Page 15 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

I Hope You Dance – Karen Waldrup

Nash

W hen we got back to the ranch, Bertie skipped inside ahead of me, already excited to tell Gunner and Wilder all about her day. I was less enthusiastic, dragging my boots like they were made of lead.

Gunner caught my expression first. He tossed an apple in the air, one eyebrow raised. “You look like someone just told you Christmas is canceled.”

Wilder leaned against the counter; arms crossed. “Or like he found out Bertie’s new teacher is the girl who broke his heart.”

“Shut it,” I growled, yanking open the fridge with more force than necessary. “And how did you know?”

“Had to send a parcel earlier.” That was enough of an explanation. Our post office was a hive of town gossip

Gunner whistled low under his breath. “So, it’s true then.”

“She’s not just my teacher,” Bertie chirped from the table, swinging her legs. “She’s the best teacher ever!”

Wilder barked out a laugh. “Ouch, Nash. Sounds like you’re stuck.”

“She’s just doing her job,” I muttered, grabbing a bottle of water I didn’t even want.

Gunner bumped my shoulder with his. “And you’re just acting like you don't still want her to climb you like a tree.”

“Keep talking and I’ll feed you to the cattle,” I muttered darkly, but they both only grinned wider.

Bertie, oblivious to the tension crackling around me, added the final blow. “Miss. Gray smells nice, too.”

I practically choked on the water.

Wilder slapped his knee. “Man, you’re screwed.”

“No.” I set the bottle down with a thud. “I’m focused on Bertie. That’s it. Lily Jones, Gray whatever her name is, being back in town doesn’t mean anything.”

They exchanged a look that said they didn’t believe a word.

I wasn’t even sure I did either.

"So, Miss. Gray is Lily?" Gunner asked, eyebrows climbing.

"Yep," I said, stirring the casserole like it personally offended me.

"Shit."

"Dinner’s in thirty minutes," I grunted. "Wilder in his room?"

"Yeah. Bertie's watching TV." Gunner folded his arms, leaning against the counter. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Is your husband out of town too?" I deadpanned.

"What?"

"Monica offered me a friendly ear. And dinner."

"Gross." Gunner laughed, then sobered. "You had no idea Miss. Gray was Lily?"

"Nope. Bertie just called her Miss. Gray. I didn’t connect the dots."

Gunner’s mouth twisted. "And the name change?"

I stiffened.

Hadn’t let myself think about it until right now.

Only one reason why she wouldn’t be Jones anymore.

The realization hit like a baseball bat to the gut.

"She’s married," I said hoarsely.

Gunner just sat there, letting it land.

"I don’t even know why I care," I muttered.

"Maybe you let her go," he said. "But did you ever let yourself go?"

"What does that even mean?"

"Fuck if I know," he chuckled. "Saw it on a fridge magnet."

"Asshole," I said, but I smiled.

"You care, Nash. That’s all I’m saying."

I scrubbed a hand over my face.

Yeah. I cared. I hated that I cared. And some godawful part of me was still glad she was back.

"If you want my advice," Gunner said, leaning forward, "and it's sound advice.”

"God help me," I muttered.

"We go out Friday night, get drunk, and you hook up with the first woman who looks at you like you’re a steak dinner."

"That’s your grand plan?"

"Yep."

"Jesus Christ."

He grinned. "We’ll bring Wilder. Kid’ll probably needs to teach us how to flirt again."

Despite everything, I laughed.

Maybe getting drunk wasn't the worst idea. Because if I didn’t do something, the ghost of Lily Jones was going to ruin me all over again. At that moment, though, I needed some fresh air.

“I’m going to check on something in the stables,” I told Gunner.

“Now?”.

“Yep.” Swallowing back frustration, I wiped my hand on a dish towel. “Won’t be long.” I had no need ever to go to the stables at night. Gunner knew that.

“I’ll keep an eye on Bertie and dinner, shall I?”

“Yep,” I snapped and strode out of the house

I shoved open the stable door with more force than necessary, sending a loud creak echoing through the rafters. The smell of hay and leather wrapped around me, grounding me the way it always had. Still, it did little to settle the storm raging inside my chest.

