by Addison Fox
“And mine. I’m going to have a role in my child’s life. I’m not looking for visiting rights once a week, Reese. We will share custody.”
Whether once a week or once a year, the thought of parting with her baby for even a moment filled her with dread.
“I can’t believe I came here.”
A small line furrowed Hoyt’s brow as his eyebrows made tight slashes across his forehead. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“This is my baby. I’m not giving him or her up.”
“I’m not suggesting anything about giving anyone up. The baby is mine, too. Would you keep me from him or her?”
“No.” When he said it that way, Reese felt small. This was his child, too.
That reality was one they were both going to have to come to terms with, and quickly. They were having a child. And that life belonged to both of them.
* * *
Impetuous and brusque. Careless. Hard.
He’d been all those things and more.
Hoyt replayed his kitchen conversation with Reese over and over in his mind as he covered ground in the north pasture on his mustang, Stinkbug. The horse had long outgrown his name—one granted to him by the odd fondness he’d initially had for the small bugs littered around the corral his first summer at Reynolds Station—but the moniker had stuck.
Sort of like Hoyt’s attitude.
What should he have said to Reese? Because clearly a desire to share parenting duties and an offer of marriage weren’t it.
Their conversation at an impasse, the woman had made her excuses and ducked out as fast as she’d come in. He’d thought to follow her—he likely should have—but damn it, he needed some time, too. The baby bomb was a large one, but oddly he’d found himself warming to it almost immediately. It was the other component that had settled more restlessly on his shoulders.
The reality of his child’s mother.
He was having a baby with Reese Grantham.
Hoyt had only ever felt this unsure of himself one other time in his life. The day he had discovered his father’s sins, via a phone call from his brother Ace. That day of discovery—and the sinking reality of what was to come—had been crystal clear. It had upended his life and that of his siblings, and it had forged the man he’d become.
He’d believed the marines, and later special ops, had played that role. Determined to enlist after high school, he’d proudly worn a uniform and happily gone off to basic training. His time on the ranch, both the physical strength it brought and the willingness to follow the routine of tending and caring for animals on a daily basis, had set him up well. His military service and his ultimate selection of something more dangerous yet even more rewarding had honed who and what he already was—a competent, effective leader.
His father’s betrayal had taken all that and turned it on its ear.
It didn’t matter how competent you were; when you stared down the barrel of bad business practices, cheated partners and overall distrust in your product, the world took notice. And they weren’t interested in how many skirmishes you managed or how devoted you were to your fellow soldiers if they had been swindled by a bad deal.
On that day of Ace’s call, Hoyt had understood the gravity of it all, even if he hadn’t been able to put words to it. The ground that he stood on and the life he’d believed he had were gone. And something new had been about to take its place.
Where that time had been fraught with confusion and anger and a lingering shock at his father’s deceit, today was different. Today there was excitement, anticipation and, admittedly, a raw sense of fear that wouldn’t unclench his gut.
A baby.
Someone small and helpless and utterly dependent on him. For shelter and for sustenance and, as he or she grew, for learning all there was to life. An awesome responsibility that, while scary, was far more exciting than he’d ever considered. What he hadn’t considered was what had come next.
A marriage proposal. Scratch that, he amended as he turned Stink toward a small grazing area he knew the horse liked. He’d offered up a ham-handed and clumsy marriage proposal. No wonder the woman had rejected him outright.
What had he been thinking? Unconventional relationship with Reese Grantham or not, people had babies every day. Sometimes that child came into the world with married parents, and sometimes it didn’t. What may have carried a stigma in years past wasn’t nearly the same any longer. Yet the first place his mind had gone was to give his child his name.
Arden would call him a Neanderthal. Was she wrong? Or was something else at play? Questions without answers. Or maybe, he reflected, questions with answers.
Maybe he was a Neanderthal, but he wanted his child. And he wanted that child to have his name. The name Reynolds stood for something. He, Ace, Tate and Arden had seen to that. This land, the ranch and all he was paid tribute to that name.
And he wanted his child to carry it on.
“There you are.”
Tate’s loud greeting floated toward him as Hoyt turned to see his brother silhouetted in the sun. The second of the three Reynolds sons, Tate had always worn life the easiest on his shoulders. As the eldest, Ace carried the responsibility and Hoyt—despite being the youngest son—had never been easygoing or lighthearted. Tate made up for all of it.
The fact that they’d been tussling on the ground a few hours before and now his brother sat easy in his saddle, a broad grin splitting his face, only reinforced that simple fact.
As Tate rode closer, Hoyt gave himself a moment to look. There was a red bruise over Tate’s left eye, heading on toward purple, and even with the easy ride in the saddle, it was obvious his brother favored his right-side ribs. The side, Hoyt remembered, where he’d gotten in a solid punch.
“You look awful damn cheery.”
