Envy flickered through her.
"Zoey." Brody tapped her kayak.
"What?"
"You deserve love as well. Everyone does. No matter how screwed up you are, no matter how many bad decisions you’ve made, no matter how much carnage you've left strewn behind you, no matter what an asshole you are…you still deserve to be happy."
Tears filled her eyes, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. "You're such a romantic."
He shook his head. "I believe in survival. And you can't survive without love."
"And excellent baked goods," Keegan said. "Everyone needs dessert."
She burst out laughing. "Dessert?"
"Yeah. Sugar heals all wounds." There was the slightest edge to Keegan's voice, and Zoey wondered if he believed as strongly as Brody that there was someone out there for him. What was his story? And Brody's? And all the rest of their siblings? Her heart ached for all of them, for all the pain they'd endured, and probably still did, because she knew the past would always be a shadow haunting all of them.
But maybe, just maybe, the shadow could fade.
Zoey suddenly noticed lights on the bank of the river, and she realized they had floated almost all the way back to the house while they'd talked. Sadness drifted through her. She didn't want to go back inside. Being with Keegan and Brody made her feel less alone, and she wasn't ready to let it go, to go back into her own mind and her own thoughts. There was something about being outside, on the water, that soothed her spirit.
"What are you going to do?" Keegan asked. "About art and Ryder? Find a job using your art?"
Longing rushed through her, but she shook her head. "I need money. I have to find a job soon. I have no training in art. No one would ever pay me for it. And I have to find my own space before I can share myself with him, or anyone."
Both Harts were quiet for a moment, and she looked over at them. "What? You think I'm stupid not to just run for him and beg him to take me? Because I can't do that."
Brody shrugged. "No. It sounds like you know what you need to do, then."
Zoey frowned at him. "You just told me not to give up on a chance for love."
"Are you giving up? Or are you taking the path that you need to follow to get you there?"
She frowned at him. "I don't know."
Keegan tapped her kayak with his paddle. "If you need time to sort stuff out, you can always come to Oregon. We have a huge ranch, and our brothers and sisters would be thrilled to meet you."
She stared at him. "Move to Oregon?"
"Sure. There's always a space for you there if you want it," Keegan said as his kayak bumped against the shore. "To us, family isn't about blood ties, obviously. It's about the soul. And you're family. We take care of each other, including you."
Brody nodded. "There's always a space there for you, Zoey. A spare room, plenty of food. You can take whatever time you need."
Her throat tightened. "That's a beautiful offer." She could tell they meant it. Oregon? She'd never considered it. But something about it called to her. It gave her hope. "Maybe."
Keegan nodded. "We're heading back on Monday evening. You can come with us then, or we can send the jet back for you whenever you want."
She blinked. "The jet? You have a private jet?"
Brody grinned. "Not bad for a bunch of homeless kids, right?"
She smiled back, her heart suddenly feeling lighter. "Not bad at all," she agreed. If the Harts could go from being homeless street kids to a big, solid family with a freaking private jet, then why couldn’t she find her own way as well?
The Harts had given her hope by showing her their path, a path that had started in loneliness and desperation, and ended up with a bunch of loyal siblings and a private jet.
She grinned at them as her kayak bumped gently against the shore. "Thanks, guys. Tonight helped."
They both grinned at her, looking deeply satisfied. "You got it, sis," Brody said.
Keegan held out his hand. "Want some help out?"
She grinned. "Sure." She took his hand and started to stand…and then Keegan grinned and gave a hard yank to the left. She screeched as the kayak rolled, dumping her on her ass in the water.
Water streamed down her face as she tried to glare at him, but his eyes were sparkling with such mischievousness, that she burst out laughing. "You're in such trouble, Keegan."
He blinked innocently. "Never. It was a total accident—" Before he could finish, Brody snuck up behind him and swept his feet out from under him in one swift move that wound up with Keegan down in the water beside her.
Both brothers were laughing now, and she realized that this was how they'd survived. Creating joy in whatever way, whatever moment they could.
