Breathless (Steel Brothers Saga #10)(54)

That got a giggle out of me. “You’ve never been an ogler.”

“Maybe not. But I can still appreciate male beauty. There’s a lot of it here on the ranch.”

“You’ve hardly left your bedroom for the last couple months.”

“True. But I haven’t always been pregnant. I’ve lived here for almost a year now.”

“Are you kidding? You haven’t had eyes for anyone but Talon since you got here.”

“Okay, you got me. You’re right. But there are plenty of hot young men right here for you to choose from.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Choose one. Go on a date.”

“Who’s going to want to date me?”

“A beautiful ranch heiress? Who isn’t going to want to date you?”

I laughed. A date. What a concept. I hadn’t been on a date in a while. With Bryce, we’d gone straight to bed. No dates. No just having fun being with each other.

I actually missed dating. I wanted to date.

Problem was, I wanted to date Bryce.

I opened my mouth to say as much but was waylaid by my phone. A text. From Talon.

When are you and Jade meeting with Colin?





Chapter Thirty–Four





Bryce





My mother hadn’t questioned my whereabouts last night. She’d made breakfast for Henry and me, smiling.

She smiled more now, thank goodness. After we’d learned the truth about my father, she’d gone into depression. My sweet son had brought her out of it. A one-year-old little boy had done what I, her son, couldn’t. So I’d stepped aside, let her take over with Henry. She needed him more than I did.

I missed him, though. He still smiled and said “Da da” whenever I held him and played with him, but those moments were becoming fewer. I was gone more often, and even when I was here, I was mentally absent. The feeding, the diaper changing, the day-to-day caring had fallen to my mother, who didn’t mind at all.

Not that I would’ve minded.

I’d told myself time and again that this was what was best for my mother because Henry had brought her out of her depression. I’d told myself time and again that it was also best for Henry, since I was not fit to be a father at present.

I wasn’t lying to myself.

But I wasn’t being entirely truthful either.

I missed my son, so much sometimes that I physically ached. He’d become such an integral part of me, and when I was without him, I almost felt like I’d lost a limb. Only that wasn’t even close to the loss I felt.

I wasn’t what Henry needed, though. I was a fucked-up mess, and the last thing I wanted was to turn my son into another fucked-up mess.

A knock at the door startled me. “I’ll get it,” I said to my mother.

Outside, a truck was parked in front of the house, and three men stood wearing brown uniforms. “May I help you?”

“Montgomery packing and moving. Weren’t you expecting us?”

Was I? “No. I’m sorry. We’re not quite ready to pack up yet.”

“That’s what we’re here for. Just go about your business, and we’ll get everything packed up for you. Someone will need to be here, though, to tell us what goes to the new house and what goes into storage.”

My mom came to the door, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Hi, I’m Evelyn. This is my son, Bryce. I’m sorry, honey. They called yesterday while you were…out.”

“Oh.” Being out of the loop was a fact of life for me these days. “Will you be home today?”

“Of course. Where else would Henry and I be?”

A stone hit my gut. Where else indeed? She was here, taking care of my son, while I was…anywhere but here it seemed. “Come on in, I guess.” I held the door open for the three men.

“I’ll show you where to start.” My mom led them into the house.

And just like that, I prepared to leave the only home I’d ever known. I’d lived on my own from time to time—during college and then when I had a job in Denver for a while—but Snow Creek had always seemed like coming home.

I wasn’t actually leaving Snow Creek, only leaving the town to live on a nearby ranch. In a completely furnished guesthouse with four bedrooms and a pool and hot tub in the back.

“Mom,” I said, “the guesthouse is furnished, but I want to take my own bed.”

I wasn’t sure why I said that. My bed was a queen—a ten-year-old queen—and the master bedroom at the guesthouse had that luxurious king-size bed. I was being stupid. In fact, it was stupid to even put my old bed in storage. It should be sold, or better yet, tossed.

“Never mind,” I said to her when she turned to face me. “The bed at the house is better.”

“Anything would be better than your old mattress. It was mine and your fa—” She stopped and hurried away.

The queen mattress had gone into my room when she and my father bought a king.

I looked around the house. We hadn’t yet decided whether to sell or rent. Either way, we’d have a hard go of it. Who would want to buy or rent a house vacated by a psychopathic child rapist?

Maybe we couldn’t get rid of the house, but we could at least get rid of everything my father ever touched. Would that purge us of his evil?