by Liz Isaacson
“Why would it be a sore subject?” Colton kicked off his boots and unzipped his bag, ready to be out of his clothes, at least these restricting ones. “Oh, I know.”
“Maddie,” they said together.
“Yeah,” Wes said. “I guess that was a real bad situation—worse than even we knew about—with her and Hunter. So Gray is real careful now.”
“Fair enough,” Colton said. “It’s his life, and his son, and he’s the only one who knows what to do.” Colton sure didn’t know what to do with his own life, and he wouldn’t want Gray trying to advise him.
“I’m trying to be less careful,” Wes said.
Colton looked at him, his eyes widening. “Really? You?” He laughed, his thoughts zeroing in on Bree as he did. She didn’t need someone being less than careful with her feelings, and Colton would feel like a complete jerk if it was his brother who caused her to cry the way the last guy had.
“I know, right?” Wes asked, folding his arms as he grinned. He had plenty of silver hair too, and even Gray’s had started going, well, gray. Hammond genes at work again. Plus, Colton thought. We handle a lot of stress.
His father had been emphasizing the importance of taking care of their money since each boy turned thirteen. That was when Dad sat them each down and had a talk about what would happen when they turned twenty-one. A tiny part of Colton felt like he’d missed out on some of the fun times of being a teenager, because he didn’t want to disappoint his father, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t squander the opportunities provided for him.
Ames and Cy didn’t seem to have the same drive and motivation as the older three, and they’d bought cars and motorcycles when they’d turned twenty-one. Colton couldn’t even remember the first big-ticket item he’d bought. Probably his house in Virginia, where he’d lived while he worked on the Human Genome Project.
“Anyway, I’m having fun getting to know Bree,” Wes said. “I figure I might as well. I might have to buckle down and be serious again soon enough.”
“Okay,” Colton said. “Just...don’t hurt her, okay?”
Wes’s smile faded. “You think I’m going to hurt her?”
“I think you’re incredibly charming and very good-looking, and yes, when you start talking to a woman and then stop, that could hurt her.”
Wes made a noise halfway between a scoff and a snort. It must’ve hurt his throat and the back of his nose, right up in his sinuses, but he didn’t act like. “Charming and good-looking?”
“Yes, and I showed her a picture of us. She was definitely interested in you.”
“Why wasn’t she interested in you?” Wes asked. “You seem to know her really well.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Colton stripped off his shirt and reached for a T to wear to bed. “We became friends pretty fast. There was no spark between us.” He looked over his shoulder and pulled on his shirt. “So don’t worry about that.”
“It hadn’t even crossed my mind,” Wes said.
Colton wished it hadn’t even crossed Annie’s mind. She seemed to look for ways to find Colton being interested in people he wasn’t. “All right,” he said. “Get out. Go to bed. Call Bree. Whatever. But I’m exhausted, and I have to deal with Mom and Dad tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you’re going to need it,” Wes said, actually coming into the room, not leaving it. “Mom seems to have all kinds of uncomfortable questions to ask right now.”
“She always does.” Colton turned toward Wes, and they embraced. He held on for an extra moment, and then two. Something brotherly and powerful passed between them, and Colton appreciated his brother more than he ever had.
“And we’ll strategize for the meeting with Gray too,” Wes said, stepping back. “It’s good to have you back, Colt.” He meant more than just back physically, and Colton knew it.
Wes left the room, pulling the door closed behind him, and Colton sank back onto the bed, his jeans still on. He reached for his phone, determined to make good on what he’d said he’d do.
He’d said he’d call Annie and Bree, but it was too late for that. So he sent them each a text. Made it to Ivory Peaks.
He wanted to add more to Annie’s, like, I miss you. Or Please don’t be mad at me. I hate it when you’re mad at me. Or Will you go out with me when I return to Coral Canyon?