Brody held out his hand to her, still laughing. "My brother's an ass. Want some help up?"
She smiled. "No thanks. I got this."
And she knew she did.
Because for the first time in a long time, she felt like she actually had a chance.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sunday evening, Ryder pulled up in front of Dane's house for the second time in less than a week. It was almost nine, not as late as last time.
After he turned off the engine, however, he didn't move. He just sat in his truck in the driveway, staring up at the house.
He'd wanted to drive right home to see Zoey, but he hadn't been able to make himself do that. He'd spent the last thirty-six hours thinking a lot about Zoey, Boston, and Dane's absolute conviction that Ryder would destroy her.
Destroying her wasn't an acceptable option.
Chase believed he was good for her.
Dane believed he'd destroy her.
He didn't know what to think anymore.
But he had to know before he walked back into that house and saw her. If he was going to fight for her, for them, he had to know, without a doubt, that it was the right decision for both of them.
He had to be certain.
After a long moment, he opened the door and got out. His legs felt heavy as he walked up the stairs and knocked on the front door.
It was Jaimi who answered, holding little Justin in her arms. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Hey, Ryder. It's good to see you. What's up?"
He gave her a quick hug. "Is Dane here?"
"No, he's out on a call. Why?"
He swore. "Nothing." He started to turn away, but stopped when Jaimi put her hand on his arm.
"Ryder."
He turned back toward her. "What?"
"Dane told me what happened at your house yesterday morning."
He nodded once.
"Was Zoey really upset?"
He shrugged. "It wasn't a real feel-good moment," he admitted. "She feels like Dane has been rejecting her for a long time."
"Damnit. I'm so sorry to hear that." Jaimi sighed. "I really enjoyed meeting her and hanging out the other night. She has a beautiful soul."
He smiled. "That she does. I'm glad you two were finally able to get together. I know it was hard for her."
"I could tell, but she got through it, and it was a great night." Jaimi cocked her head. "Do you love her?"
He sucked in his breath at the unexpected question. "What?"
"Do you love her?"
He cleared his throat. "Dane thinks—"
"I know what Dane thinks. That's not what I'm asking. Do you love her?"
He stared at the wall behind her, gritting his teeth. "Yes." The tension dissolved from his body the moment he admitted it, putting it out there into the world, his deep, dark secret that he hadn't been able to shake for ten years. "Yes, I love her. Completely."
She beamed at him. "Then ignore Dane."
He looked at her. "Really?"
Jaimi shifted her baby to her other shoulder. "Dane is a beautiful man, Ryder. You know that. But he carries a tremendous amount of guilt over his parents' death. He has tried to make the pain go away by protecting Zoey. It's not about you. It's about trying to undo his past. Like you, he's a p
rotector, and in his heart, he feels he failed, both his parents and Zoey."
Ryder closed his eyes briefly, his chest heavy for his friend. "He never said anything."
She shrugged. "He's just now beginning to understand it." She grinned. "Sometimes it takes a woman to sort out you men."
Ryder leaned against the doorframe. "My past is a hell of a lot darker than his, Jaimi. I don't want to bring that down on Zoey—"
"Uncle Ryder!" Jaimi and Dane's daughter, Emily, came sprinting down the hall. She took a flying leap at Ryder, and he caught her easily, swinging her around while she shrieked with laughter.
"Hey, shortcake." He chuckled when she pulled his hat off his head and set it on hers. "What have you been up to?"
She looped her arms around his neck. "Did you see the new foal over at the barn? I've been taking care of it with Chase. He's showing me what to do."
"There's a baby over there?" Ryder was surprised. He hadn't spent much time at the ranch since Chase had taken over. Were they breeding horses now? He felt a stab of guilt that he'd stayed away from the ranch, even though it had started to become a family compound since Chase had bought it. Zane, Travis, Steen, and Maddox had all joined Chase on the property with their wives and kids, but Ryder had stayed away.
