Holt winced, feeling like a left hook had just landed in his stomach. What the hell?
“You’re done telling me who I am or who I was. I’m proud of the man I’ve become. And I’m damned proud of the father I am.” He glanced behind his father to the house. “Robby!” he shouted. “Come on out, buddy. Time to go.”
“’Kay, Daddy!” Robby shouted back, racing out the door and down the steps, half a muffin in his hand. It was clear from his tone that Robby hadn’t heard any of what his grandfather had said. “Come on, Bentley. Race ya home!”
Robby and the dog went flying up the path.
“When Robby breaks his leg and lands face-first in that muffin in his hand,” his father said, “don’t cry to me.”
Holt shook his head and turned to his mother. “Mom, if you’d like to see me or Robby, it’ll have to be at my place. I love you but I’m done here.” He hugged his mother, glared at his father and then turned and walked toward home, his heart heavier than it was when he’d left his house, and that was saying something.
* * *
On Monday afternoon Amanda arrived at Holt’s house for the tutoring session with Robby, not sure he’d even open the door. But he did. He hadn’t called or texted since yesterday morning when she’d left his bed. She’d thought for sure he wouldn’t let the day pass without at least a text, just something, but not a word.
He stood in the doorway, looking both gorgeous and miserable.
“I’m here to tutor Robby,” she said, lifting her chin. She wasn’t going to let her issues with Holt stop her from keeping her commitment to help Robby with reading.
“I know I said we’d talk. And I want to, Amanda. Can you stay after?”
She nodded, and because she knew him better than she thought, she could tell he was relieved—that she was here, that she actually wanted to talk to him at all. Then again, he probably just wanted closure on this—to end their budding second chance.
She’d never felt so...up in the air. Before—with Holt, with Tyler and his hellish text right before their wedding—she’d had no doubt where she stood: a big fat nowhere. Things had been over, kaput. Now? This? She didn’t know. And that was bad too. Hell yeah, they’d talk after.
Upstairs, she found Robby preparing for their tutoring session as he always did, taking his favorite books from his bookshelf and making a pile. Bentley was on his bed and Oliver was on his perch.
“Hey, Robby!” Amanda said.
He ran over for a hug, talking a mile a minute about his camp-out sleepover with his uncles at the main house, how they’d made s’mores and Shep had brought out his telescope and he saw the Big Dipper and a zillion stars and maybe even planets.
“But then I broke stuff in the kitchen and Gramps yelled at me,” he said, tears welling in his big blue eyes. “He told me I never learn and he’d had it.” He looked at Amanda, biting his lip. “Do you think that means he doesn’t want to be my granddaddy anymore?”
Amanda felt her eyes sting with tears. She sat down on Robby’s bed and patted the space beside her. He came and sat down, wiping under his eyes.
“Did you talk to your dad about this?” Amanda asked.
Robby nodded. “He said that my gramps will always be my gramps no matter what and that he loves me very much. And Daddy also said that Gramps needed more patience and that I needed to be more careful. But I tried to be, I really did. I just wanted to make my gram and gramps coffee.”
Amanda put her arm around him. “I know, sweetheart. And that was very thoughtful of you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted. Maybe next time you want to do something like that, you could ask for a grown-up’s help, like one of your uncles. That way, if anything breaks, they’ll get in trouble and not you.” She gave Robby an evil grin.
Robby laughed. “Hey, yeah, that’s a really good idea. My dad is always saying I should think hard first before I decide to do something. And next time I’ll think to ask someone for help.” He nodded, brightening so much that Amanda’s heart moved in her chest.
Oh, how she loved this boy.
“I picked out two books to read. Did you know that Rocco the Raccoon loves spinach? I tried it cuz of that and it wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be. Not like broccoli.” He scrunched up his face. “I hate broccoli.”
“I looove broccoli!” she said. “I can’t wait to hear the Rocco story about spinach.”
