Page 56 of The Cowboy and the Baby

I turned to look at her.

“Do what?”

“Teach Cody and Wyatt?”

“I suppose I don’t. If you want it done faster, I could do?—”

She held up a hand. “No, no, it’s fine. I just . . . after Wyatt and Cody spoke about their different parents and foster care, and then you coming along to take them in, I was just curious. The dynamic of your relationship with them is . . . sweet. Like an older brother.”

Her statement was more searching than not. I couldn’t blame her questions. History lay between Cody, me, and his mother. Wyatt’s case was far more straightforward, but no less sad. Both of his parents died, leaving him at the mercy of a rotten old drunk grandfather. That’s when I stepped in. Both were troubled youths with nowhere to go except the foster system, or here.

I remembered trying to dodge the system, to keep Cora safe. Remembered longing for someone to step up and be the adult instead of me. Thankfully, no one showed up for us, which allowed me to keep Cora and raise her myself. I lost my childhood, but she kept hers, and that’s what mattered.

To Cody and Wyatt, I was equal parts father-figure and big brother. I loved those two idiots in ways I didn’t know love could happen.

But how to explain that?

“Wyatt needed a father,” I said finally, summarizing it as best I could. “He was going to end up in prison or juvenile detention if someone didn’t step in. So I did. Your grandpa was fine with it, because he trusted me to deal with him and we needed help, but didn’t have money at the time. Cody came along next, only a few months later. It was rough at first, making the boys understand that I was in charge and that my word was my bond. Eventually, they understood that I’d never hurt them, raise my voice to them, or leave. At that point, they accepted.”

Noelle's curiosity had softened to genuine warmth.

“But things are better now?”

Laughing, I said, “Wyatt still has his moments, but he’s much calmer. It’s easier for him with Cody here. Wyatt was wild. They had a hard time controlling him and his temper.”

She seemed to absorb both stories.

“Does Cody have contact with his parents?”

“Cody visits his mother every month, on the first Sunday. He eats dinner with her, and he visits his dad every year at Christmas, and sometimes on his dad’s birthday. His dad is in prison,” I added.

She nodded, lips rounded into an O. “They needed you.” Her additional comment was clearly spoken, non-emotional, but somehow packed with meaning. I met her eyes, sensing that what she sought from this conversation had little to do with Wyatt, Cody, or curiosity.

“Do you always take in the lost and stranded who need help? Are you always the hero, Cade?”

Her question lacked sarcasm or teasing, only a soulful curiosity that made me nervous. No, not nervous. Vulnerable. Like she tore open a cabinet that housed every insecurity. How to respond? Words tied me into knots, so I said the only thing I could.

“If I could have helped my mom, I would have. But I can’t now, couldn’t then, so helping others seems like the next best equivalent.”

A flash of tears appeared in her eyes. Her voice gained a husky note. “Cade, if I bring Lily’s paternal grandparents here, they’re going to draw conclusions about you and me. They’re going to . . . know . . . about your life. You’ll lose some of this privacy. I see how approaching them head-on could be powerful and helpful for me and Lily,” she quickly added, swiping the almost-falling tears free. “But it may be a responsibility that isn’t yours to take. You could get dragged into something that goes for years.”

“Who said I didn’t want some responsibility for you and Lily?” I asked quietly.

The words fell like bombs. Stunned, Noelle blinked. I’d taken her aback, and myself too. What had I just done?

Staked my claim, that’s what. And I had no idea how she’d take it.

The shot of panic that gelled in my veins rooted me to the spot. All we did was stare for a full five seconds while the color restored to her features again. Confusion and questions filled her eyes like smoke.

“Cade, I?—”

“Hold on, Noelle. I’m not . . . that is . . . all I’m trying to say is that I would love for you and Lily to stay here. You’re not an imposition. You’re good for Cody and Wyatt, you’re helpful to me, and this is your grandfather’s house. I’m not here to rip it from your family. There’s plenty of space.”

“Yes, we’ve established this, but?—”

I held up a hand.

”—but,” I said gently, “you’re worrying entirely too much about me when you should be thinking about Lily and yourself. I can handle myself, my reputation, and Lily’s grandparents. I don’t care what conclusions they draw. I care about Lily, about you, and about what’s best for both of you. They’re just people from out of town. Who cares?”