But something else was poking at him too. Something that said: It’s Robby who’s going to get hurt when she leaves you. You’ll disappoint her, Robby will be too much, more than she realized, and suddenly, your heart is handed back to you and your son is sobbing.
Oh hell. That tightness in his chest was back, and he stared up at the ceiling. Last night was everything he remembered and so much more. He and Amanda had been perfect fits, in sync, in harmony, and he’d released what felt like years of pent-up frustration. All he’d kept thinking—when he’d been able to process thought—was that he had Amanda back, and everything in his world had felt right again.
But the weight of that world was now back, pressing down hard. He tried to keep it at bay, to just keep thinking about what he wanted for Robby, but he couldn’t stop all the echoes in his head. People, even those closest to you—I’m talking about you, Dad—couldn’t be trusted. People walked out. That’s you, Sally Anne. People disappointed. That’s me.
Why had he thought he and Amanda could have a second chance, that they could find what they needed in each other? He’d believed he was thinking about his son’s needs when he’d proposed they try again. But hadn’t everything they’d been through hammered home that the fairy tale he sought for Robby didn’t exist?
He wasn’t letting anyone in to hurt Robby again, to turn Holt’s life upside down. They had a good thing going here at Dalton’s Grange. They had family, even with his issues with his dad. He had nothing to prove to his father anymore and hell if he’d make Robby prove anything to his grandfather. Right now, Robby was over at the main house, having a sleepover in the backyard with Shep and Dale. Between his grandmother and his uncles and Holt, Robby had all the love and support he needed. Holt wasn’t going to let anyone come in and break his son’s heart by leaving.
He could feel himself getting farther and farther away from thinking he and Amanda could have a shot, that their relationship would work out, that she would still find Robby so lovable after a few weeks.
Damn, you’re cynical, he thought. Yeah, but how could he not be? There was Sally Anne’s appearance and the sickening truth that she didn’t care about Robby. And now there was Holt’s disillusionment all over again when he’d just been building his faith in life and love back up.
What the hell was the point?
He felt Amanda stir beside him. And everything inside him went cold and hard, like stone. Now he was going to hurt her when she didn’t deserve it. He’d brought up the second chance. He’d brought up the idea of them fulfilling each other’s needs and hopes and dreams. She’d been saying all along that she didn’t want to go back, that she couldn’t.
And he’d brought her right in.
He wasn’t too fond of himself at the moment.
Holt had thought he’d been taking his father’s advice—his father’s good advice—to not mess things up with Amanda. All Holt had done was mess up. Bad.
His phone rang, and Holt grabbed it off his bedside table. His dad. Calling at 5:52 a.m.?
He bolted upright. Had something happened to Robby?
Amanda sat up too, looking at him in with concern as she pulled the quilt up to cover herself.
“You’d better come get your son,” Neal Dalton said—grumpily. “He woke up too early and is bouncing off the walls.”
He shook his head. “Seriously, Dad.”
“Oh, I’m being serious, all right,” Neal said. “Robby took it upon himself to make his grandmother and me coffee and managed to break not only the carafe but a mug. It’s just too much, Holt, and I want you to come get him right now.”
“Look,” Holt said. “I get that he broke something. But you can’t just clean it up and ask him to be more careful? He thought he was doing something nice for you and Mom.”
“Just come get him.”
Holt hung up.
“Dammit,” he said, reaching for his boxer briefs, which he quickly put on as surreptitiously as possible.
“What’s going on?” Amanda asked.
He stalked to his dresser and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. “I’m sorry, Amanda. But I’ve got to go get Robby. He woke up too early and is already breaking things by accident and driving my dad nuts. Why don’t you take my truck home, and I’ll have one of my brothers drive me over to get it later. You can leave the keys in the console.”
She hesitated a second before saying, “Okay.” Then another pause.
He didn’t know how he’d expected this morning to go, but leaving her to drive herself home while he left wasn’t it. The idea of that made him feel like hell, but having her here this early when he walked back in with Robby would be kind of awkward too.
He let out a breath and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry I’m being so abrupt. I woke up feeling kind of...unsettled, and then the phone rang and made it worse.”
“Unsettled?” she asked, pulling on her clothes. Her movements were so fast and stiff, and he knew he’d made her feel off balance. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and just hold her—not say anything because he had no idea what he wanted to say. But he had to go. And he needed the space to think anyway.
“Can we talk later, Amanda? I mean, really talk.”
She stared at him for a second and then finally nodded.
He wasn’t even sure what he planned to say.
Chapter Fourteen
Amanda very quietly entered her apartment, not wanting to wake up Brittany or be caught slinking in like this in last night’s clothes. Brittany would want details, and Amanda would burst into tears. She’d been trying not to cry since she’d left Dalton’s Grange—in Holt’s truck.
Poindexter padded over for some attention, so she picked him up and nuzzled him, giving him a few good scratches along his back, then fed him breakfast. She could use coffee, but what she really needed was a hot, bracing shower.