Robby grabbed the book and settled onto the floor on top of his round reading rug, white and blue with silver stars and lots of floor pillows. Bentley jumped down and curled up beside him. Oliver watched from his perch, then closed his eyes again.
As Robby sat beside her, tongue out in concentration, finger moving under the words, Amanda knew she wasn’t giving up on this family. She loved both father and son with everything she was.
She’d give Holt his chance to say what he wanted to say. And then she’d make some decisions. Hard ones.
Chapter Fifteen
Turned out that the two youngest Dalton brothers, Shep and Dale, who lived in the main house, had filled in Morgan and Boone on what had happened with Robby that morning, so the four Daltons insisted on taking Robby to town for cheer-up burgers, fries and ice cream after his tutoring session. Another major plus in the working-for-his-dad column was that Holt and his brothers had gotten closer, and they all adored Robby. They also knew what a hothead their father could be.
Now, a few minutes after Robby had gone off with his uncles, Holt and Amanda sat across from each other at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in front of each, neither saying a word. Amanda sipped her coffee. Holt stared out the window at the moment, trying to figure out where to start, what to say. How to do the least damage.
Amanda cleared her throat. “Before we started reading, Robby told me what happened at the main house this morning. He asked me if his grandfather didn’t love him anymore.”
Holt winced, but before he could respond, Amanda continued.
“I did my best to tell him that his grandfather does love him,” she said. “As he told me you did. But it got me thinking, Holt. That’s how I’m left feeling right now. Unsure of where I stand. Off balance. Last night, in your bed, in your arms, all I could think was how much I still love you. How I have you back. And then bam, all I feel is a cold draft.”
How much I still love you...
He’d done a double take at those words, staring at her as if shocked she’d said such a thing. He kind of was, though. Shocked. That she felt that way. That she’d said it.
She met his gaze, but when he didn’t say anything, she sighed and looked out the window.
He had no idea how he felt. Everything—all the complex layers of what was going on in his life—was balled up so tight.
Dammit. This was not what he wanted. He’d made Amanda feel the way his father had made Robby feel. The way his father had made him feel. How had he screwed up to this degree?
Love was powerful and all-consuming and everything. And right now, he needed to reserve it all for Robby. “I thought I had things figured out,” he said, staring at his coffee before looking up to face her. “I thought I could do this. But then I realized I can’t. I’m not about to let Robby get hurt all over again.”
Amanda gasped. “What? You think I’m going to hurt Robby?”
“You won’t mean to. You won’t want to. But you’ll leave and he’ll be devastated and think it’s his fault. I went through all that with him once and the after-effects are horribly painful and long-lasting. We won’t go through that again. I won’t allow it.”
Amanda stood up. “Are you kidding me? You’re ending things between us—when we just got started—because you expect me to break both your hearts?”
He got up too, moving to the counter to lean against it. “Yes.”
She glared at him, but then her expression softened into something more l
ike sadness. “That’s what you think of me? That’s how little you trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” he said. “Except Robby.”
She was staring at him, sparks in her eyes. “Holt. This is no way to live. Expecting everyone to be like Sally Anne. Hell, you were Sally Anne in our last go around. Not me.”
I did the same thing then that I’m doing now, he realized, his heart cracking. He was leaving Amanda before she could leave him. And this time—Robby.
He hated the wall he felt building around the weaker one she’d managed to get past. “I never wanted to hurt you, Amanda. You mean a lot to me. You know that. But I can’t do this. I won’t do this. I have to protect Robby.”
She shook her head. “I know how much you love your son. I understand how you feel, Holt. I know what that run-in with Sally Anne did to you. But you’re going to throw love away in case it doesn’t work out? Does that really make sense to you?”
“I need to focus on my son, Amanda. There’s no room in my life for anyone but him right now.” There, he came out and said it, openly and honestly. No miscommunication. “I need to protect Robby—heart, mind and soul,” he added, hoping she understood.
Tears welled her in her eyes.
