Her Cowboy's Triplets (The Boones of Texas 7)

India stayed where she was, watching his breathing steady and slow in sleep. Tanner’s soft snore filled the still room. She smiled, patted Tanner on the side and left, leaving the door partially cracked.

“You okay, Dad?” she asked, wanting to get this over with.

He nodded. “I’d planned on coming over here to make peace. You know, tell you how damn proud I am of you for working so hard and doing such a good job with Cal. And you are—he’s a good boy.”

She was dreaming. Surely. “Thank you,” she managed, even though it sounded more like a question.

“But then I see something that tells me my feelings still don’t matter to you.” He pushed off the couch. “Brody Wallace?” He cleared his throat. “What did I do to make you hate me, India?”

“I don’t hate you.” She was in shock. “Dad, I’ve never hated you.”

“You certainly don’t like me. That much is clear. You have that man here, on my property—property his father accuses me of stealing.” He shook his head. “It seems to me your choice in men hasn’t improved with time. And, like last time, you’re picking the person I like the least.”

She couldn’t decide which was greater—her anger or her incredulity. Did he really believe she’d picked Brody just to get to him? Or that Brody and JT could be lumped into the same category? Yes, they were both men. But, as far as India could tell, that was the only thing they had in common. JT was an embarrassment to mankind. Brody a shining example of what a man should be.

“Was it because I wouldn’t come get you when your marriage started to fall apart?” her father asked, sincerely puzzled. “You still hold that against me?”

“You’re asking?” she asked.

“I thought I just did.”

She drew in a steadying breath. If he was asking, she would answer him. Even if it was hard for both of them to hear. “Hold it against you? No, Dad. Does it still hurt? Yes. I didn’t want to call you. I knew how you felt about JT, I knew you hadn’t forgiven me for marrying him. But...I was scared and I needed help. So I called, hoping you’d help me—angry or not.” His dismissive refusal had been salt in the wound, but she’d refused to beg.

“Scared?” he asked, frowning. “I’ve never done a thing to make you afraid of me, India.”

“Not you, Dad.” She avoided his gaze then. “JT. I was afraid of JT. You were right. He was a bad man. But you made me figure it out on my own, helped me grow stronger—for me and Cal. I needed that.”

The silence grew heavy and thick, pressing in on her until she had no choice but to look at him. There were tears in his eyes. Her big, loud, opinionated father was crying for the first time in her life. “What are you saying?” The question was a whisper, raw and broken and anguished.

“Nothing that matters now,” she mumbled.

But her father continued to stare at her until she was crying, too.

“I didn’t know, India. How could I have known?” he asked.

She shook her head, wiping the tears from her face. “How could I tell you? I was ashamed by what he did to me. I could

n’t listen to how, somehow, it was my fault. It was hard enough without hearing that from you.”

“Oh, India.” He hugged her awkwardly. “No, no, baby girl. No.” He sniffed, his arms shaking around her. “I called you two days later, so mad at the things I’d said. But your phone was disconnected. I thought you were shutting us out—”

“No, Dad, Cal and I were...getting away.”

“That bastard never deserved you. No man should lay a hand on you. Not ever, you hear me? It’s not your fault. No, ma’am.” His voice broke. “I should have... I should have... Your mother says I never shut the hell up and listen. She’s right. Dammit all, she’s right. India, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She held on to her father then, needing his arms around her.

“You’ve never embarrassed or shamed me, India. Never. I was hurt and acted like a damn fool. You were so determined to leave home, so determined to do it on your own. You didn’t want or need me, and I didn’t know how to stand by and do nothing.” He shook his head. “I let my temper get a hold of me. But I swear to you, it won’t happen again. I’m old, I’m loud and I’m damn opinionated. But you’re my baby girl, and I will always love you. Even when I’m being an ass. I’m sorry you ever doubted that.”

She stared up at her father through her tears, the cracks in her heart shrinking.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’m too beat to talk more. But, I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. I’m sorry for being so damn pigheaded and selfish, sometimes.” He stepped back, wiping a hand across his face. “But we will talk about the Wallace boy, you hear me?”

She nodded.

“Good,” he said, heading toward the door. “Now, you get some sleep while Cal’s resting and I’ll see you later on.”

She nodded again, words sticking in her throat and making it hard to breathe.