Sunlight (Haven River Ranch)

The clank of metal on metal greeted me as I crossed Dad’s driveway.

“Damn it.” His voice carried from the open garage door. “You miserable piece of shit.”

“Hello to you too, Dad.”

His head whipped up from under the hood of his riding lawn mower, squinting into the afternoon light. “Jax?”

I strode into the garage and out of the bright sun. “Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry. Didn’t hear you pull up.”

“That’s all right.” I pointed to the mower’s exposed engine. “What’s wrong?”

“Hell if I know. I think it’s the carburetor. The engine keeps stalling. But whoever designed this setup was a sadistic bastard. I had to practically dismantle the whole thing to get it cleaned. And now that I’ve put it back together, I can’t get it to start.”

The fact that this machine had lasted this long was actually a credit to the sadistic bastard who’d designed it. It was the same mower I’d ridden around when I was a kid, earning three dollars from Dad every time I cut the lawn.

I toed the front tire with my boot. “You do remember that you’re a millionaire, right? You can afford a new mower. I bet the dealership in town would bring one out tomorrow.”

“Why would I buy a new one when I can fix this one?”

“Can you fix this one though?” I teased.

Dad frowned. “Well, I guess that remains to be seen. But I’ve been at it for three hours already. I’m not a quitter.”

I chuckled. “Want some help?”

He handed over the wrench. “Have at it.”

We spent the next thirty minutes hunched over the engine, both tinkering and guessing at the problem. Until finally, when we turned the key, the ignition caught, and the motor hummed to life.

“I’ll be damned.” Dad laughed over the noise that filled the garage. He let it run for a moment, then shut it off. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“You’re not working today?” he asked, like he’d just now realized it was a Thursday and normally I’d be at the resort during this time of day.

“I’m working. West needed some help moving cows in the east meadow. Saw your garage open as I was driving back and thought I’d say hi.”

“Glad you did.” Dad started putting tools away in the chests against the far wall. “How’s it going?”

“Busy.” The past two weeks had been hectic, not only at work but at home.

Sasha had jumped into nesting with both feet. Every night when we’d get home, I’d help her with whatever she wanted to do in the nursery, and after two weeks, it was ready to go. There were butterflies everywhere and more pink than I’d ever thought I’d have beneath my roof.

That nursery was my favorite room in the house.

Now that it was done, maybe she’d slow down, though considering her hours at work were as long as ever, I wasn’t holding my breath. The lodge and cabins were still teeming with guests.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Can’t complain.” He opened a drawer on his tool cabinet, putting the wrench in the designated space. They were all arranged by size.

How many hours had I spent in this garage, working on a project with Dad, watching as he put away his tools? There was a reason I knew how to build and rebuild engines. He’d taught me everything he knew about mechanics. About fixing a leaky sink or changing a light fixture. About riding horses and raising cattle.

He was a good dad, despite the disagreements we’d had years ago after he’d sold the ranch. Curtis Haven had made plenty of mistakes in his life, but he was a good dad.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked.

“Shoot.” He turned, leaning against the workbench.

“When Indya bought the ranch, did you know she had a history with West?” It was a question I’d been curious about for years, just hadn’t bothered to ask.

Originally, Indya had planned to stay here for only a year after the sale. She’d wanted to turn the resort and its financial problems around, then move on to other ventures. She’d made a deal with Dad to ensure that when she left, West would be in charge. She’d basically forced Dad into retirement.

I’d always wondered if he’d agreed because it was the best option. Or if he’d known that if Indya lived in Montana for a year, maybe she and West would rekindle an old flame.

“Had a hunch,” he said. “The weeks she’d come visit with her family when they were younger, he’d disappear completely. But I was never sure. Why?”

“Always wondered.” I shrugged. “Is that hunch why you sold the ranch to her?”

He sighed. “I wish I was that romantic. I sold it because we needed the money. I had us in a damn fine hole. She was a way out.”

I hummed, reaching for a rag on the mower’s seat to wipe my hands. “Did my mother ever contact you?”

Another curiosity. But the reason I hadn’t asked wasn’t because it just never came up. This was a question I’d been wanting to ask for years, but I hadn’t worked up the courage. Probably because I already knew the answer.

Dad blinked, like he’d gotten whiplash from the change in topic.

“I’ve never asked you that before.” I tossed the rag, streaked with black, aside. “It’s been on my mind lately.”

Sharing secrets and lies with Sasha had brought the skeletons out of the closet. They’d been shoved away for too long, and I wasn’t going to shove them back.

“I get it. You’re about to be a father. Makes a man think.” His eyes softened. “I wish I could say yes. I wish I could say that she called me to check on you.”

But he couldn’t. We both knew that.

I hadn’t needed her. Not with Dad. Not with Grandma and Grandpa. Even Lily. But I’d always wondered if she’d looked back.