But, at this point in time, Colton didn’t even know if he’d be returning to Coral Canyon. So he left the texts as they were, made sure his phone was silenced, plugged it in, and got out of those annoying jeans.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gray Hammond woke up before the sun, which wasn’t all that unusual. He rolled over, a twinge of pain shooting down through his hip, reminding him that he’d run ten miles yesterday, and he better take it slow today.
Most people probably took Christmas Day off from their workout schedule, but Gray had a marathon coming up in April, and three months could pass in the blink of an eye for a man like Gray.
He sat up and took a few minutes to stretch his back, his arms, his legs. Hunter snoozed several feet away, on an air mattress Gray had brought with him.
His mother would’ve set up a bed for her only grandson, but Gray didn’t like creating extra work for her. She and Dad could barely keep up with the farm, and now that Dad had it in his mind to have Wes run for governor, he’d been spending more and more time in his office.
Gray dressed quickly and moved over to his ten-year-old. “Hunter,” he said softly. “Get up, son. We’re goin’ out to the farm this morning.”
Hunter’s eyes opened, a frown pulling down his eyebrows. He didn’t groan or complain though, and a few seconds later, he sat up too. “Can I feed the pigs?”
“Yep.” Gray wasn’t going to argue with whatever Hunter wanted to do. He was glad to have his son with him for the holidays, and while he hated waking his son before dawn, they both loved working on the farm.
“I’m going to go make coffee.” Gray eased out of the room and went down the hall to the kitchen. He’d beaten his mom and dad to the coffeemaker, which was probably for the best. How they’d survived for so many years drinking bad coffee, he didn’t know.
He got the coffee dripping, and he stepped to the back door to put on his boots. He took his cowboy hat from the hook beside the door and settled it on his head too, hearing his son coming down the hall.
“You want chocolate milk?” he asked Hunter.
“Yes, please.” Hunter went to the back door and got his hat and boots too, without Gray even having to ask him. An outpouring of love for his son filled him, and Gray pulled out a gallon of chocolate milk and poured some for his son.
“Do you want a bite now, or do you think you can work for a couple of hours?” Gray had arrived on Christmas Eve, just after lunch, and he hadn’t realized the state of the ranch until after they’d opened Christmas presents and eaten breakfast. But he’d like to get the animals taken care of early, then go out in the afternoon too. With the cold Rocky Mountain weather, the animals needed fresh water a few times a day, because it could freeze easily in temperatures such as the ones that existed right now.
“I’ll have a granola bar,” Hunter said, his voice a bit rusty this early in the morning. He came into the kitchen and opened the pantry to get his mini-breakfast. As soon as Gray had a cup of coffee in a Styrofoam cup with a lid, he said, “Let’s go.”
They coated up and put on gloves and stepped into the chilly morning. Hunter walked right next to Gray, and they’d always gotten along real nice. Gray loved his son with every fiber of his being, and he’d fought Sheila for full custody, because she’d wanted to take their son to Florida.
Florida, a state she’d never been to. She didn’t know anyone there, and she didn’t have a job lined up. When Gray—one of the best corporate lawyers in the state of Colorado—had brought up all of this evidence, he’d claimed that he thought Sheila was trying to keep Hunter from Gray, and that she could possibly flee the country from Florida.
At that point, Hunter had
been five years old, and Gray couldn’t believe his life had come to that courtroom. Sheila had cried, and she’d said she couldn’t believe Gray could think that about her. But she wasn’t the same person Gray had fallen in love with, he knew that. And he also knew how to divorce himself from his feelings so he could make legal decisions without a clouded mind.
And he’d won full custody. Sheila had gone to Florida, and Gray hadn’t heard from her for years. Four long years.
At first, Hunter had been too young to realize his mother wasn’t around. But Gray made it a point to talk to him about Sheila, especially as he entered school and started hearing about other boys’ mothers, and having to deal with events like Moms and Muffins.
Sheila had started calling about a year ago, and it had become apparent very quickly that she wanted Hunter in her life, basically as a trophy. So she could show her parents what a great grandson they had. So she could show her multiple boyfriends what an amazing son she had.
