Ember sucked in a breath, trying to push back that stab of pain at the thought. She knew this little family of three deserved better, so why did it hurt so much to imagine what that better woman might be like? These boys needed a mom who could kiss away their pain, get them into line when they misbehaved and love their dad with all her heart. She’d be the center of that home, her love binding them all together.
“You deserve better, Wyatt,” she whispered softly.
She’d missed out on all of this with her son—the snuggles, the diapers, the bottles. She’d given it away for the promise of a better future, believing that another woman would be better for her son, too.
It only occurred to her later that her father’s advice that she give her baby up might have been coming from his experience. He’d known about Ember, had supported them with sporadic financial gifts and had otherwise stayed out of her life. He’d never seen her.
Hadn’t that hurt him as a father? Hadn’t there been some paternal part of him that had wondered about his little girl, worried about her, even? Because Ember thought about her son constantly, worried that he wouldn’t know how much she’d loved him, that it would affect him later in life. She’d longed to see him again, just to know he was okay.
But her father seemed quite happy with how his life had gone without Ember there to complicate matters. He had a family already, wealth, respect in his community. He’d swept Ember aside like the mistake she had been.
The sound of boots on the step outside pulled Ember out of her thoughts. She looked down at Wyatt, those big eyes still searching around him, taking in his little world. The door opened, and Casey came in, Bert on his heels.
“Hi,” Ember said, forcing a smile. “How’s the calf?”
“Fine and healthy,” Casey replied, and those warm eyes met hers in a way that made her heart speed up just a little. Did he do that on purpose? “I brought Bert along to stay with the boys while I drop you back off at the house.”
Bert could have dropped her off on his way home for the evening, but it seemed that Casey wanted the honor, and she felt a flood of warmth at the thought. She’d missed him, too, as inconvenient as that was. But opening her heart to her grief over her son also meant opening it up to everything else she might be feeling, and she wasn’t able to simply push her emotions down.
“Let me just wash my hands,” Bert said, heading for the kitchen sink, and Ember looked over at Casey. His dark eyes met hers, and she saw a strange mix of emotion there—so different from the tender longing in his eyes a few hours before when he’d kissed her. Had something changed? Or had he simply had time to think about it?
“How’s the foot?” Casey asked quietly, coming up closer to keep his words private.
“Manageable,” she said with a small smile.
“Could you ride?” he asked.
Ember eyed him uncertainly. “Right now?”
“No—tomorrow, maybe.”
“Let’s see how it feels tomorrow,” she replied. “But I can guarantee you I won’t be putting much weight on it.”
Casey didn’t say anything else, and when Bert dried his hands, Ember passed the baby over to his confident arms. Her heart tugged a little as she let the infant go. She was already attached to these little boys—how easily that happened. Bert gathered Wyatt up onto his shoulder.
“He’s had his bottle and I changed his diaper half an hour ago. But normally after that bottle—” Ember began. Then she smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Bert replied. “And Will?”
“He’s had his bottle, his diaper is changed and he’s been out like a light since.” So he’d wake up soon and want some entertaining.
“Sounds good,” Bert said, then nodded to Casey. “Take your time, boss.”
Ember got her jacket, and when Casey opened the door, she eyed the three steps with trepidation.
“Grab your crutch,” Casey said, and when she did, he scooped her up into his arms. He smelled warm and musky, and her breath caught in her throat as he effortlessly carried her down the stairs, then put her down lightly once more.
“Now you’re just showing off,” she said with a low laugh as she caught her balance once more.
“Easier that way,” he said with a wink, then pulled the house door shut behind him. “So how did it go with the boys?”
“Fine.”
“I meant, how are you?” he said, his gaze catching hers.
“Better than I was before. There is something to be said for just feeling your grief. It has less power that way.”
“So they say.” He looked away from her, scanning the scene for a moment, then bringing his gaze back to lock on to hers. “I could see us being in each other’s lives, if you stuck around.”
“But not as your therapist, and not as your boss,” she said. She hopped over to the truck, and Casey pulled open the passenger-side door. She turned toward him, and he stood there looking down into her face, his eyes locking on to hers in that tender way again. His broad chest emanated heat in the cool evening, and she had to hold herself back from leaning into those strong arms.
“But I could be your friend,” he said quietly.
“You’re assuming I’m staying here,” she said, sadness welling up inside her. “If I found the evidence I needed, I would. But I’m not buying this land without it. This isn’t only about me and my feelings. My plans would affect a lot of other people...” Who was she fooling? She wasn’t even thinking about the ranch hands who would be out of work or the wider community that wanted this to stay ranching land. “It would affect you, Casey. I don’t like the thought of that.”
Casey ran a finger down her cheek. Whatever it was about Casey that was so