Now I could put it away. For good.

Focus on Sasha. Focus on our daughter.

“Thanks, Dad. I’d better get back to work,” I said. Except before I could leave the garage for my truck, the crunch of tires on gravel carried from outside.

Dad and I made our way to the driveway just as an SUV parked beside my truck.

“Is that . . .” His jaw dropped.

Lily opened her door and stepped out.

“She talked to me at the barbeque?” he murmured.

Was that a statement? Or was it a question because, even months later, he still couldn’t believe it had happened?

Dad cleared his throat, smoothing down the front of his shirt as Lily moved to the back door of her car, taking out a box wrapped in pink striped paper.

When she turned and looked at the house, she paused, her gaze raking the porch to the roof to the dormer windows. She hadn’t seen this house in ages. Why now? I doubted that gift was for Dad.

She squared her shoulders and walked over, giving us both a nervous smile. “Hi.”

Dad opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Hey.” I came to his rescue. “What’s up?”

“I, um, was looking for you. I stopped by the stables and didn’t see you in your office. And no one was at your house. So I, uh, thought I’d check here.” Her gaze darted to Dad, then away again. “This is for you and Sasha.”

Lily thrust the pink box into my arms, then stepped back, once more barely glancing at Dad before she looked to the ground. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

That was an apology to Dad, not me.

What the hell was happening right now? Not only had she actually addressed his existence, but she was here, on his property. Voluntarily. She could have just left this box on my desk with a note.

“It’s no bother, Lily.” Dad stared at her like she was a dream. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

Part of me wished he had said the opposite. That he had sent her packing. Tell her that she’d missed her chance while she’d been so busy holding on to her resentment and heartache.

But the other part of me, the part that would always look at Lily like a mother, the part that knew Dad would love her until the day he died, was glad the icy silence between them was beginning to thaw. For his sake.

“That’s a baby blanket.” She pointed to the box in my hands. “I’ve been making it for a while. I’ve never made a blanket before, so it’s not the best.”

“Thank you.” Well, fuck. That was thoughtful. And kind. And any fool could see she was trying. Hard.

“I wrote a letter.” She forced a wider smile, but it wobbled, like she was about to cry. “That’s for you.”

“Okay.” I slipped the envelope from the pink ribbon.

“Please don’t read it right now.” She held out her hands. “It’s, um . . . an apology. For a lot of stuff. Mostly for the fight and how I acted. I thought it would be easier to get it all out on paper, but now that I think about it, I probably didn’t word it right. It’ll just make everything worse. Let me—”

I shifted to the side when she reached for the envelope, trying to take it back. “I’d like to read it.”

Lily looked seconds from tears. How hard had it been for her to come here? To write the letter she didn’t want me to read?

“I heard you at the hospital,” I said. “When you told Sasha you wanted to be a part of my daughter’s life. Did you mean it?”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I love you, Jax. I’ve done a pitiful job of saying it. And showing it. I’d like a chance to do better.”

Damn. I rocked on my heels like she’d punched me square in the heart.

Lily sniffled, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. Then she gave Dad a sad smile.

She didn’t have to tell him she loved him. She’d always love him.

Love had never been the problem. But until she was ready to forgive him, they’d linger in this limbo.

Lily, hating Dad for a mistake nearly thirty years old.

Dad, hating himself for the same.

They’d be trapped with it, the anger and hate, until they could let it go.

Was that my problem too? Was I stuck in this limbo with them?

“I’m not going to call you Lily,” I said. “I’m not going to call you Mom either. How about Nana?”

This time, she couldn’t stop the tears before they spilled over her cheeks. “I’d like Nana. Very much.”

With a nod, I left them in the driveway, taking the gift and letter to my truck.

They were still standing in the same place, staring at each other, as I drove away.

A small laugh escaped as I rolled down the road.

That was not how I’d expected today to go. I drove past the stables when I made it to the lodge, parking in the empty spot three spaces down from Sasha’s car.

She was at her desk when I strode into her office, Lily’s letter tucked in my pocket.

But the note was forgotten the moment I saw her face.

She was white. Her hands were shaking as she clutched a piece of paper.

“What’s wrong?” I ran across the room to her side, my heart leaping into my throat. “Sasha, is it the baby? Are you hur—”

She flew out of her chair and dropped the paper like it was on fire. Then she raced for the door. It was the fastest she’d walked in months.

I was about to chase after her, but the page she’d dropped snagged my attention.

FUCK YOU

There were letters scattered across her desk. There had to be a dozen or more. Some were longer than others. Each page had Sasha’s neat, clean handwriting.

And scrawled on top of her script in angry, vicious red ink were words I couldn’t unsee.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOUR BABY

YOU LEFT ME

I HATE YOU

I FUCKING HATE YOU

My jaw clenched.

Who the fuck was Eddie?