“I love you India. I do.” He smiled. “Like any father, I only want the best for you. And your boy.”
* * *
DAMMIT ALL, HE’D made eye contact with Woodrow Boone—eye contact. And he didn’t know what to do about it. If he turned around and went back, he’d be doing what India didn’t want—putting Cal in the middle. But driving away, leaving her to deal with her father’s fallout alone, didn’t sit well with him.
He pulled off the dirt road, waited ten minutes, then looped around to park in front of her little cabin. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but finding her sobbing, alone, on her old lumpy couch wasn’t it. His heart broke for her. “What can I do?” he asked, sitting at her side and pulling her in his arms.
“This,” she said, burying her face against his throat.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked. “I’ll listen.”
But she was crying too hard to manage a word. He held her, mumbling nonsense and running his hand down her back until she relaxed against him. When her tears dried up, the words started. He didn’t want to hear any of it, but it all came out. Her father’s desertion and JT’s abuse. That she’d faced it all alone, bouncing between friends from couch to couch, and that she’d spent nights in her truck along the way. Her pride had kept her from returning to Fort Kyle until she’d had no choice.
“He apologized,” she finished, her voice rough. “Now, when I’d come to terms with the fact that he never would. Now, when I’d accepted I was alone.”
“You were never alone,” he ground out. “I would have come running.”
“I did think about it.” Her voice was soft and thick. “But so much time had passed and we’d gone our separate ways without Fort Kyle to keep us together. But I should have known you’ll always be there for me, Brody, even when I try to push you away.”
He closed his eyes, swallowing back all the things he wanted to say to her. Then he gave up. “I know why you push me away.”
“You do?” Her blue-green eyes locked with his.
“You think letting someone in makes you weaker.” He kissed her forehead. “But I’ve got news for you, India Boone. Whether you let me or not, I already love you. I’ve loved you since before I can remember, and I always will.”
The flare of panic in her gaze gave way to tenderness. No, dammit, there was love there—he saw it, knew it and welcomed it with open arms. She could fight all she wanted, her heart had already decided. She loved him. And knowing that had him smiling like a damn fool.
Her hand pressed against his cheek.
He sighed, pressed a kiss against her palm and stared out the small window. Pink and yellow rays peaked over the horizon, signaling the arrival of dawn. He was running out of time—and there was something he needed to do before he could go home to his girls. “I need to get home before the girls realize I’m gone.”
She blinked. “Now?”
“Want me to stay?” he asked.
“No. Yes.” She slid from his lap and stood, looking at him.
“You don’t have to know anything. Not yet. For now, put your worries aside and rest.” He squeezed her hands, letting her fingers slide from his, as he made his way to her door. He paused then, smiling at her. “Everything is going to be okay, you know that?”
She stiffened, nodding. “Yes.”
That was what she did, acted tough—to prove she didn’t need anyone. Even when she did.
“Good.” He winked and headed outside. It was a good morning, crisp and full of promise. He drove down the dirt road to the main house, parked and cursed himself for a damn fool. If he had to beg Woodrow Boone, he would. Since he didn’t have time to shower and clean up, he shook the wrinkles from his shirt, tucked himself in and adjusted his belt. There wasn’t much he could do about the stubble on his jaw, but he was otherwise presentable.
What he had to say to Woodrow Boone wouldn’t take long, but he didn’t want to wait.
The main lodge was waking up, servers setting the table with fresh linens and the slight kitchen noises that promised a big breakfast buffet for the dude ranch’s guests.
“Brody Wallace?” Mrs. Boone saw him first. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see your husband, Mrs. Boone. I know it’s early, but I was hoping he’d be up.” Somehow, he doubted Woodrow had come back from India’s place and gone to bed. Likely he was all fired up and agitated over what she’d told him.
She glanced around, growing nervous. “May I ask why you’re here? Now? Before he’s had his coffee.” Her smile grew tight as her husband walked into the room, Scarlett close behind.
“Good morning,” he said. “Scarlett.”
“Hi, Brody,” she stammered, glancing from her father to him and back again. “You’re here bright and early.”