Page 53 of The Cowboy and the Baby

Was I a leech on society now?

With a firm, No, I reigned those spiraling thoughts under control. I absolutely wasn’t a leech. I was a single mother mourning her twin sister and her old life. That seemed entirely fair and plausible. If not still a little bit outrageous.

I didn’t need Cade. I wanted him, and the gulf between the two was massive.

If Cade kicked me out, I’d go straight to Marsha. She’d provide a place to stay, and it would be fine. Not great. Not easy. But fine. If my aunt and uncle didn’t take me—which they would—then I’d dip into savings, find an apartment, and figure out a job situation.

I had this.

Plans existed. Frameworks. Some safety.

It just didn’t feel like that at six in the morning, bathed in darkness, and unsure of where I belonged in the world.

Until I opened my eyes and saw Lily staring at me. Through the dim illumination coming from the kitchen, we made eye contact again. I smiled, and her hand waved toward me. She didn’t look for long, but enough that I recalled what Cade said days ago.

She knows you.

I gripped one of her flailing fists and softened like melting butter.

What was I thinking? Of course I knew where I belonged. Right here. With Lily. That would never change. Wherever we lived, we were in this together. Forever. Whatever I had to do to figure it out, I would.

“We’re in trouble, Lily,” I whispered, rubbing my bleary eyes with my palm. Because what I felt for Cade after my meltdown the night before went deeper than explanation. His instant protectiveness, the real frustration in his stare, hadn’t been conjured. He felt it for us. Knowing it emboldened something inside of me.

Lily squawked. While I carefully moved the bottle and sat her up, she gave a delicate belch that made me laugh.

“You are the cutest baby on the planet, little girl.” My lips pressed to the side of her temple. “And you belong to me forever, no matter what Sarah Miller has to say about it.”

Hot coffee, butter biscuits, crisp bacon, and cool jam awaited the boys when they tromped inside. Making breakfast for them had become an unstated requirement. They came, I provided. The daily routine was a balm to my soul, and I was thrilled at the joy their dynamic brought into the house, particularly during these low-lit winter days.

While Cody and Wyatt stumbled in, Cade barked something from behind. They paused their joking, lifted their hats off their heads, and each said in turn, “Morning, Miss Noelle.”

I hid my laugh.

“Morning, boys. Gravy is almost ready. Food is on the table, so have a seat and warm up.”

They hung up their coats while Cade sent me an assessing stare. I hadn’t seen him since I went to bed, and he looked as mussed as me. Tired, but clear-minded based on his intent perusal of my face. Who could blame him? Last time he entered the house, I had a meltdown because of a squirrel.

I gave him a little smile, and he relaxed.

“I’m telling you,” Wyatt said, leaning back in his chair, “I have a chance at nationals.”

Cody scoffed.

“Don’t be a di?—”

Cade whacked him on the back of the head, barked, “Lady present,” and Cody finished with a sputtering, “—phead, Cade. I was going to say diphead.”

“Sure you were.”

Cade shucked his coat, laid it in front of the fire like the other two, but made his way toward the sink. As he washed his hands, he asked, “How can I help?”

“It’s all ready, just grabbing forks.”

“Where’s Lily?”

“In her bouncer.”

“Can I hold her?”