Page 37 of Sweet Escape (Whispering Oaks Ranch #1)

Missing Pieces

? Love is a Cowboy - Kelsea Ballerini

Olivia

“Hi, Livie. It’s Mom. I was hoping you could come over today so we can talk. I have a lot of things I want to say. I miss you. Call me.”

I replay the voicemail for the third time,fighting the intense need to rush over to Mom’s house. There’s still an undercurrent of hurt and disappointment I haven’t been able to shake.

“Go. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”Wilder stands against the doorframe.

I glance over at him. “How long have you been listening?”

He steps away from the wall and sinks onto the sofa beside me, turning so his body is facing mine. “Long enough to know you need to go see your mom and hear what she has to say. You don’t have to forgive her, but you owe it to yourself to try. ”

“What if they can’t accept this?”

“Then you come back home to our family, and we move forward. For what it’s worth, she sounds like a woman who’s grieving.”

There's a far-off look in his eye, and I know he’s thinking about Jess. About loving her and losing her. That expression crushes me every time, not because I’m jealous of her, but because it hurts me to see him so tormented.

I can’t even begin to know the depths of his pain, but it’s etched in every line and feature of his face—in the crinkle of his brow and the frown lines around his eyes. This man knows real pain, and if I could take every stitch of it away, I would.

“Ok. I’ll go.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No. I need to do this on my own.”

“Ok.” He pulls me against him and kisses my forehead, the move so familiar it no longer catches me by surprise. “If you need me, all you have to do is call and I’ll be there, ok?”

I nod. “Ok.”

I find my mom exactly where I knew she would be—in the garden, elbow deep in topsoil. “Hey, Mom.”

Her spine goes ramrod straight, and she pulls off her muddy gloves. “Hi, Livie.”

Not meeting my gaze, she gestures for me to follow her to the twin rocking chairs on the porch.

She looks the same as always in her grass-stained overalls and her favorite straw hat, her grey hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

It’s a reminder of who she is and what she’s always been to me, and it gives me the courage to speak first .

“Why didn’t you support me?”

She sighs, her posture deflating. “I don’t know. Truly. I wasn’t the mom you needed that day, and I regret it more than you’ll ever know.”

“Then why didn’t you call sooner?” This is the longest we’ve ever gone without speaking, and not for lack of trying on my part. I’m not even mad about what happened anymore. I’m angry because I feel ignored and rejected by the family who’s supposed to love and support me.

“At first it was because I was hurt by what you said,” she says, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. “But then I realized how wrong I’d been, too, and I wasn’t ready to face you. As for your dad… well, I’ll let him speak for himself. I’m sorry, Livie. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

My jaw clenches, and I shake my head. “But you did, Mom. Did you ever even ask about me?”

She looks at me then, and her eyes are filled with anguish. “All the time, Liv. Grammy gave us updates about the pregnancy when she could. She tried to get us to reach out sooner. Please don’t blame her.”

“I would never. Grammy has always been there for me, which is more than I can say for you and Daddy right now.”

She nods jerkily. “You’re right. I deserve that.”

I twist the ring on my finger once, then twice. “Why don’t we ever talk about Ben?”

Her chin wobbles and her brows draw together, deepening the lines on her forehead. She looks more worn down than I’ve ever seen her, and it’s clear the last two months have taken a toll.

“It’s hard,” she murmurs, her voice filled with a quiet sorrow.

“Grief is an ongoing journey. It doesn’t just disappear over time.

Sure, it eases some, but it still manifests in different ways.

It can often creep up on you when you least expect it.

I think about him every day, but it’s easier to keep it all inside than to let it out and face the reality that he’s gone, and he was never really here. ”

It’s the most she’s ever talked about what happened, and I feel like I’m able to connect with her on a deeper level as a daughter, but also as a mother. I long to know more, to learn everything I can from her experiences.

“Did you want to have more kids?” I ask.

“No. I loved you plenty, and I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening if we tried again.”

A solemn quiet settles between us as we stare out at the land I grew up on: the neat rows of flowers and the treehouse by the barn. So many fond memories live here, and I don’t want my child to miss out because I couldn’t make amends with my family.

