“Daddy, we’ll discuss this more after you and Chance have eaten something.”
Sam shot Chance a wide-eyed look.
“I’ve learned one thing recently, Sam. When your daughter is determined, best to do as she says.”
Her father nodded, never one to need much encouragement where eating was concerned, and the two men tucked into their breakfasts. Before Libby sat down, she fed Cowboy in the mudroom, as he’d come in only after the voices had quieted. Smart cat, she thought as she scooped up a handful of nuggets. After giving the cat a pat as he gobbled up his meal, she returned to the kitchen and sat down between the two men.
It didn’t take long for breakfast to disappear and coffee cups to drain. Surprisingly, her father kept the conversation light, asking Chance about the ranch, its size, how many horses he could run on it, how bad the winters were, and if the land flooded.
Chance answered him as if Sam were a neighbor who had just dropped in for a chat and not the man who had so dramatically changed both of their lives. She could have kissed him for that alone.
But it was just a lull in the inevitable storm that had been brewing for five years, or maybe a lifetime. Not between Chance and Sam, but between her and her father.
She’d hoped Chance would excuse himself after he finished off his plate, but he’d stretched out his legs, crossed his arms, and settled back in the kitchen chair, waiting, as she was, for Sam to scrape his plate clean.
Once he had, Libby lost no time.
“Why did you come here, Daddy, if you knew Ben and I had broken up?”
Her father’s eyebrows arched in unison. “To change your mind, talk some sense into you.” He speared Chance with a narrow-eyed glance. “The question is, baby girl, why did you come here?”
She took a deep breath. Chance shifted in his seat. “I thought I was coming here because I owed Chance something, and he needed help—”
“You don’t owe this fellow—”
Chance bent forward as if to comment, but Libby held up her hand. Chance would not fight this battle. This was hers to win or lose.
“Stop right there, Daddy. You’ll listen to my answer when you ask a question, and you’ll answer my questions when I ask them. That’s the deal, or there is no discussion.”
Chance let go of a chuckle. She shot him a look she hoped would cure him of that tendency. She was serious, and both men had better treat her as such.
Her father gnawed on his lip before answering. “Fair enough,” he finally said.
“As I said, I thought I came because I owed Chance something. But the truth…one I only realized once I got here, was that I came because I wanted something from Chance.”
Sam rested his elbows on the table. Chance ran his hand through his hair as if uncomfortable with what she was going to say. Too bad. She was done with running. Of just letting things happen. She was taking things into her own hands. Maybe too late, but—
“Exactly what was that? He signed the damn affidavit.”
Could she say it out loud? For a split second, her nerve shriveled like a plant denied water, but when she looked at Chance and saw the questions in his eyes, she knew he deserved the truth. Even if it was said in front of Sam. “I wanted Chance’s forgiveness. And his love.”
“Libby…” Chance began, straightening in his seat like a rod had been shoved down his back.
She’d said it. She owned it.
“I know I can’t have either. I’ll have to deal with that,” she said, addressing Chance and hoping that no one noticed the quiver caused by a suddenly dry throat. “But that’s the real reason I’m here. And the real reason I can’t be with Ben, Daddy. I don’t love him. I love Chance. Say what you want. Rant and rail as much as you want—that’s the truth of the matter.”
For a second, Sam looked like someone had hit him with a stun gun. He didn’t move, just sat there gaping. But it didn’t take long for him to recover. She knew it the moment his fingers started drumming on the table.
“You don’t love her, do you, Chance?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Libby. “The boy doesn’t love you. You’re throwing away a future for some wrong-headed romantic fantasy.”
Libby’s chest felt heavy as she fought to breathe, like she’d been pulled under a wave and was struggling to surface.
“What I do or don’t feel for Libby is between her and me, Sam.” Chance spoke in a slow, deliberate tone, more cautioning than threatening. “I’m not about to hash it out with you.”