Sunlight (Haven River Ranch)

There was magic in a hot shower. My hands were in my hair, lathering shampoo as I tilted my head back beneath the spray and let the water wash away the fog from a sleepless night.

A lifetime ago, I’d been washing my hair in a shitty rental, and the water had shut off. A smile tugged at my mouth as I rinsed my hair clean.

I wished I could go back to that day. To reassure my past self that it would all be okay. That soon, the man of her dreams would flip her world upside down. That the lonely years were over.

The smile was still on my face as I got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself. It lingered as I stared in the mirror at the dark circles under my eyes.

God, I was exhausted. Blissfully exhausted.

It was October nineteenth. My due date.

Josephine was three weeks old, and I’d forgotten what it felt like to sleep for more than two hours at a time.

We’d spent some time at the hospital. More time than I’d wanted. But when Robin had assured us Josephine was healthy and could come home, we’d brought her to the ranch.

Jax had driven us home, on a Tuesday at sundown, to the Haven River Ranch.

Josephine was healthy and growing. She was tiny and loud. She was the light of my life.

And so was her father.

After combing my hair, I left it to air-dry, then padded to the closet. My clothes stretched along one half, opposite Jax’s on the other. The hamper was overflowing with his things and mine. The bed was unmade, the sheets rumpled and our pillows piled in the middle where we slept, curled around each other every night.

Dressed in a pair of loose pajama bottoms and a tank top, I snagged one of his flannels to wear, then walked out of the bedroom, expecting to hear the TV. When I’d gone to take a shower, Jax had been in the living room watching football while Josephine had been in her swing.

But I didn’t hear a sound from the living room. The only noise was the steady whir from the sound machine in the nursery.

I peered inside, finding Jax in the rocking chair with our daughter in his arms.

My heart swelled, so big I pressed a hand over my chest.

She was asleep, her perfect face serene and her hands curled into tiny fists. He was asleep, too, his head resting on the back of the chair, his mouth slightly parted.

On our final night at the hospital, Josephine had been fussy. Jax had taken her from the plastic bassinet and held her in the uncomfortable, too-small recliner he’d slept in for days. They’d both fallen asleep, just like they were now. A nurse had come in and scolded us about not sleeping with the baby in a chair.

But I’d waved her off.

He’d never drop her. Asleep or awake, he wouldn’t let her fall.

He wouldn’t let us fall.

I eased the door closed, careful not to make a sound, then walked to the living room, surveying the mess.

In the corner was a box, the lid propped open to reveal a pair of caramel cowboy boots. My cowboy boots. Curtis had brought them over last night along with dinner from the lodge so we wouldn’t have to cook. Somehow, he’d learned that I didn’t have boots, and any daughter of his needed boots.

I’d cried, and Josephine had chosen that moment to cry too. There was a lot of crying at the moment.

Josephine’s swing and bouncer bracketed the coffee table. On the rug beside the couch was a changing mat and a few stray diapers spilling out of their package. The Kindle that Emery had bought me last week so I could read during the sleepless nights was on an end table. Jax’s coffee mug from breakfast was beside it on a coaster.

Every room was the same. His things. My things. The baby’s things.

The house wasn’t cramped or cluttered, but it was full of life.

Except there was still a piece missing. Eddie.

I walked to the island and pulled out a stool.

The diamond ring on my left hand glinted as I reached for the tote I’d left on the counter.

Jax had proposed three days ago over breakfast for dinner. He’d put the ring on top of my pancakes.

The minute he’d slid it onto my finger, I’d felt this rush of certainty that I was exactly where I’d always been meant to be. Those roots I’d felt growing months ago had finally taken hold. All of the hard days I’d endured had been for a reason: to get me to Montana.

To bring me to Jax.

Someday, I hoped Eddie could meet him.

I fished out my laptop from the tote, moving it to the side as I pulled out a stack of letters. My letters that Eddie had sent back.

If Jax had his way, these letters would be kindling for the fire he built every night in the hearth.

Maybe my relationship with Eddie would never recover from the day I’d left him at the camp. Maybe we’d grown apart a long time ago. Maybe what he needed was time.

But I was going to keep writing. I’d thought it would be best to take a break, but he hadn’t told me to stop writing. He’d accused me of leaving him.

So I wasn’t going to give up. Not until he told me to stop. Maybe not even then.

Fishing out a notepad and a pen, I didn’t let myself overthink the words as they flowed onto the paper.

