“Talk to them,” he ordered.
“Uh—” Ember looked down at the frustrated babies and swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “Boys, I want you to stop now. Okay? I want you to be good boys and be quiet for me.”
Wyatt blinked up at her in mild confusion, but the crying stopped.
“All right, then,” she said quietly. “That’s good. Let’s not cry just now, okay? Because we’re okay. We’re going to get through this. It’s a feeling, and while feelings are very, very strong, they pass. They aren’t forever.”
Her words were meant as a reminder for herself—this overwhelming grief she’d been battling, the guilt at the thought that she’d made the wrong choice, or made her choice for the wrong reasons... It wasn’t forever. She could wade through it, and she would feel happiness and contentment again. Eventually.
Feelings were not permanent. Feelings did not define her. She might feel like a failure at times, or like she was unworthy after what she’d done, but that was not a fact. The fact was that she had a God who loved her despite her mistakes, and her identity was in Him.
The babies settled into quiet, softly hiccuping as their breathing slowed. Casey kept the chair rocking with his strong arm, and she was struck again by the size of him. Standing over her like that, she could feel his strength and his gentleness contained in that muscular physique—the last thing she wanted to be reminded of just now.
Her emotions were in enough of a muddle without adding a handsome cowboy into the mix, but when she glanced up at him, she saw a wistful look on his face.
“A woman’s touch,” he murmured.
“Maybe they just tired out,” she said.
“Nah, they’ve gone for way longer than that,” he replied with a soft laugh, and his brown eyes sparkled, then faded. He straightened, and Ember took over the rocking of the chair for herself.
The babies were quiet now, their eyes closed, wet lashes brushing their pink cheeks.
“Feelings don’t last forever,” she whispered against their wispy hair. “You just have to wait them out, and they go away eventually.”
One day, they wouldn’t remember their mother anymore and they wouldn’t yearn for her smell or her voice or her touch... One day, even memories would fade, as she knew would have happened with her own little boy. Her son—named by another woman—would have forgotten her entirely.
It was the mother who couldn’t forget.
Casey looked down at the woman in his armchair. Ember leaned her head back, her golden hair tumbling around her shoulders. The babies’ eyes had shut, and they slept facing each other as Ember rocked them. She had a hand on each little rump, but her attention seemed like it had wandered away as she looked toward the window and the afternoon sunlight outside. Whenever she held a baby, she seemed to do that—slip mentally away.
It shouldn’t matter. The babies were soothed, and it looked like those boys needed the feminine touch—the one thing he couldn’t provide. But he’d have to—sooner rather than later. He needed a woman in this with him—a wife to stand by him and help him raise these kids. Maybe a mom in the mix would make this feel more like a proper family.
“Thanks for this,” he said, and he sank into the couch opposite her. The room was cozily warm, and he exhaled a tired sigh.
Ember looked over at him and smiled weakly. “No problem.”
They were quiet for a couple of beats, and then Ember asked, “How long have you known Mr. Vern? You two seem pretty close.”
“Most of my life,” Casey said. “He and my dad were friends, and when we lost the ranch, Mr. Vern offered me a job. I’ve been working here ever since.”
“That’s why he trusts you so much.”
“I’m good at my job because I was raised on a ranch and I was bidding on cattle at the auction by the time I was twelve. My dad showed me the ropes—I know how to run a ranch. So, yeah, he trusts me.”
She eyed him for a moment. “But you’re not happy here.”
Happy wasn’t something he’d been worrying about lately. He’d had a job to do, and land to buy. His happiness was going to come later—at least that was what he told himself.
“It’s been a place holder,” Casey admitted. “I want to own a ranch, not just run one for someone else. There’s something about having your stake in a place—makes a difference. And it isn’t that I’m not happy here, because I do love this land. I’m just not happy being only a manager.”
She nodded. “I get that.”
“You’re perceptive,” he said, then added with a teasing smile, “for a city girl.”
“You aren’t so mysterious as you think,” she replied with a smile. “It was how you acted in the house—kind of tense and coiled. You’re different on horseback.”
“Isn’t everybody?” he quipped. “But I’m not the only one who isn’t happy until I’m my own boss. You’re the same way, from what I can see.”
She angled her head to the side in acceptance of that. “Actually, I’m just trying to make the most of this before my father cuts me loose.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. Do you think he will?” Casey asked with a frown.
“I know he will,” she replied. “His other kids can count on his continued support and an inheritance eventually. He gave me an education and a little money. I’m grateful for it—it’s my step up—and I’m not going to squander it. Because after this, I’m sure there won’t be any more.”
“You’re smart,” Casey said with a slow nod.
“I am.” She smiled ruefully. “But this isn’t about money. I’d trade it all in for an actual relationship with my father.”
“You aren’t what I expected,” he admitted.
“Under it all, everyone is surprisingly human,” she replied. “That is the one thing I’ve learned in my years as a therapist.”
“So if