And I need to protect myself, he said silently.
Holt crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll take over working with him on reading. I’m not an expert, of course, but I did some research on how to help a struggling reader improve.”
She barely nodded and headed for the door. “I guess this is goodbye, then.” She whirled around. “For the record, though, Holt. I think you’re wrong here. I love you and the two of us have something very special. And I love Robby, and he and I have a very special relationship too. Same goes for the three of us. We fit. We blend. We belong together, Holt. I’d lost my ability to believe in love, but my feelings for you and for Robby renewed it. I’m glad I believe—even if it means hurting this bad. And for a long time. Because at least I feel. At least I try.”
She pulled open the door and left, and it took everything in him not to follow her, to keep her talking, keep her in sight. But he had to let her go. For everyone’s sake. And that included her own.
* * *
“Goldilocks is gonna be okay, right, Daddy?” Robby asked, sitting beside Holt in the small barn where they were nursing one of their ill goats back to health. So far, so good.
For the goat, anyway. Holt was another story. Almost a week had passed since his awful conversation with Amanda. He hadn’t called or texted and neither had she. Sometimes he missed her so much he felt sick. And there was no medicine. But spending the past few days with Robby and poor Goldilocks practically 24/7 had done wonders for the ill goat.
“I think she’ll be fine,” Holt assured his son. “She probably just needs a day or two more of round-the-clock care. Thanks to you, she’s on the mend.”
Robby beamed. “I did help, didn’t I, Daddy?”
Holt nodded, slinging an arm around Robby’s shoulders. “You did more than just help. You saved that goat’s life. If you hadn’t insisted on us sleeping right outside her pen, we might not have been there when she needed us at three in the morning two nights ago. You were right to argue for that.” Goldilocks had needed constant fluids, but she’d worsened. Thanks to Robby’s sweet insistence on camping outside her pen “just in case,” they’d been ready with water when the goat had needed it.
He’d known, of course, that Robby cared about the animals on the ranch, from the cattle to the small number of farm animals like the goats and lambs, but the extent of his compassion and his interest in Goldie’s illness had surprised him. Holt also knew that kids whose attention could generally be all over the place could focus intently on things that supremely held their interest. Robby had not only just wanted to sit outside Goldie’s pen and monitor her, but he’d done his own research about her illness via a kid’s farming website and had learned a lot about goats and illness in the process. A lot of text for a little boy who struggled with reading. But he’d worked hard. Granted, Robby was only seven, but for him to say he wanted to be a “doctor for farm animals” was a big deal.
And Robby looked so proud right now. Goldilocks was a favorite of Holt’s mother, and she’d been out helping to care for the goat too. Holt had avoided his dad the past several days, easy to do on the vast ranch. The couple of times he’d seen his dad headed in his direction, Holt turned. And he’d kept Robby away from the main house too. That hadn’t felt good at all. But the burn in his gut over his problems with his dad, especially where Robby was concerned, kept his mind off Amanda. Until late at night when he would try to sleep and all he could think about was her.
Their last night together.
How he missed her.
How he wished he could undo hurting her without undoing the part that kept him and Robby on the right track.
“I hear Goldie’s better, thanks to you two,” a familiar voice said.
Neal Dalton. He was in his work clothes, his jeans and a western shirt with a leather vest, and his black Stetson. He had his phone in his hand, as usual. His sons managed various aspects of the ranch and one of them was always contacting him. Holt had simply avoided checking in with his father about anything that had come up the past bunch of days. He’d just dealt with whatever needed dealing with.
“Gramps, guess what?” Robby said. “I helped mix Goldilocks’s yogurt and honey. And she ate most of it!”
One of the pluses of Robby’s impulsivity was that he didn’t shy away from people who he knew were upset with him. That always helped smooth things over since Robby rarely cowered or ran off. But his grandfather was a tough customer.