Mom places her hand over mine, sensing my inner turmoil. “What’s on your mind, Liv?”

I consider her question, wondering how much I want to tell her. Mom’s always been my sounding board. “Wilder lost his wife. I see the misery in his eyes when he thinks I’m not looking, and I don’t know how to help him.”

“There isn’t anything I can tell you about loss that’ll make you fully understand what it does to a person.

There aren’t really any words to describe what it’s like when a piece of your heart is just…

gone. I wanted to scream and cry until he came back to me, and when I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I wanted to follow him. ”

I suck in a sharp breath, her words settling like a stone in the pit of my stomach.

She continues. “But that wouldn’t have done anybody any good.

I still had you and your daddy. I couldn’t perpetuate the cycle of grief by taking from you what was taken from me.

And whatever happens after this life, I believe I would’ve been left grieving you instead.

It’s like being stuck in limbo with part of my h eart here and part of my heart wherever Ben is.

I imagine Wilder feels much the same way. ”

I drop to my knees and crawl across the floorboards to lay my head in my mother’s lap, tears soaking her overalls. “Mom. I’m so sorry.”

She plays with my hair the way she did when I was a kid, and it still soothes me after all this time.

“It’s okay, Liv. I’ve had thirty years to wonder about Ben, to picture what he’d be like now.

I think a part of me grieved for him all over again when you told us about your pregnancy, and it was unfair of me to put that on you.

” She releases a deep sigh. “How are you, sweet girl? Are you ready for this next big adventure?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. I could really use my mom, though.”

“I’m here,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

I pull her into a hug and inhale her familiar vanilla perfume, the same one I used to borrow in middle school.

I wanted so badly to be just like her when I grew up, and I am a lot like my mom in many ways.

It’s why we butt heads so often. “It’s okay, Mom.

I understand. The important thing is you’re here now. ”

“Your daddy just needs a little more time, I think. His reasons are different from mine. He’ll have to come to terms with the past and move on from what he sees as a betrayal. I’ll help him get there. I promise. He loves you.”

“I know. I never doubted that.”

I tug open Wilder’s dresser, searching for one of his ratty ranch tees I love to wear around the house. The conversation with my mom is still heavy on my mind, and I need the comfort of f amiliarity. Maybe it has a little to do with Wilder, too.

Near the bottom of the pile, I find my favorite brown shirt with the holes near the neckline and the faded Whispering Oaks logo. When I pull it out, a photograph cascades to the floor, landing face down on the plush cream rug. I toss the shirt over my head, then bend to pick it up.

It’s well-loved, with various dents and folds along the back of the print, like someone’s taken it out to look at it often. I flip it over, and the air whooshes from my lungs as I look into those piercing blue eyes, identical to Emmy’s.

Jess was stunning, with long auburn hair braided over her shoulder, and a beautiful smile that leaps off the page, no doubt brightening every room she ever entered.

She’s wearing blue scrubs with an ID tag clipped to her chest, her baby bump straining against the fabric.

The way Wilder looks at her has me swallowing hard as the reality of our situation comes surging back.

Love is radiating off him, as if she’s his sun and he exists to revolve around her.

It’s a harsh reminder of what we’ll never be.

I tuck the photo back in the drawer, sliding it closed seconds before Wilder steps into the room. “Liv? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing. You’re crying.

” Sure enough, a tear I hadn’t noticed lands on my chest, leaving a wet spot on Wilder’s shirt.

He steps into my space, cradling my face between his palms. The tender gesture that would normally soothe me now feels inherently wrong. “Talk to me,” he murmurs.

I can’t, so I lie. “Pregnancy hormones.” Seeking some kind of connection, however fleeting, I close the distance, leaning my forehead against his chest. His arms come around my back, holding me there, one hand cradling my head .

I find the courage to ask, “Why don’t you have any photos of Jess around the house?”

He inhales a prolonged breath, ruffling my hair on the exhale before he speaks.

“At first it was the guilt,” he says, his voice low and rich, filled with so much pent-up emotion.

“Then it was Emmy. I’ve never really talked about her mom much.

She’s so little, I wouldn’t even know what to say.

I know she’ll ask about Jess someday, but I’m not—I haven’t—been ready. ”