Or I thought I did. Seeing her collapsed on the ground in front of my truck almost did me in.

I’ve never seen her like that before, and I have to wonder if it was the first time that’s happened.

Something tells me it wasn’t, and I don’t know what to do about that.

Sugar takes a step forward, and I slowly extend my hand, palm up, in her direction, offering it to her to sniff.

She does, her spotted black nose nuzzling against the calloused palm of my hand.

I’ve worked with hundreds of horses over the years, many of them injured or abused or difficult to manage, and I’ll never get over the feeling when they willingly come to me, trusting me for the first time.

“I don’t know if I have what it takes to be a good dad,” I say to Sugar, keeping my voice soft and calm. “My dad is the best dad in the entire world, and I have to think that he taught me something, but I couldn’t take care of Elsie the way she needed me to.”

Gently, I move my hand to smooth down her nose. When she flinches, I pause, and I wait for some of the tension to leave her body before continuing. Her coat is soft, and I can feel the warmth of her skin beneath my chilled hands.

“I just want to do a good job,” I tell her. “For both of them.”

I spend a few more minutes smoothing my hand over her nose before moving on to her neck, pausing any time she seems skittish.

But the longer I pet her, the more she seems to relax.

Horses are like people most of the time.

They’re slow to trust, especially if they’ve been hurt in the past. They need to be reassured over and over again that the people in their life are safe.

It’s hard to do, especially since I mostly work with horses that have been abused or have difficult temperaments.

But that only makes it more rewarding when they finally trust you completely.

Usually, the ones that take the longest to warm up are the ones I end up having the deepest connection with.

“I’ve got to go, Sugar,” I say. “But I’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe then we can try a harness. I bet you’d like some time outside, huh?”

I let my hand trail down her neck one last time before backing up slowly so I don’t spook her.

She watches me with wary eyes, but she looks less spooked than when I came in a few minutes ago.

On the first few days of training a horse that’s been abused, I keep our sessions short so they don’t get overwhelmed, increasing the time by small increments each day.

It’s not until I back out of her line of vision that I see him there—Cooper.

He’s leaning against the wall a few stalls down, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His deep brown hair is much longer than mine, pushed back from his face below a backward baseball cap that he’ll likely switch out for a cowboy hat before heading out on the ranch today.

I’m annoyed to see we’re wearing the same red flannel shirt.

He arches one dark brow, and I let out a sigh, knowing he heard me talking to Sugar.

Pushing a hand through my hair, I ask, “How much did you hear?”

“So it went well, then? I wouldn’t know, since you were ignoring my texts.”

I wince and move past him into the tack room, knowing he’s following closely on my heels.

I hadn’t meant to ignore him, but yesterday was overwhelming in so many ways.

I needed to decompress after watching Elsie having a panic attack, seeing our baby’s heartbeat, and unexpectedly kissing my wife—the wife who still hasn’t told me she wants me back.

“I told you everything was fine.”

He rolls his eyes. “And then answered none of my follow-up questions.”

He sent approximately a thousand, and I just couldn’t deal with them. Instead, I lay awake in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to process all the changes that’ve taken place over the last few weeks. I finally gave up around four and came to the ranch early.

“We saw the heartbeat,” I tell him.

A smile lights up his face. “The best feeling,” he says. I could never forget that my brother is a father, but I think I had forgotten that he’s been through this before.

I rub my palms down my thighs, wiping off the dust clinging to them. I can’t help but let a small smile lift my lips too. “Yeah, it really was. I’m going to tell the family at dinner tonight.”

His brows lift. “Is Elsie going to come?”

I shrug, but his words pierce me. No part of me wants to tell my family this news without Elsie, but I don’t think I can convince her to go.

When I mentioned the idea over the weekend, she said she didn’t think it was a good idea, but when I asked her why, she changed the subject.

I didn’t push because right now, conversation with her feels like dealing with Sugar.

I have to go slow and steady and not do anything to startle her.

Cooper nods, but I can tell he’s not pleased. I want to tell him he doesn’t know everything, that I don’t know everything, that Elsie is perhaps much more fragile than I anticipated, but before I can, he asks, “Are you going to tell Morgan first?”

I palm the back of my neck, thinking. “I probably should.”

Morgan is as much a part of our family as any of the rest of us and has become a good friend to Cooper and me. As close as another brother. He’s also a single dad to two little boys, so he also knows what I’m going through.

Cooper smirks. “What about Cheyenne?”

“Oh God,” I groan. I can only imagine the things Cheyenne will have to say. I think I’d rather rip the Band-Aid off and tell her with the rest of the family, even though she will probably skin me alive for it. “I don’t think so.”