It was under the water, washing away all traces of last night, washing away Holt’s scent, that she let herself give into how she was feeling—and she cried. Hard. Something had shifted deep within her. The way he’d let her inside, opened up to her, after such a tumultuous, emotional incident, had made her feel so close to him. And as she’d fallen asleep after they’d made love, she’d truly thought they were a united team, that they’d found their way to each other. Her heart had opened to him. Fully.
And this morning, she’d felt him close his own.
In her bathrobe, her hair damp down her back, she could swear she smelled coffee brewing, the chocolate-hazelnut roast she loved. Which meant that Brittany was awake. Thank God. Now that Amanda had gotten the crying out of her system, she could use some Brittany wisdom.
As she walked into the kitchen, her roommate, looking gorgeous as usual even though she’d just rolled out of bed, was studying her.
“So, I heard the door open and close a little while ago,” Brittany said, her dark eyes shrewd. “Then I heard the shower start. That tells me a few things. But I hope I’ve got it wrong.”
Amanda bit her lip. “You don’t, I’m sure.”
Brittany poured them each a mug of coffee and brought the creamer and sugar to the table. “That you didn’t come home last night means the night started out great. That you didn’t come home till 6:00 a.m. means the night ended great. But that you’re home this early and taking a shower here means something went wrong this morning.”
“Are you sure you’re not clairvoyant?” Amanda asked, smiling for the first time since she woke up.
Brittany took a sip of her coffee. “Oh, just been there, experienced that. But I’m usually the one making something go wrong and leaving.”
Maybe that was the way. Because then, you didn’t get hurt. But Holt had seemed as conflicted as Amanda was. “Everything was going great and then disaster struck. More like a tornado. We were having an amazing time together at that little Italian place at the end of
Main Street,” Amanda said, thinking back to the restaurant, so romantic, the candlelit table, the delicious food, the good wine. “And toward the end of dinner, guess who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, picking up takeout. Holt’s ex-wife.”
Brittany raised an eyebrow. “The one who hasn’t been around in a few years? Why was she here? To spend time with her son?”
“An old friend was having problems, apparently. She wasn’t even planning on seeing Robby. I don’t get it. Neither does Holt. They had words about that, and he was so upset about his ex’s complete lack of regard for their child that I drove him home. Then we got to talking about it and one thing led to another and...we were in bed.”
“Tell me that part was good,” Brittany said with a gentle smile.
“Amazing. Beautiful. Everything I remember and everything I imagined being with him again would be like. I’m so damned in love with the guy, Brittany.”
“I know,” her roommate said, squeezing her hand. “So all the negative energy from the ex got pushed aside for something much better at his place last night, but then it all came back to him this morning?”
Amanda tilted her head. “You know, I didn’t really think about it like that, but yeah, I guess it must have. He said he felt unsettled, and I’m sure that was why. And maybe both parts of his past coming at him.” She sipped her coffee, wishing she understood better. “The ex-wife. The ex-girlfriend.”
“So what caused you to come home?”
“His son had slept over at his grandparents and Holt got called to come get him. Robby was either too loud or broke something or both.”
“Ah. The triple whammy. The ex-wife infuriating him. The hopeful second chance with the woman he never forgot. And his grumpy father, impatient with his son. All in one brief period of time. Enough to rattle the calmest of us.”
That made her feel better for herself—and terrible for Holt. “You think so?”
“The ex-wife’s appearance would be enough, Amanda. From everything you’ve said, Holt’s a really devoted dad. His son is the world to him. And the boy’s mother comes to town and doesn’t even arrange to see her own kid?” She shook head. “Holt’s probably just all tangled up. Wishing things could be different and knowing they can’t be.”
“Well, maybe he thinks we can’t be either,” Amanda said. “He just seemed so defeated this morning.”
“Give him a little time. I have faith,” Brittany said.
Amanda sighed. “Wish I did.” Maybe she would if she hadn’t been dumped by Holt once already.
“I know he picked you up last night, so you drove his car home this morning?”
Amanda nodded, then got up and headed for the fridge, needing some sourdough toast with butter and jam, pure comfort breakfast. “Want some?” she asked Brittany, holding up the sourdough bread.
“Sure do,” Brittany said with a smile. “Well, then he’ll come by some time this morning to pick up the car. You’ll talk then. And be smooching a big hot hello.”
Amanda laughed, then her smile faded. “He told me to just leave the keys in the truck’s console, so he doesn’t even have to come up for them.”
“Trust me, he’ll come up.”
Amanda hoped so. Or she’d go out of her mind wondering what was going on with them, what he was thinking. She didn’t want to be shut out. Not when they’d both let each other in.
After breakfast, when Brittany left to take her own shower, Amanda headed over to her laptop on the coffee table and checked her email—and almost jumped.
There was a response to her last post on the group chat site about adoptees seeking information on their birth parents. Amanda hadn’t had much information to share on the site, just the general birth year, possible birth place, which might not even be accurate, and the birth parents’ names—she kept it surnames only for privacy—but she’d hoped that would be enough to connect with someone out there. And for Josiah Abernathy and Winona Cobbs to be reunited with the baby girl they’d had to give up—the baby girl Winona had been told had died.
Amanda clicked on the email.
