Page 19

When they ask where Elsie is, I tell them she’s not feeling her best. It isn’t a lie, but it also isn’t the whole truth, and I don’t miss the look Cooper gives me when I say it. I’m glad he’s looking out for me. He’s coming from a good place, even if I don’t think it’s necessary.

I normally love having dinner at the big house.

We’re all so spread out on the ranch and in town that this is the only time we’re all together.

But I can’t say I’m not grateful when we finish and start heading out.

Bitterly cold air smacks into me like a punch, stealing the breath from my lungs, seeping into every inch of exposed skin.

I don’t notice the way the snow is coming down until we walk out onto the wraparound porch and stare out into the black abyss.

I can’t even make out the driveway. In the couple of hours we were inside, talking and laughing and drinking Dad’s homemade hot cocoa while Cash, Ryder, and Ruby acted out some play they’d made up, snow piled up on the ground, swallowing up our tires and any tracks we left.

The sight of it makes the headache I’ve been fighting all night pound harder, my mind scrambling.

“Shit,” I say, and everyone comes to a stop behind me.

“Well,” Wyatt says in that deep voice of his, unfazed as ever.

Jade must have gotten that from him. The only person who has ever been able to rile her up is Cooper. “Looks like we’re having a sleepover. Clint, I’m sleeping with you.”

Behind him, Dad guffaws, but lead settles in my stomach and a panicky sensation claws up my throat. There’s no way I’m leaving Elsie to wait out a snowstorm alone. I don’t think she even knows how to work the generator if the power goes out. Why the hell did I never show her how to use it?

Because I never thought there would be a time she’d be there without me. God, was I wrong.

“We can probably make it back to our cabins,” Cooper says to Morgan.

They live in cabins on the property, ones similar to the cabin but larger than the cabin I moved into when Elsie asked me to leave, though both are bigger.

“Ruby, you coming with me, or do you want to stay at the big house with your mom and Jesse?”

My six-year-old niece presses a little finger to her chin, thinking.

The sight of it would normally make a smile tug at my lips, but right now, I’m still sorting out how to get home.

Because I’m not going to leave my pregnant wife alone for however long it takes for this storm to end and for the roads to clear.

“If I go with you, can we bring some of Papa’s hot chocolate?” Ruby asks, looking up at her dad with wide brown eyes.

He smiles down at her, softness in all the lines of his face. “Sure, squirt.”

She grins brightly, her light brown hair just as messy as her aunt’s. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

When I look back at Willow, she’s rolling her eyes but smiling, leaning into Jesse for warmth.

Dad claps his hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Well, let’s all head back in and we’ll get rooms sorted. Morgan and Cooper, let us know when you make it back safe.”

Everyone shuffles back into the house, but I snatch the sleeve of Mom’s sweater before she can disappear into the house behind them. Nodding toward the driveway, I say, “I’m going to head home.”

Her expression turns hard, and I know she wants to argue with me.

My mom is not a soft woman, at least not on the outside.

She’s deeply caring and fiercely loyal and endlessly strong, but she has a soft spot for the people she loves.

I’ve never seen her cry, never seen her look anxious, never seen her show any emotion she doesn’t want to.

She’s got hair that’s turned the color of steel, and I’ve secretly thought it matches her perfectly.

Right now, she’s worried, and it looks like her putting her foot down. Normally, I might try to appease her, just like I do with everyone, but I can’t tonight. Not with Elsie just a few miles away, alone.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asks, her gaze never leaving mine.

I nod. “I can’t be stuck here while Elsie is sick.”

She’s studying me now, looking for something. Maybe exhaustion, maybe hesitation. Maybe a reason to tell me to stay. I can tell she wants to protest, but she only nods, resigned. “Be safe, okay? Let us know when you make it back.”

“I will,” I respond. I lean down to kiss her cheek, chilled by the wind, before spinning on my heel to head down the stairs that are now slick with ice.

“Beau?” Mom calls.

I turn around to face her, snowflakes dancing in the wind and catching in my hair. The cold cuts through my jacket, and suddenly, all I want is to be home with Elsie, warming up in front of our fireplace. Exhaustion feels heavy in my bones.

My mom is standing on the porch, her arms crossed against the cold, but she still looks like an immovable pillar. Like she’s a part of the land that grew up in that exact spot. “I’m really happy for you and Elsie,” she says. “Make sure you tell her that.”

I give her a smile. Mom may not let others see what she’s thinking or feeling, but she never fails to notice it about others. She’s observant, diligent, possibly all-knowing. And right now, she sees straight through my excuse that Elsie skipped dinner because she’s not feeling well. “I will.”

Her hands settle on her hips, despite the rush of cold. “And tell her I want her to come next time.”

I push my hands deep into my pockets to ward off the chill. “I want that too, Mom. I’ll see what I can do.”