He, Logan, and Quintin were the only holdouts who weren't living there. Plus Caleb, but no one had heard from him for years. Chase was adamant that they'd hear from Caleb again someday, but Ryder was a little worried. It had been too long, and the silence had been so complete.
Since the Stocktons had started taking over the ranch that had once been their salvation when they'd been kids, and the property had been owned by Ol' Skip, Ryder had kept his distance. He knew Chase had hired him for the new barn to try to draw him back in, but Ryder had kept his focus on building the new barn, carefully keeping a distance so he didn't get pulled back into the world that haunted him so badly.
Apparently, it had worked well enough that he didn't even know they had babies at the barn…and that felt weird to him, to not know what his family was up to. How much had he missed out on by keeping his distance?
Emily hit his chest, drawing his attention back to the moment. "You have to come see her! She's so cute! I named her Moana. Come tomorrow and see her! We're having a picnic at the ranch, and you can meet her."
A picnic? Hmm… "Who's coming?"
"It's just sort of grown organically since Monday is a holiday, but I think everyone is coming now," Jaimi said. "It would be great if you'd come."
He wanted to join them. That fact surprised him, but it also felt good.
"Uncle Ryder?" Emily poked his jaw. "Promise you'll come?"
He grinned. "Yes, I promise I'll come."
"Yay!" She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, then put his hat back on his head, leapt down, and raced back upstairs singing what sounded like the newest Taylor Swift song. "Bye!"
"See ya, kiddo!" Ryder was grinning when he looked back at Jaimi, who was watching him with a bemused smile on her face. "What?"
"My kids adore you."
He nodded. "They're great kids."
"They are great kids," she agreed. "They're also smart kids, and they know who's worth their time." She cocked her head. "And as I said, they adore you. Go figure, right?"
At that moment, the baby woke up. He blinked sleepy eyes at Ryder, then his face lit up and he extended his arms to Ryder.
Jaimi immediately handed Justin to him. "Ryder Stockton. Baby whisperer."
Ryder took the baby and lifted him high, grinning at the goofy gurgles of laughter echoing from that tiny body. "What do you think, kid?"
Jaimi folded her arms over her chest, watching them. "Ryder," she said, her voice gentle. "You're a good man. Dane knows it. He's just struggling right now with the fact that Zoey has come home. He feels like he failed her. It's not about you. He loves you."
Ryder looked over at her. "That's not the issue, Jaimi."
She raised her brows. "He trusts you with his children. What stronger statement is there than that?"
"If he trusted me with his sister."
She let out her breath and nodded. "In time." But there was a faint hint of doubt in her voice, and he knew that Dane might never, ever come around to believing Ryder was worthy of his sister.
Maybe it was because of his own guilt. And maybe it was because of Ryder.
But either way, it was clear: he would not be able to get Dane's blessing, or his belief that Ryder was good for Zoey.
Silently, he handed the baby back to Jaimi. "I need to go."
She tucked Justin against her hip. "What are you going to do?"
He took a breath. "I don't know."
She nodded. "Trust your heart, Ryder. It will show you the way."
He gave her a quick hug, knowing damn well that his heart was ripping him apart, not laying down a well-lit yellow brick road for him. "Maybe. Give Em a kiss for me."
She nodded, stepping back to make room for him to leave.
When he got in his truck, Jaimi was still standing in the doorway. She and little Justin were watching him, cast in the soft yellow glow of the light by the front door. Something inside his chest turned over at the sight. He wanted someone to stand there like that for him when he drove into his own driveway.
And he wanted it to be Zoey.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Ryder got home, he found Zoey sitting in the family room, surrounded by the painting supplies he'd given her.
She had headphones on, and didn't turn around when he walked in, so he paused in the doorway, watching her.
She was sitting with her back toward him, perched on a bar stool she'd placed in front of the easel. She'd set up a card table beside her, and her paints and brushes were arranged in haphazard order. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she was wearing cut-off shorts and an oversized gray sweatshirt. He recognized it as one of his, and he smiled at the thought that she'd gone into his room to get it.
