Page 101 of Savage Heart

“How is your mom?”

The question catches me off guard. “She’s got dementia. Some days are better than others. Sometimes she’s actually sweet, but it can flip suddenly, and then she’s more . . . herself.”

“I’m sorry,” he says simply. “But I can’t say I’m sorry that you don’t live with her anymore.”

“Yeah.” I laugh softly. “Can’t say I am either.”

“You think he’d want to fish?” Maverick asks, nodding toward Linc.

“I’m sure he’d like to try.”

After he finishes eating, Maverick moves toward the small shed nearby and brings out fishing rods and a tackle box. He goes back in and comes out with a bucket.

“Teddy keeps worms out here at all times,” he says, lifting the bucket.

Linc runs over, looking excited until he sees the wriggling worm. He glances over at me and pulls a face, making me laugh.

“Okay,” Maverick says, bending down to Linc’s level with patience.

It makes my chest ache. I can’t help but wish he’d grown up with his dad in his life.

“First things first,” Maverick is saying. “You gotta thread it on like this, nice and secure, so the fish don’t steal it without biting.”

Linc’s eyes go round, his nose wrinkling when he touches the worm. “Gross,” he says.

Maverick dangles one in his face, and Linc lets out a shrill squeal, which cracks us all up. Linc clears his throat and shakes his head.

“Forget that happened,” he says in his lowest voice. “Okay, okay, I got this.” He braces himself before reaching out and taking the worm, and he threads it on the hook just like Maverick showed him.

He holds up the pole triumphantly, even as he wipes his hand quickly on his jeans.

“See? You’re a pro already,” Maverick says. “Now cast it out like this.”

Maverick demonstrates, his line sailing through the air, and Linc tries to copy his form.

I can imagine Lincoln out here, trying to do the same. Knowing Lincoln, he probably would’ve chased Linc around with the worm.

He was taken from us too soon.

The elation when Linc catches a fish is contagious. And then it’s hilarity all over again when Maverick shows him how to get the fish off the hook. Linc does it, but he also gags while touching the fish. I don’t know how he manages to get it in the bucket with how he shudders in disgust.

Later, we chat quietly while Linc and Pickle play . . . until the weather cools. The last rays of the setting sun filter through the trees, and we ride back. I’d forgotten just how beautiful it is on the ranch. Linc chatters happily, recounting the funny things Pickle did in the river, and Maverick rides beside me, our glances catching on each other longer than they should.

It’s been a perfect day—uncomplicated, full of laughter and sweet moments. A rare sense of peace rests in my chest. Lady moves beneath me like an extension of myself, and for once, the weight of the past feels a little lighter.

We reach the barn as twilight settles in, staying out longer since someone else is feeding the horses today. We dismount and unsaddle the horses, and Linc helps rub them down, his hands mimicking Maverick’s.

“You’ve gotten really good at this,” I tell him.

“Next time you’ll have to see what they do when I feed them now.” Linc grins proudly.

Pickle flops down in the hay next to Linc, exhausted and content. I hug Lady goodbye, whispering that I’ll be back to see her, and still in disbelief that I can say that.

Once everything’s put away, we walk to our car.

“See you tomorrow, Maverick. Thanks for the fun day,” Linc says, climbing in the car.

“See you then,” Maverick says. “And I should be thanking you.”