Neal Dalton smiled and took off his hat. “I heard that you’ve taken real good care of her. You saved your gram’s favorite goat. I’m proud of you, Robby.”
“You are?” Robby asked, tilting his head.
“Sure am,” Neal said.
Holt had never been able to read his father all that well, but the different emotions on the man’s face clued him in that Neal Dalton was uncomfortable as heck right now. His father seemed about to say something, then clamped his mouth shut, glancing over at Goldie. Neal ran a hand under his right eye, then his left, and Holt peered more closely at him.
Was his father crying?
Robby got up, hay in his hair and all over his back. He walked over to his gramps and pulled out a baggie with carrot slices, which they’d packed just in case the goat got well enough to have the special teat. “I walked and didn’t run this time. Do you want some carrots, Gramps? Goldilocks isn’t feeling good enough to have them yet.”
Neal Dalton slashed a quick hand under both eyes again, then wrapped Robby in a hug. “I’d love a carrot, Robby. And thank you for walking and not running.”
Robby smiled. “Because sometimes it can make the animals feel scared. I wouldn’t want Goldilocks to feel scared.”
“I’ll bet she really appreciates that you’re taking such good care of her,” Neal said, his eyes soft.
Robby grinned, glancing at the goat, then his face fell and he looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I’m not a good grandson.” His eyes welled with tears. “I really am trying to be better, Gramps.”
Holt closed his eyes for a second, his own eyes stinging. Oh, Robby, he thought, wanting to scoop up his boy and hold him close, save him, somehow, from this hurt.
And if his father blew his response, there’d be hell to pay.
He’d give Neal Dalton five seconds to make this right.
Neal Dalton’s face almost crumpled. “You’re a great grandson, Robby. Of course you are. I’m so glad you’re my grandboy.”
Holt almost gasped, his heart squeezing in his chest. Robby’s face brightened, the tears abating.
“Now, it is true that sometimes you’re a little too loud or fast or wild for me,” Neal c
ontinued. “But I’m an impatient type. But you know what, Robby? I’m gonna try to be more patient because I love you and I want us to spend more time together. We’ll both try.”
Robby smiled and seemed about to jump up and down, then thought better of it. “Daddy always says that all we can do is try.”
This time, Holt did gasp. As Amanda’s words came back to him. I’m glad I believe—even if it means hurting this bad. And for a long time. Because at least I feel. At least I try.
He didn’t want to think about this right now. Things were finally okay. Yeah, he missed the hell out of Amanda but this—him and Robby, on the ranch, his livelihood and future and Robby’s legacy—was how it was supposed to be.
“I am very sorry for making you feel bad, Robby,” Neal said. “I shouldn’t have because I love you so much.”
Robby smiled. “I love you, Gramps.” The boy hugged his grandfather tight, Neal Dalton scooping Robby up and holding him close.
Well, that was all very unexpected. The relief that came over Holt undid muscles he hadn’t even realized were bunch up and stiff. He was about to pull his dad aside and tell him how much all that meant to him when a gruff voice sounded from outside the barn.
“Holt Dalton!” a man called out. “I’m looking for Holt Dalton.”
Holt frowned and eyed his dad and shrugged. “Robby, you wait with Goldie, okay?”
“Okay,” Robby said, sitting on a stool just outside the pen with his Rocco the Raccoon book. “I’ll read to her.”
Holt nodded, and then he and his father walked out. Standing in front of the barn, hands on hips, was Edward Thompson.
A vein was popping in the man’s neck, his blue eyes shooting sparks. “My daughter informed me this morning that she and your ranch hand are engaged,” Thompson said. “That is absolutely unacceptable, and I want to know how you’re going to fix this mess.”
Engaged. Holt wasn’t surprised to hear that. That meant Brody and Piper had made their plan. “I did talk to Brody,” Holt said. “He’s a smart, levelheaded young man who loves your daughter very much. In fact, he has Piper’s interests above his own. If he proposed, it’s because he has a solid plan for their present and their future.”
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