Gray had gritted his teeth and allowed her to see her own son. He couldn’t keep Hunter from her, and he’d done the best he could to talk to Hunter about everything. Absolutely everything, from sex to girls to swearing to drugs to rated-R movies. They talked about math and science too, both things Hunter was exceptionally gifted at. They talked about dogs and horses, and Gray hadn’t thought there was another human alive that loved fishing as much as he did. Then he’d had Hunter, and the boy seemed to truly enjoy their weekends in the mountain rivers, catching fish for dinner.
Gray reached over and put his arm around Hunter’s shoulders. “Did you have a good Christmas, Hunter?”
“Yeah,” the boy said. “Real nice. Thanks for the baseball stuff, Dad. Can we play today?”
“Sure,” Gray said. “Uncle Wes says he knows how to use that tractor to clear the yard, but I’ll do it.” He chuckled. “I don’t trust Wes. He can barely drive a car.”
Hunter smiled too, and everything inside Gray aligned. Yes, he was lonely sometimes. He wished he had more help than he did almost all the time. But luckily, he worked at the family company and could set his hearings and meetings around his son’s school schedule.
All that’s about to change, he thought, but he pushed the worries from his mind. He didn’t need to work at all. He had plenty of money in the bank, and he’d stay on at HMC for at least the next twelve months, as their legal advisory. After that, Jill, Laura, and Kent could hire a different lawyer for their needs, and Gray would move on.
He’d never minded moving on. He possessed a gypsy soul, and even now, he itched to do something different. He’d always liked to cook, and maybe he’d go to culinary school—if they had one in the Denver area.
He didn’t want to take Hunter from his support system of friends and family, that was for sure.
“Pigs right there,” Gray said, dropping his arm. “You pull out all the leftover food, okay? We don’t want them eating rotten food.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter said. “And de-ice the trough and put in more water.”
“All the way to the top,” Gray said. “Takes longer to freeze.”
“Okay.” Hunter hesitated and looked further down the dirt road where they were walking. “Where are you gonna be?”
“I’m going to start with the horses,” Gray said. “And move over to the chickens. If you get there before me, go ahead and start with them, all right?”
“Yes, sir.” Hunter moved toward the pig pens now, his step sure. Gray watched him a moment, then bent his head into the wind and kept going toward the stables.
A couple of hours later, Gray couldn’t feel his fingers, and Hunter looked a couple of breaths away from passing out. “Let’s go eat, bud.” He reached for his son, and Hunter came to his side. “I bet Uncle Wes or Grandma has something cooking by now.”
“I hope so,” Hunter said. “Do you think Grandma made ebelskivers?”
“I bet she would if you asked her to.” Gray smiled at him. “Grandma makes whatever you want, doesn’t she?”
Hunter grinned too. “Yeah, I guess she does.”
“So you be real polite, and you ask her.”
“Okay.”
They walked back to the sprawling farmhouse in silence. Hunter could’ve had his own bedroom in the unused wing of the house, but he didn’t like being separated from everyone else. He would one day, Gray knew, but for now, he was glad Hunter would rather sleep on an air mattress at the foot of his bed than off by himself in another room.
One step inside the house, and relief coursed through Gray. First, the heat made his muscles sigh. Second, it was Colton at the stove, not Wes or Mom.
“Colton,” Gray said, surprise and happiness in his voice. “When did you get here?”
“Late last night,” he said, turning with a spatula in his hand. “Get over here, Hunter.” He wore a huge grin, and he scooped Hunter up into a hug as if the boy was still five years old.
He was twice that now, but he still laughed and hugged his uncle as if he were a little boy.
“Look at you,” Colton said. “I think you’ve grown a foot since I saw you last.”
“It’s only been a month,” Gray said, shrugging out of his coat. He took Hunter’s too, and added, “We’re starving. What’re you cookin’?”