Hi. My name is Bernadette Jefferson and I was born in Rust Creek Falls and placed for adoption with a loving family. When my parents passed on, I found a document in their keepsake trunk with the name Abernathy—it was with my birth certificate. Abernathy isn’t a very common name so I think I might be who you’re looking for. I know my birth parents would be very elderly if still alive. This is the first time I’ve had hope so thank you for that! Please be in touch at your earliest convenience.
With hope, Bernadette Jefferson
Amanda burst out of her chair, scooped up Poindexter and danced him around the living room. “Poin! I think we found the long-lost baby daughter of Winona Cobbs and Josiah Abernathy! After seventy-five years!”
Poindexter did not seem to care, but he liked being held so he went with the dance.
“Ooh, I have to text Mel right away!” She put down the cat and ran for her phone. It was six thirty, but she had to tell Mel this great news right away, even if it meant the notification would awaken her and possibly Gabe if she was at his ranch this morning. Amanda knew her friend would want to know about the response right away. Especially because it was so promising. Abernathy wasn’t a common name. And the timing and birth place matched!
She copied and pasted the email into a text and sent it to Mel. Five seconds later, her phone pinged back.
Omigosh! Mel texted. You’re amazing—thank you so much for helping us! This is our first real lead and it sounds so promising! I’ll respond to her. Thanks again, Amanda!
The email and Mel’s response had done wonders for Amanda’s battered spirit.
* * *
The half-mile walk to the main house had done little to clear Holt’s head. The way he’d treated Amanda... He’d reached for his phone three times to at least text her an I’m sorry, then put it back in his pocket. He had to break the urge to connect with her. The yearning for her. He had to let her go.
He’d taken Bentley with him, letting the dog walk along unleashed at his side. In the distance he could see Robby kicking a soccer ball, his grandmother sitting on the wraparound porch, cheering him on. Neal Dalton was nowhere to be found.
“Bentley!” Robby shouted, and came running, the border collie sprinting toward him. Robby dropped to his knees, hugging and kissing his beloved dog, the boy rolling on the grass and Bentley following suit.
This was what childhood was supposed to be, Holt thought. Exactly this. And making mistakes. And accepting the consequences for them. But those consequences right now included a grumpy, impatient grandfather. Holt had always thought Robby and Neal Dalton would have to meet each other halfway—Robby being more mindful, particularly when he was around his grandfather, and Neal being more patient and understanding that his grandson had a harder time controlling his impulses than some other kids.
If your father can’t change, Holt’s mother had said once, I don’t know why he expects a little boy to be able to change.
Holt had appreciated that then, that his mother understood. But in the year Holt and Robby had been just a half mile away, the boy spending a lot of time with his grandparents, Neal Dalton hadn’t become more accepting of his grandson.
As Holt got closer, Robby catapulted himself into his father’s arms, and Holt lifted his boy up and held him tight. He loved this child with all his heart. Everything was right here.
His mother waved with a big smile and went inside, then came back out with a bowl of what looked like water, Holt’s dad behind her. She set the bowl down by the door—for Bentley, he realized with a smile—then called Robby into the house for lemonade and a muffin. Thank God for his mother. She was the one who’d asked Holt to rethink his no about working for his father, living on Dalton’s Grange, and he’d say yes all over again for his mother’s sake. But it was time for him and his dad t
o come to terms about the way he responded to Robby. Given his father’s expression right now, which was along the lines of I’ve-had-it-up-to-here and Holt’s matching thought, he had no idea how this conversation would go.
Look, Robby’s teacher had said when Holt had been honest about his dad’s impatience with Robby at home. That’s part of the consequences of Robby’s behavior. And part of your job is helping Robby manage that—from dealing with people’s negative reactions to his behavior, from strangers to classmates and staff, to family. It’s all valid, Holt.
“Finally,” Neal Dalton said as Holt got closer.
Holt glared at his dad. Sometimes, he’d see his father in front of the grand, majestic mansion and he’d try to reconcile the man he’d always known with this new rich Neal Dalton who owned this beautiful home and all this land. This successful ranch. His father had changed—because his wife’s health scare and a big pile of money had given him a second chance.
It’s what you do with what you have, Holt thought as his father came down the stairs.
So why the hell can’t I apply that way of thinking to me and Amanda? Why am I so sure it’ll all fall apart?
Because it always does, he reminded himself, thinking of Sally Anne.
His mother came back out with a doggie biscuit, which she set on the cushy mat in front of Bentley, who was enjoying the shade. She gave the dog a pat.
“If you can’t be more patient with Robby, then I don’t think you should be around him, Dad. He needs people on his side. Yes, he needs guidance and correction—from me, his parent—not you. Do I make myself clear?”
His father seemed taken aback. “How dare you talk to me like that!”
“I dare because I have to.”
Neal Dalton shook his head. “Trust me, Holt. You were the same way as Robby at his age and I said the same nonsense—oh, he’ll grow out of it. And look what happened when you got older. Making trouble, getting arrested for nonsense. Running wild. Marrying a woman who doesn’t even care about her own child.”
The Cowboy's Comeback (Montana Mavericks: What Happened To Beatrix? Book 2) Page 15