Her hand was resting on her thigh as she studied her painting, and he could see bright blue paint on the end of the brush. His heart turned over. She was painting again. The easel was angled away from him just enough that he couldn't see what was on it, but it didn't matter.
She was painting again.
She was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made all the darkness inside him fade away, until all that was left were feelings of hope, potential, and light. His need for her was so strong that it actually made his chest cramp.
He didn't just love her.
He loved her, every single part of her soul, her body, and her spirit.
Was that enough? Was the fact he loved her so deeply enough? Did it make him worthy of her? Would it make her happy, the kind of soul-deep happy that she deserved?
She turned suddenly, as if she'd heard him, and he was shocked to see tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Shit." He hurried over to her. "Hey, ZoeyBear, what's wrong?"
She pointed at the canvas as she pulled off her headphones. "Look what I painted."
He glanced at the canvas, and then swore. She'd painted the house that she'd grown up in, before her parents had died and she'd had to move in with her aunt and uncle. She'd captured it with incredible vividness and passion, and he could feel the energy almost vibrating off the canvas...including the wrecked pickup truck she'd painted in the front lawn.
The car that her parents had died in.
"Oh, baby." He wanted to pull her into his arms, but she was holding her body stiffly, so he sat down beside her on the arm of the couch.
"Every time I paint, I paint pain," she said. "Art used to be my respite, and now it's just pain." The tears were still trickling down her cheeks. "I need to create, Ryder. I need to paint. But it's not the same anymore. It feels like it's just going backwards into the past, when I need to move forward into the future." She looked down at the brush. "This isn't mine anymore," she said quietly. "It's not me, not the me I need to become."
&nb
sp; He nodded. "Okay."
She held out the brush. "Take it."
He lifted it from her hand and set it on the table.
Zoey watched him do it, and as he set it down, she felt a deep relief rush through her, as if she were finally letting go of something that had been weighing her down for so long. "Thanks."
"Sure." He hesitated, and then nodded at the painting. "Want to talk about it?"
She looked over at the painting she'd been staring at for hours. "I don't know why I painted it. I just started painting, and it just happened." She brushed her finger over the truck, smearing the paint. "At first, I was so happy I was painting again… And then I painted pain."
"Did you?" He indicated the front porch. "This part isn't pain. This part, the home, the yard, the porch, those are good memories, right?"
"It started out good until I killed it with the truck." She bit her lip. "Every time I'm happy, it twists into pain. Like the other morning, when I was so happy with you, then Dane came in with his rant. Then I start painting earlier today, and I wind up with this. I was so proud of my accomplishments at Harvard, and then I chose a husband who was a douchebag."
He chuckled slightly, and she couldn't help but smile a tiny bit at his amusement. "He is a douchebag," she said.
"I know." Ryder rested his palm on the arm of the couch. He looked relaxed and muscular, and so freaking tempting. His cowboy hat was tipped back, his shoulders were so broad and strong, and his forearms were sinewy strength. He looked like a cowboy god, actually.
"God, you're so beautiful," she whispered. "You're like one of those Greek statues, only you're actually hot."
He grinned. "Thank you, my dear." He cocked an eyebrow. "Paint me."
A thrill raced through her. "You? I can't. I don't paint people—"
He tossed his hat on the couch behind him and pulled off his shirt, revealing ripped abs, sculpted pecs, and the same shoulders she'd spent half the night digging her fingernails into. "You need to create art, right? So, the human body is the highest form of art."
She was surprised by how much she wanted to take him up on his offer. He was so beautiful, a perfect specimen on both the outside and inside, and the man who had held her up so many times for so long. "What if I paint you being mauled by a grizzly? I'm pretty sure I just finished telling you how I ruin everything good. So, what if I paint all those luscious parts of you strewn across a forest clearing in a pool of bloodied remains?"
A Real Cowboy Always Trusts His Heart Page 16
