Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River #2)

She couldn’t simply carve them out of her heart and pretend they had never been there. They were ever-present, always in her thoughts.

She had not imagined the good times the four of them had had. She thought of Ryan with his arms around her in the kitchen, nuzzling her neck while she made pasta sauce. Or the bitterly cold night they’d roasted marshmallows over the fire. She thought about reading the same book every night to Max when he’d been a toddler. It was a book of truck pictures, and he could name every one of them. She thought about how she would braid Alice’s red hair in the mornings while Alice fired questions at her. Why do I have to brush my teeth? Why do I have to take a bath? Why are faeries tiny? Why does Daddy have boots?

It had been a good life, and Libby knew she wasn’t imagining it. What was she supposed to do now? Give up hope of Alice and Max? Was that even possible?

Her thinking was further muddied by the fact that Sam hadn’t come out to the ranch. Not that Libby was expecting him, exactly, as they had agreed there would be no more of that truly wonderful, sexy thing between them. She wasn’t expecting him, but she was disappointed all the same. She wondered if he’d been out to see Millie Bagley. Or if he was having lunch at the Grizzly.

She wondered if he thought about her.

In the meantime, every afternoon around four, Alice called her, and Libby was thrilled to hear her voice. It was the brightest moment of her day. Alice talked about dance class, about her teacher, and about Tatiana, her new friend. She reported that Max wouldn’t eat his peas or pick up his toys and had been in time-out a lot. Sometimes, Max would agree to let Libby speak to him on the phone, responding with a functional yes or no before dropping the phone to run off and play.

Libby asked Alice where Mommy and Daddy were, and Alice told her that her mother was at work, or that Kaylee, their teenage babysitter, was over. Libby said, “Alice, I don’t want you to be in trouble. You need to ask Daddy if it’s okay to call me.”

“I did!” Alice insisted. “Daddy said.”

Daddy said.

The very next day, Alice announced plans for a trip to Disney World. “Daddy said we could go.”

“Said who could go?” Libby had asked, distracted by the task of counting place cards.

“All of us. Me and Max and Daddy. And you!”

Libby had looked up from her work. “Not me, sweetie.”

“Uh-huh,” Alice said. “They have princesses there. You can dress like a princess, too. Tatiana went and she told me.”

This was getting out of hand. Libby needed to see Ryan, to talk to him about what was going on with the kids. Alice was not an untruthful child, but this made no sense. As much as Libby hoped it was Ryan’s buildup to crawling back and begging for forgiveness—something she would very much like to see . . . in a public venue, preferably . . . with everyone in Pine River in attendance—she didn’t believe it.

What she needed was to sort this out. She thought of calling him, but decided against it. The last thing she needed was for Gwen to see her number pop up on his phone. And besides, this conversation was one that needed to be held in person.

Thursday morning, on the day that Gary and Austin would come to inspect the grounds, Libby went out to the garage to check on Tony’s progress with her car. Surprisingly, the hood of her car was closed, and her car had been washed and buffed. “Looking for these?” Tony asked, and held out her keys.

Libby gasped with delight. She took the keys, got into the car and started it up. The thing purred like new. Like new.

“Happy?” Tony asked when she stepped out of the car.

“Ecstatic,” she said, smiling. “Really, thank you, Tony. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you. What do I owe you?”

He glanced down at the bolt or screw or whatever it was he was polishing. “I could do with a few groceries,” he said. “Still got this old Buick to fix up. Might take some time.” He peeked up at her. “Ernest doesn’t seem to mind.”

Libby glanced around the garage.

“I do more than cars,” Tony said. “And I can build just about anything.”

Libby inadvertently and unthinkingly glanced at his prosthetic leg.

“Don’t worry about that,” Tony said instantly. “I get by. Look, I can stay out at the place Sam found for me, sure. It’s nice enough, got everything a man could want.”

Libby didn’t think that place had anything anyone would want—it was remote, stark, run-down, and utterly depressing.

“But here . . . well, here, there’s people. Ernest. Luke. Even you, when you’re not complaining about your car.” He smiled a little.

“I don’t really complain so much as I—”

“I was thinking another week or so,” he continued. “The thing is, I kind of need to be around people right now.”

There was something in his voice that sounded a little unsteady. Worse, it sounded completely familiar. It sounded alone and in need of emotional support.