Page 13 of The Mountain Echoes

“Papa—”

“Look, you’re almost a college graduate, just find a job and…if you need money, I’ll see what I can do to help.” His tone is dismissive.

My breath catches in my chest. My stomach hurts like when I got kicked by Pretty Boy, my horse.

“Just like that?” I whisper, barely able to get the words out.

He doesn’t look at me. “It’s for the best. She’s pregnant, and that’s that.”

I never saw Papa after that.

I left the next day and returned to Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo, where I had a semester left before completing my bachelor’s degree in Agricultural Science. I had had dreams of working on Longhorn, running the ranch with Papa.

Celine made sure that didn’t happen.

“I’ve been holding this place together. She gets to play the grieving daughter, but I’ve beenhere.” Celine’s acid words hurt my heart, as does the memory of the last time I talked to Papa on this very porch.

“Well, like you said, she’ll be leaving soon.” Mav seems to be placating her.

“Not fast enough. I did ask Papa to change his will and give me everything…I hope he did that.”

Maverick says something that I can’t catch. New voices join my sister and her lover.

I walk back into the house, bracing myself, hoping I can go straight to theguestroomupstairs, the room that used to be mine.

I didn’t ask Celine for permission to stay; I just put my suitcase there and settled in the best I could.

This house is technically as much mine as hers, unless she did convince Papa to write me out of his will.

I spoke with him at least three times a year every year.

I called him. He never called me.

On his birthday. On mine. On Christmas Eve.

He was polite but short. Papa didn’t like talking on the phone.

Nadine told me how he was doing. She was the one who informed me that Celine had a miscarriage.

I never understood why Celine wanted Hudson. Sure, he was handsome, had an MBA from Stanford, and came from a wealthy enough family. He was a catch.Buthe was not her type. She liked them rugged with muscles.

Like Maverick Kincaid.

But, according to Nadine, everyone who ismineis Celine’s type.

I step into my bedroom, but before I can close the door, Hudson catches it with one hand and pushes himself in. He shuts it quietly behind him.

He’s grown old, is my first thought as I see him up close and personal.

“Aria,” he says, his eyes unfocused.

Since I got here, I’ve been ignoring him. Hard to do that when he’s constantly in my personal space.

I remove the cardigan I’m wearing and use it as an excuse to go to the other side of the large room, where there is a small seating area.

I don’t want to be anywhere near a bed with this man—it gives me the creeps.

“What?” I ask as I sit in what I assume is a daybed in purple velvet.