Toben gripped the railing, fighting all the pent-up emotion that had been boiling inside him since Poppy told him the truth. He cleared his throat, swallowed...cleared his throat again. But he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “He took my place. He had the time I should have had. He’s had my son, my family, you... I should be the one taking care of Rowdy, defending your honor, making our son laugh and watching him grow.” He swallowed, his temper warring with the bone-deep grief he felt. “And you let him.” He sucked in a deep breath, the air stinging his empty lungs. “You let him.” He stared at her, knowing there was nothing she could do or say to make this better—but hoping.
Her breathing accelerated, her eyes shadowed in the porch light, but she didn’t say a thing. She looked angry...and sad. “It wasn’t my first choice, him standing in. But...he was there when no one else was.” Her voice shook. “No one.”
What could he say to that? Poppy had always been so damn...independent. Thinking of her alone, needing someone, was hard to imagine. “I didn’t know.”
She nodded slowly. “Neither did I.”
“That’s supposed to make this okay?”
“No. Nothing can make this okay. Nothing can change what happened. I lived it. Alone.” She stared at the door, her voice dropping. “I woke up and you were gone. I’d expected that. But then Rowdy came along and I...I...” She shook her head. “Every day I woke up, looked at my boy and knew you’d chosen not to be a part of his life.”
Her words sliced through him, razor-sharp and enraging. “I. Didn’t. Know,” he ground out.
“You said that. But I tried to reach you. I left messages with everyone that answered your phone.” She smiled, a hard, bitter smile. “And I wrote letters, sent some pictures.” She shook her head. “When I didn’t hear from you, what else was I supposed to think?”
Toben stared out into the night sky, grappling with her words and the overwhelming waves of conflicted emotions crashing into him—again and again. He didn’t remember much about that time. He was too caught up in missing her, too full of pride to hunt her down and too stubborn to let anyone know what he was going through. He’d been a fool. Considering he hadn’t changed much, he was still a fool.
That reality stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to be that man. He wanted to be...better.
He knew, staring at her, his chest heavy and hi
s lungs hungry for air, he’d go back in time if he could. Her words filled him with shame. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her. He didn’t want to look at her and need to hold her close. He didn’t want to wonder what would have happened if she’d woken up with him at her side—if he hadn’t left her in that bed alone.
“It’s late.” She ran her hands down her thighs, anxious.
He didn’t move, didn’t know where to go from here. “I’ll come get you all around six tomorrow?” He wanted Rowdy to see Boone Ranch and meet some of his family. He didn’t want to rush things, he and Rowdy were just getting started. They had time now.
Poppy shook her head, crossing the porch. “Rowdy will be ready. No point in the rest of us going. See you then.” She didn’t look back as she pulled the front door closed behind her.
He stood on the porch, staring at her door, wishing things weren’t so damn difficult. He crossed the yard, catching sight of the wood he’d brought to repair her stalls. “No point in leaving,” he murmured as he climbed into the truck and headed to Poppy’s barn.
Chapter Seven
Poppy held the tie of her rope, shaking all the kinks out of the large loop. She glanced at the kids, all watching her from the porch, and eyed her target. The barrel sat in the middle of the yard, offering her no resistance and no challenge. But if she was going to teach them how to throw a lariat with any confidence, they needed to start small.
Her right hand fed the rope up, coiling it into her left hand until the length was neatly wound and ready for use. She fed a little length into her loop and swung the circle, quick right-to-left spins, before aiming. The rope flew and settled around the barrel with ease.
Three voices cheered from the porch, making her smile and bow. “Who wants to try it?”
The three of them looked at one another.
“Nope,” Dot said, stepping back.
“I’ll try,” Otis said, hesitating before walking to her side.
He was quick, picking up the basics and figuring out how to get the best precision with his hold.
“Looks like you’ve got a little rodeo in you.” She patted Otis’s shoulder when he lassoed the barrel for the third time in a row.
“Rowdy can have a turn now,” Otis said, clearly pleased with himself.
But Rowdy was staring down the road.
Poppy glanced at her watch. It was almost seven and no Toben. No phone call either. She hoped he had a hell of a good reason for disappointing Rowdy. One that didn’t include drinking, a fight or a woman.
Rowdy tried, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was distracted and irritable. By the time the sun was dropping, Poppy resorted to drastic actions.
“Who wants ice cream?” she asked. “Let’s head into town, to the café.”