Dear Eddie,

You have a niece. You’re an uncle. Her name is Josephine, for Mom. And her middle name is Bryan, for Dad. Not exactly a typical middle name for a girl, but it was Jax’s idea. Someday, I hope you meet them both. She’s got my dark hair and his blue eyes. She rarely sleeps and cries a lot, but she’s perfect. Baby poop is this weird yellow color, it’s so gross. She loves to be swaddled really tight so she can’t move her arms or legs, like a baby burrito. And she has the best eyelashes.

I love you. Even when you’re mad at me, even when I’m mad at you, I love you. And I miss you. Every day, I miss you.

Sasha

I’d just signed my name on the bottom when my phone rang. I slid off the stool, searching through the mess to find it on the charger beside the fireplace.

My stomach knotted at the name on the screen.

Micah.

The one and only time he’d called me in the past year that wasn’t in reply to a message of mine was to tell me that Eddie had gotten into a fight with another student. That both students had been reprimanded and sequestered for a week.

Was this another fight? Or something worse? My heart climbed into my throat as I answered. “Hey, Micah.”

“Sasha?”

That voice. I knew that voice. My heart skipped. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

My hand came to my mouth.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat as tears filled my eyes. “I’m here.”

“Micah said I could call you.”

“I’m so glad.” I wiped at my eyes, trying to stop the tears that just kept falling, but at least he couldn’t see me cry. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“I guess. I was out in the mountains for a few weeks. It snowed up there already.”

“Oh. It hasn’t snowed here yet.”

“You’re still at that ranch or whatever?”

“Yes, I’m at the ranch. At home.”

“That’s good.” His voice was deeper than I remembered. Rougher.

How much had he changed this past year? What did he look like now? More like Dad? Or had his features matured into his own?

Oh God. We were talking. He’d called me. I covered my mouth again so he wouldn’t hear me cry.

“I, um, wanted to say sorry. About those letters. I was having a bad day. Got mad and wrote . . . you know.”

Yes, I knew. I’d memorized every word.

“I didn’t mean it, Sasha. I wanted to write you and say sorry, but then Micah sent me on a wilderness outing because I was being a dick. He didn’t know I sent those letters back to you. He was out sick one day, and I lied to one of the other counselors that I needed to send my sister letters and that Micah had already reviewed them. I told him about it today in our session, and he’s, uh, pretty pissed off at me.”

“That’s why you’re calling.”

“Yeah. I really am sorry.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thanks.”

“Are you, um, okay? Did you have a baby?”

“I did. I actually just wrote you a letter telling you all about her.”

The line went silent for a few heartbeats. “You wrote me? Again?”

“I’ll always write you, Eddie. No matter what.”

He sniffled, like I wasn’t the only one crying. “I miss you. A lot. I want to come home.”

“Home looks a lot different than it did. I’m not going back to California.”

“I don’t care. I just want to be wherever you are.”

I sucked in a breath, fighting to keep the wobble from my voice. “I think you’d really like the ranch. Maybe you could come visit whenever Micah says it’s okay.”

“He thinks I should stay here. Finish out school. Did he talk to you about that?”

“Yes. I think maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah. I have pretty decent grades.”

“I’m not surprised.” It was never a matter of intelligence with Eddie. He was incredibly smart. But he’d just stopped doing the work. “What do you want to do? Stay?”

He’d already stayed longer than the court-mandated period.

“Yeah, kinda. I have some friends who are staying too.”

“All right. I’ll visit with Micah, and we can finalize a plan.”

“’Kay.” He sighed. “Maybe I can call you again.”

“I’d really like that.”

“Me too.” He went quiet again. “Sasha?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you read me your letter? So I don’t have to wait for it?”

I nodded and walked to the island, returning to the stool as I read him the note.

“Josephine Bryan,” he murmured. “That’s a cool name.”

“I think so too.”

“I better go. It’s almost lunch. Talk to you later?”

“I’m here. I’m always here. Bye.”

The minute I ended the call, a fresh wave of tears flowed. I took a minute to breathe, to dry my face, then I stood from the stool.

Jax was leaning against the wall in the hallway, Josephine still asleep in the cradle of his arm. He shoved off the wall and walked over, holding out his open arm. I fell into his side, burying my face in his chest.

“You heard?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Jax kissed my damp hair. “I heard.”

I wrapped my arms around his narrow waist, holding tight. “Tell me a lie.”

“I’m not tired.”

I laughed. “Tell me a secret.”

“I love you.”

That wasn’t a secret. We didn’t have secrets from each other, not anymore.

So for the rest of my life, whenever he wanted a secret, I’d say the same.

“I love you too.”