The Triplets' Cowboy Daddy. Patricia Johns
dad dumped her stuff out into a pile and burned it. I guess that was cathartic for him. I managed to sneak off with one of her shirts—some discarded thing she didn’t feel like bringing with her, I guess. I kept it under my mattress. It smelled like her cigarettes. I have that still.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?” Nora murmured.
A better question was, why had he told her now? Nora came from a loving home with parents who both adored her. Her family ran the ranch very successfully, and she’d had a bright future. He’d had none of those things, and yet he was still willing to be there for her, give her whatever support she needed. Why? Because he’d been in love with her, and maybe deep down he was afraid that if she knew the mess inside him, it would turn her off him.
“That’s not how we worked, you and I,” he said after a moment.
“Meaning I was self-involved.” She winced. “I’m sorry. I must have been.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. You were used to happier days than I was. You were more easily disappointed.”
“I wish I’d been a better friend,” she said.
But it wasn’t friendship that would have soothed his teenage soul. If she’d been a more attentive friend, it might have made it harder. He might have actually held out hope that she’d see more in him. But being six inches shorter with a face full of acne had taken care of that.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It was a long time ago.”
Easton needed to be careful, though, because not much had changed. She was still the heir to the ranch he worked, she was still the much loved daughter of the owner and she still needed his emotional support right now...except he wasn’t so naive this time around. He knew how this ended. Nora would pull things together and she’d step out into that bright future of hers, leaving him right where he’d always been—on the ranch. She’d walk away again, and she wouldn’t think to look back.
“You have the magic touch with the babies,” she said, easing herself forward to stand up. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” What else was he supposed to do when three tiny girls had taken over his home? She walked toward the stairs with Bobbie in her arms.
“Why didn’t you call your mom when the babies wouldn’t stop crying?” he asked, and she looked back.
“Because she isn’t really on board with this. Getting my mom’s help isn’t as great a solution as I thought. If I’m going to raise these girls, I’ll have to figure out a way to do it on my own.”
He’d suspected as much. While she’d probably pitch in, it was a bit much to expect Dina to joyfully embrace raising her late husband’s other family.
“I’ll get them back up to the crib,” she said. “I’ll be back.”
And she disappeared from the room. He wasn’t a long-term solution, either. He never had been, not in her eyes, and he wasn’t about to make the same mistake he’d made as a teen. He didn’t cross oceans for someone who wouldn’t jump a puddle for him. Not anymore.
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