He laughs, the sound filling the cold air of the stables. “Good idea.”

Before I can respond, the big barn door slides open and a familiar voice yells, “ Cooper Jennings , are you in here? When we have an appointment at seven in the morning, I expect you to be there at seven.”

Cooper rolls his eyes and looks down at his watch. “It’s seven forty-two, Jade,” he calls back.

A minute later, she appears in the doorway to the tack room. “I said I expect you to be there on time. I didn’t say anything about me.”

“You exhaust me,” he responds.

“Just show me which cow I need to shove my hand into before it ends up somewhere else,” she says with a pointed look.

“Well, that’s my cue,” I say, clapping my hands. “Don’t kill each other.”

“No promises,” Jade says, smiling at me with saccharine sweetness.

“Well, spare the animals.”

She responds immediately, eyes serious. “Of course.”

I look between the two of them, my gaze landing on my brother. “Do whatever you need to with Coop.”

“Fuck you,” he says.

Jade lifts a brow. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Cooper smirks, one side of his mouth tipping higher than the other and his dimples carving out little divots in his cheeks. When we were small, those dimples were the only way most people could tell us apart—he has them, I don’t. “Not her, but I could let you have a turn if you ask nicely.”

“You know those statues that people touch over and over for centuries? The ones where the part they touch—a toe or a nose or a hand—rubs off completely?” she asks.

“Mm-hmm,” Cooper says.

Jade gives him a charming smile. “I assume that’s what’s happened to your penis.”

His grin broadens. “I’m sure you’d like to find out, wouldn’t you?”

“I could throw a rock in any direction in Larkspur and ask the first person it hits, and they’d be able to give me an answer.”

Cooper leans in her direction, and I wonder if either of them notices how close they’ve gotten. “Careful, Jade, you’re starting to sound jealous.”

“Careful, Cooper, you’re starting to sound delusional.”

“You guys want to see an ultrasound photo?” I ask, interrupting them, and both heads swivel in my direction, looking like they’d forgotten I was here.

“You have one?” Jade practically squeals, bounding for me.

I nod, pulling the already worn sonogram from my back pocket. I’ve already stared at it a hundred times, running my thumb over the little speck that is our baby.

The three of us look down at the photos in awe. We never got a sonogram of our first baby, and I hadn’t realized how much I wanted one. It makes this photo special for many reasons.

“Can I hold it?” Jade asks, her emerald eyes connecting with mine.

I hand it to her, watching as she examines the photo, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s perfect.”

There’s a lump in my throat, making it hard to speak, so I just nod.

“It looks like you,” Cooper says, and it snaps the band of tension.

A laugh rumbles out of me despite my best effort, and I roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

“Poor kid,” he says.

Jade looks at him over her shoulder. “You two have the same face.”

“I’m much better looking than he is,” Cooper responds.

“Humble too,” I say.

He grins at me. “Yes, that too.”

I take the sonogram from Jade and pocket it again, ignoring the urge to stare at it longer. “I really should get back to work. Dad’s bound to come looking for us soon, and it won’t be good if he finds us.”

“Clint wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Jade says.

“No,” Cooper says, “he wouldn’t. He would just start yapping and we’d never get anything done.”

“True,” she replies, and then turns to face me. “Are you and Elsie going to tell everyone at dinner tonight?”

Monday nights are Jennings family dinner nights at the big house and have been happening weekly since long before Cooper and I were born.

It’s not just Jenningses who are invited, though.

There’s an open invitation extended to the family we’ve created over the years—Jade and her mom, who was our vet before her, and her father included.

But since the separation, there’s been one noticeable absence. Elsie.

I shift on my feet. “I am, but I don’t think Elsie is ready to go yet.”

“Well,” Jade says, wiping her hands on her jeans. “If that’s what she wants, then that’s what we’re going to make happen.”

Behind her, Cooper makes a noise under his breath, and Jade and I fix him with hard stares again.

“What’s that sound supposed to mean?” she asks before I get a chance.

He doesn’t back away from the anger in her eyes. “Why are we always doing what Elsie wants? What about Beau? You think he wants to tell his family he’s going to be a dad all alone? They did this together, they should face it together.”

“Cooper,” I say, voice weary. “It’s fine. Leave it.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment, and I think he’s not going to say anything else, but he does.

His words are low and even. “I just think that everyone has been focused on protecting Elsie for a long time, and that’s fair.

But someone needs to protect you too. And if it makes me the bad guy for doing that, then fine. ”

I shove my hands into my pockets, unsure of how to respond. Part of me feels grateful. The other part wants to tell him that we’re all trying to take care of Elsie because she’s the one who needs it. More than any of us really know.

But maybe he’s right. Maybe I need it too.