Lily. Lily was here. Not just back in town. Not just some rumor or memory. She was real. Close enough to touch. And still somehow so damn far away.

I leaned my forearm against one of the beams and dropped my head, letting the rough wood bite into my skin. I hadn’t even realized how much I'd hoped, how much I'd dreamed that if I ever saw her again, it would be different. That time and distance would have erased the hurt.

But seeing her today, all soft smiles and gentle words aimed at my daughter, had split me wide open.

She still looked like my forever. And God help me, I still wanted her like a dying man wanted his next breath.

Bertie’s laugh echoed from the house, carried on the warm breeze, and I closed my eyes, swallowing down the ache clawing up my throat. She deserved this chance, deserved a teacher who cared, who would nurture her and believe in her brilliance. I wasn’t stupid. I knew Lily would be good for her.

But could I survive it? Could I really stand by and watch Lily build a new life here that didn’t include me?

The idea hollowed me out from the inside.

A soft snort sounded from the next stall, and I turned to find Peanut, Gunner’s horse, sticking his head over the gate, regarding me with lazy curiosity. I dragged a hand over his nose, feeling the warmth of him, the solid, steady beat of life under my palm.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, buddy,” I muttered. “Feels like I’m right back at square one.”

Square one, where she was the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins, and losing her had felt like the kind of wound a man didn't recover from.

Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time, if I was brave enough to risk it, we could finally get it right.

I looked toward the house, where the windows glowed warm against the gathering dusk. Bertie was in there. My brothers were in there. My family. My future.

And maybe, just maybe, Lily was meant to be part of it after all.

But how could she be when there was still a lie between us. When I didn’t know I could ever forgive her for breaking my heart.

What I did know was tonight I’d thought about her enough. I needed to push her from my mind and spend my time with the one girl who loved me unconditionally.

Tucking Bertie in usually took ten minutes, tops. Kiss on the forehead, a story if she hadn’t worn herself out, lights out, job done. Tonight? Tonight, she was wriggling like a landed fish, arms waving around, face lit up with excitement.

"Daddy, did you enjoy it at school today?" she whispered, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"I did," I said, smoothing a stray hair off her forehead.

"You did look like you were pretty happy about it." Bertie’s whole body wiggled under the covers. "And when I drew a sunflower Miss. Gray said it was beautiful. She said my ideas were beautiful."

I chuckled under my breath. "You do have some pretty beautiful ideas, kiddo."

Bertie beamed, then tilted her head thoughtfully. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, Munchkin?"

"Did you like Miss. Gray?" Her voice was small, uncertain.

I hesitated. How did I explain feelings like I had to an eight-year-old? I sat on the edge of her bed, brushing my knuckles gently over her cheek. "She’s a great teacher."

"Did you know her? Before me?" Her expression was inquisitive, pondering. “It looked like you did.”

"Actually, yeah, a long time ago," I said, smiling.

She nodded seriously, then whispered, "You looked at her funny."

My heart did a slow, painful roll. "What do you mean, funny?"

"Like..." Bertie scrunched up her nose. "Like when you look at the sunset and you forget you were mad 'cause I spilled my juice."

That pulled a laugh out of me, low and surprised. Smart kid.

"Okay," I said slowly, "Maybe I was thinking of the sunset at the time."

“Or maybe she reminded you of it.” Bertie grinned. "And she smells good too. Like the lavender on Uncle Shane's farm."

Lavender.

The word filled my chest, a rush of bittersweet heat.

"Yeah, Munchkin," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "She smells just like that."

Bertie's eyelids fluttered closed, content. "Maybe you can be friends again."

Maybe. Maybe we could be more than friends. Maybe if I could get past the damn wall that had built itself inside me the day she left.

"Sleep tight, sunshine," I murmured against her hair.

She yawned, already half asleep. "Night, Daddy. Night, Miss. Gray," she added dreamily, like Lily was already part of our family again.

I sat there for a long time after she drifted off, staring at the moonlight slanting through her window. At the tiny, perfect girl who deserved every good thing in the world. At the hope she’d inadvertently planted in her heart, and possibly mine.

Maybe, just maybe, the past wasn’t as far gone as I thought. And maybe, if I was brave enough, I could find a way to forgive.