“Fried eggs,” Colton said. “You want some?”
“I don’t like the runny yolk,” Hunter said.
“That’s insane,” Colton said. “But okay.”
“He wants ebelskivers.”
“Oh, you’re going to have to ask Grandma for those,” Colton said. “She just went out to the porch to get the newspaper.” He grinned over Hunter’s head to Gray. “The newspaper. I asked her if they still printed those, and she threw an oven mitt at me.” He laughed, and Gray thought he looked real good for what he’d been through.
Colton hadn’t made it to the I-do the way Gray had, and after his divorce was final, he’d disappeared for a few months. Maybe half a year.
But Hunter had pulled him back to reality. His son needed him, and no one else was going to register the boy for kindergarten. Gray had to do it. Gray had to do everything.
A perfect sense of failure pulled through him. Some days, he felt like he got so much done. Dishes. Laundry. Papers signed. Meetings and presentations done. Parent-teacher conferences attended.
No matter what he did in any given day, no matter how many tasks he accomplished, there was always something he didn’t do. Didn’t accomplish. Didn’t excel at. He failed every single day, and he was so tired.
It was never enough. He was never enough.
The front door closed with a bang, and Gray nudged Hunter toward the hall leading to it. “Go ask her.”
“Grandma,” Hunter said without hesitation as he walked toward her. “After you read your paper, can you make ebelskivers for breakfast? I’ll help with the butter and sugar.”
“Of course, baby,” Gray’s mother said, and Gray ducked his head as he smiled. He loved his parents. They were good people, and they’d survived raising five boys, and Gray had learned to love to work from both his mother and his father.
“Morning, Mom,” he said, stepping over to give her a kiss. “All the animals are fed and watered for now.”
“Oh, you’re such a good boy, Gray,” she said, beaming up at him. “Can you go help Gramma up? She’ll want some ebelskivers too.”
“Sure thing.” Gray went down the hall while his mother and Hunter took Colton’s place in the kitchen. His grandmother was ninety-six-years-old, and Gray thought she’d pass any day now.
Mom said she spent the mornings in bed, and the afternoons in the recliner in the living room. She or Dad had to help Gramma move anywhere she went, which made taking care of her needs—like bathing and using the bathroom—hard for all of them. It wasn’t like his mom and dad were spring chickens.
Gray knocked on the door to the small bedroom and then turned the doorknob. “Gramma?” He entered the room, noticing the scent of something old. Mothballs or s
omething that had been sitting for a very long time. “You awake?”
“Yes, boy,” she said, and Gray smiled at her.
“I’m here to help you into the living room,” he said. “Mom’s making ebelskivers, and you love those.”
“Help me up.” She reached one weathered, veiny hand toward him, and Gray moved right to the side of the bed and gripped her hand firmly. She wore a long nightgown with purple flowers on it, and he stayed right beside her as she shuffled out of the room.
“Bathroom?” he asked.
“Yes.” She detoured into the bathroom, and Gray went with her. She transferred her hand to the counter for her support, and Gray stepped out.
“Ready,” she called a few minutes later, and he went in and helped her out into the living room and kitchen area.
“Gramma,” Colton said, bolting to his feet. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Colt,” she said, as Gramma never said more than she needed to. Said it took too much energy, and she needed all she had to keep living. “You’re back.”
“Just gone for a few days, yes,” he said. He took Gramma the rest of the way to her chair. “I’ll bring you some breakfast as soon as it’s ready.”
“Coffee,” she said, and Colton hopped to getting that for her. Gray watched him, because there was definitely something different about him. What it was, though, Gray wasn’t sure.
He kept his questions to himself through saying good morning to his dad and Wes, who came into the kitchen together. He didn’t ask anything during breakfast. He held his tongue while he helped Wes and Hunter clean up the kitchen.
“You wanna get on the computer?” he asked Hunter.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get ten minutes of typing before you play a game,” he said, and Hunter skipped down the hall to the bedroom they shared.