“I am,” Tate affirmed as he patted his own mount’s neck. “Tot and I felt like a ride and it’s a pretty day for one.”
“It’s beastly hot and if we don’t get back to it, we’ll only have half the herd branded.”
“Ever the cheerful one, little brother. I’d have thought beating on me would have gotten rid of that stick up your ass but clearly I was mistaken.” Tate rode closer. “And I already told everyone to take an extra hour and then we’d get back to it. Everyone seems grateful for the rest. That was until Arden began racing around with full canisters of bug spray and sunscreen.”
Hoyt smiled in spite of himself. “They’re going to be running back toward the cows.”
“Which, I suspect, is all part of Arden’s devious plan,” Tate said with a smile. “Protection from the elements and a team of men anxious to get back to unpleasant work. She’s also promised apple pie for dinner.”
“She did?”
“Yep. She had about a bushel of apples on the kitchen table, which I was more than happy to leave her to.”
Jokes about their family and apple pie. Just like that, Tate had made all that had come earlier vanish. It was easy. Simple.
Forgiven.
It had always been like that with his brother. And without thinking, the words he usually had so much trouble conjuring up spilled from his lips in a rush.
“I’m sorry. About before. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Tate shrugged. “It’s forgotten.”
“Maybe for you, but not for me. You deserve better.”
“Why don’t you talk to me instead?”
“I’m going to be a father.”
Hoyt’s rarely riled brother went stock-still in the saddle before letting out a huge whoop. “Hot damn! How’d you swing that one?”
“The usual way.”
“With Reese Grantham, I suppose.”
“How’d you guess?”
“Tabasco mentioned it by mistake a few weeks ago.”
“Tabasco?” The news was a surprise, as Tabasco Bu
rns was known for his vault-like confidence.
“He was embarrassed about it, too, after he realized Belle and I didn’t know what he was talking about. Mentioned he hadn’t seen you for a while and hoped that it meant you two had hit it off after meeting up at his place a month before that.”
Although he had no interest in being part of the gossip grapevine Reese had mentioned that first night at The Border Line, Hoyt had to admit he was relieved by the source. If Tabasco had said something to Tate, then it wasn’t designed to be malicious. He had to admit equal surprise that Belle and Tate had both hung on to the information for as long as they had.
Tate shot him a side eye before pressing on. “What, exactly, do you have going on with Reese? Besides a child.”
And just like that, his brother had struck at the very heart of the matter.
“Hell if I know.”
“What do you want to have going on with Reese?”
The questions were fair. Even with his decided lack of verbal communication, he’d have asked the same if the positions had been reversed. And yet...
“What are you? Oprah?”
Tate only grinned harder before slapping one of his riding gloves against his leg. “You’d better practice on me, little brother. Because once Arden and Belle get a load of this news, the questions are going to fly fast and furious.”
“It’s none of their business.”
The easy, jovial manner vanished as Tate’s dark green eyes, so like Hoyt’s own, filled with something unmistakable.
Something fierce.
The Reynolds family protected their own and nothing would ever change that.
“This child is their family. Of course it’s their business.”
Once again, with little effort, his brother put him right back in his place. “Okay. I get it.”
“We’re behind you. And we’re here for you.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” Any trace of humor had vanished as Tate stared at him, long and hard. “Because you seem determined to fight every single battle all by yourself.”
“They’re mine to fight.”
Tate shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. By the time a man goes to battle, he needs an army marching right along with him. You have that. Don’t forget it.”
He’d do anything for his family and quickly fell into line as a foot soldier in that Reynolds army Tate spoke of. So why did he find it so hard to accept the support in return?
They sat their horses for several long moments, the animals seeming content to stand in the sunlight, soaking up the day. Both Tate’s mount, Tot, and Hoyt’s own Stink were trained workhorses in addition to being pampered and well-loved pets. Their ability to blend into the family dynamic—and remain unfazed by the tension that refused to lift from Hoyt’s shoulders—was a testament to their training.
But it was Stink’s soft whinny when Hoyt laid a hand on his neck that reinforced the family Tate spoke of.
The child he and Reese Grantham were bringing into the world had a family and a support system just waiting for him or her.
Now it was a matter of convincing Reese of that fact.
* * *
Marriage?
The idea still lingered in her thoughts hours later as Reese scrubbed her kitchen sink to a high polish. She’d read a few pregnancy websites and each had mentioned the nesting phase. But as she attacked the stainless steel with another round of cleaning liquid she admitted this went way beyond nesting.
This was anger, pure and simple.
How had she gotten herself into this situation?
And why, no matter how many different ways she spun it, couldn’t she whip up any sense of remorse or desire to go back and do things differently?
Go back.
How enticing that thought had been, one that had lived with her for the past several months, since her father’s awful crimes had been discovered. What if they could go back and change her brother, Jamie? What if they could go back and be a different family? What if she could have had a different childhood?
