Page 75 of Love Wells Kept

“Let me call them and see when there’s availability.”

My fingers press hard into the tension in my trap muscles, and I roll my neck. “I think I’m having a bit of whiplash, Jackson. Last night you wanted to put more distance between us until you figure out what you want and now…”

Odessa and Rhett come barreling into the kitchen with mud on their hands and smiles on their faces. Their cheeks are pinkened from running around, and Odessa’s hair is noticeably less smooth than it was before she went outside. Only our kids can find a way to go from clean and presentable to looking like feral farm kids in less than a minute.

“Uncle Aus was trying to spray me with the garden hose.” Odessa explains her bedraggled appearance before I even have the chance to ask. “I had to run super fast to get away from him.”

Rhett, on the other hand, clearly couldn’t move as fast. His T-shirt’s drenched and his hair’s plastered to his forehead. His waterlogged shoes make a squishy sound when he walks.

“He sprayed me like he was a firefighter,” Rhett proudly says. Okay, so he didn’t run away, period. “Now I don’t need a bath tonight.”

I laugh. “Nope, definitely still need a bath. Come on, let’s go down to the barn.”

The kids take off at a run. They have two speeds: dragging their feet and sprinting.

Jackson catches my arm when I try to brush past, pads of his fingers pressing into my bicep. “I know what I want, Kate. Knowing what I want has never been a problem…. I’m scared of what I want, because I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to have it.”

“You have it.” I give him a reassuring smile. “You just need to be willing to reach out and grab it.”

At one point when Jackson’s great-grandparents and grandparents ran this ranch, the large whitewashed building not far from the big house was the only barn. With a herd the size of the one the guys run now and a remuda to support the cowboys working only on horseback, we have a few barns and outbuildings spread across the ranch nowadays. But that original barn is where the family still keeps our personal horses.

My stomach clenches at the thought of walking into the barn, and I shove my hands in my pockets to hide the uncontrollable shaking. I can smell the copper aroma of blood in the air, the sound of my own scream rattling through the rafters of the barn, the helicopter’s blades vibrating through every cell in my body.

Rhett grabs hold of my pant leg, tugging the loose denim and leading me down the gravel driveway. A clucking noise out of the side of his mouth pierces through the fog. “C’mon, horsey. Let’s go to the barn.”

With a concentrated effort on breathing, I smile weakly at him. I can’t fall apart and panic in front of my kids. Rhett leads me right into the scene of my nightmares and, in spite of the twisting in my guts, I let out a quiet neigh.

A couple ranch hands are shoeing their horses when we step through the large opening of the main barn. The kids race ahead of us, and Odessa wastes no time locating one of her favorite barn cats, Gregory. I’m pretty certain the massive tabby cat is a girl…but I guess she’s a girl named Gregory. I don’t know where Odessa gets her names from, but this is one I support. The cat looks like a Gregory, somehow.

Horses watch us from their stalls, my boots scuff over the concrete floor, and the smell of drying hay overwhelms my nostrils. Rhett’s using an overturned feed bucket as a table for an imaginary feast of hay shrapnel and bits of gravel.

Odessa packs Gregory the cat around like it’s a stuffed animal, swinging loose below Odessa’s arms yet somehow also squeezed unbearably tight against her chest. She introduces it to Jackson, followed by wildly theatrical introductions to her other barn cats—at least, the ones she can catch.

But when Jackson mentions Banana again, there’s a noticeable shift in Odessa.

“It’s okay. She’s usually way up in the rafters, so it’s going to be too much work.” Odessa shrugs, turning on her heel to leave.

“Well now, hold up. That was the entire purpose of coming down here. Shouldn’t we at least see if she’s around?” Jackson peers around the barn, presumably looking for this elusive cat. “Where does she normally hang out?”

Odessa quietly points to the far side of the barn, and I understand exactly why she doesn’t want to find Banana. Without hesitation, Jackson starts down the alley, dodging a wheelbarrow.

“Dad, don’t,” she pleads, tears welling.

Jackson ignores her, strolling down the alley. Odessa looks to me.

“He’s okay, Dess. It’s safe. Promise.” I grab her hand and put on a brave face.

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to go down there.”

Tears swell and fall down her cheeks, and she blubbers something incomprehensible. Crouching to her level, I pull her into my arms, feeling the weight of her head on my shoulder. Tears soak through the thick fabric of my shirt, and I quietly remind her to breathe.

She’s been seeing a children’s therapist an hour away in Sheridan every other week since Jackson came home, where she apparently spends most of her time yapping about everything but the accident. Regardless, with the way snot and tears are pouring out of her at the thought of stepping into that horse stall, I think we need to make therapy a weekly thing.

Jackson pauses, and turns to look at us, stoic yet curious. “Is she okay?”

At the sound of his sister crying, Rhett comes wandering down the barn alley. He doesn’t know exactly what’s going on but, given the heightened emotions and tension thick in the air, naturally he wants to be in my arms too.

I hold both kids, squeezing tight, before offering Jackson some explanation. “This is where the accident happened. It was just you and Odessa here.”