Reese had learned a long time ago that what-ifs did little good but, oh, how tempting they were to imagine. Especially in those dark hours between midnight and dawn when questions seemed to be the only thing she had.
She loved her family. Despite all that had happened—every horrifying bit of it—she loved them. But she was also honest enough to admit that she’d change them if she could. Her brother’s illness, one that grew worse and worse as addiction racked his body and his actions. Her father and his twisted inability to deal with the reality of his child’s life.
And her mother.
Had she known? Sensed it somewhere? Abstractly, Reese laid a hand on her stomach. Wouldn’t a mother know every aspect of her child?
Reese flipped on the water, washing the cleaner down the drain. In the end, none of it mattered. Not the questions. Not the memories that lingered and haunted. Not the graves that now sat in the Midnight Pass cemetery, proclaiming the lives of Jamie and Russ Grantham.
If only they could have been different.
If her brother’s decisions had been different.
And if only her father had found justice through the channels he’d been trained to use.
Oh, she understood remorse, and the desire for things to change. Or for things to never have happened. But she didn’t feel the same way about the baby. Nor did she feel that way about its father.
That lone night with Hoyt had played over and over in her mind in those same restless hours before dawn. The simplicity of it all, and the ease with which the two of them had come together. Although not a stranger to sex, she didn’t have a huge repertoire of partners. She considered herself proficient, she thought with a smile, but had never seen herself as a wild woman in bed. Her actions with Hoyt that night suggested otherwise.
Yet even for the casual nature of their coupling, there was a connection. Something deeper. She thought it was just herself, or her memories of their night together, but seeing him again today made her question that. Was there something between them?
And why had he been fighting with his brother over her?
The initial news had surprised her and by the time they got into the discussion over the baby, she’d forgotten to ask. Now it was all she could think about.
The scrubbing at an end, she poured herself a fresh glass of water, adding a few lemon slices she kept in the fridge. It was beastly hot outside but she was sick of her own company and wanted a bit of fresh air. Heading out back, she settled into her favorite lounger on her small screened-in porch. The space welcomed, full of the happy things she liked to surround herself with. Several plants bloomed along the section of the porch that gathered the most morning sun and she flipped on the large paddle fan that kept the air moving even on a day as hot as this one.
The water was cool on her throat as she sipped and took her seat, curling her legs up beneath her. The scent of hot grass wafted through the screens, a reminder she needed to get out and mow this weekend. She was grateful that, other than the bouts of morning sickness, her checkups to date had been excellent. Her pregnancy hadn’t slowed down other aspects of her life and she could easily run the mower around her small patch of land. An hour and she’d be done.
Alone.
Accomplished, but alone all the same.
The thought hit with a thud, reminding her she was no further along in fixing the problems of her life than she had been that morning. Yes, Hoyt knew and that was a start. But there was still the conversation with her mother to be had, then one more with the school. Not to mention all the well-meaning townsfolk who would notice and comment on her growing baby bump.
Let’s change it then. Let’s get married.
Hoyt’s words had raced through her mind, over and over. They comforted and infuriated in equal measure, but at
that moment, the lazy turn of the fan smoothing the air above her, she had to admit they did something else.
They offered a way out.
Was it a path she could take?
Despite her maudlin moments, she was perfectly capable and absolutely prepared to care for her child on her own. She was strong and determined. She had a job and she had her savings if something went sideways.
She could—and would—find her way forward. For both of them.
Reese laid a hand on her stomach. Although she didn’t have a bump yet, she had noticed a thickening in her waistline. She might make it through the first few weeks of school, hiding the evidence with large shirts or flowy dresses, but by homecoming, everyone would know she was pregnant.
The air changed. It was the last thing Reese thought before a deep resonant voice floated toward her through the screen.
“It’s pretty out here. Care for some company?”
Chapter 6
Early evening sunlight filtered through the screens, highlighting Reese in a golden glow. It was still hot—August in Texas was never anything else—but even the heat haze only added to the sense of stillness and contemplation.
That’s how Hoyt found her, her eyes distant and dreamy and her hand pressed protectively over her midsection.
Had he ever seen anything more beautiful?
The spell broken with his greeting, her arm fell to her side as she stood and she gestured him toward the door. “Come on in.”
The afternoon had been as tiring as he expected, so it had been a surprise when he heard himself rejecting the large barbecue dinner their bunkhouse cook had ordered up along with Arden’s apple pie, and headed instead for his room to clean up. Branding cattle was hard work, and it worked up an appetite, yet he found he had none.
Now that he saw Reese, highlighted in that beautiful evening sunlight, Hoyt realized just how wrong he’d been. He did have a hunger—for her.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“No, thank you.”
“You sure? I have some beer in the fridge,” she smiled. “It’s been sitting there and hasn’t had much use.”
