Cade Callahan stood in the hospital gift shop staring at the colorful display of get-well tokens. A fluffy white unicorn with a purple horn and a glittery pink-and-purple mane caught his eye. Allie had loved unicorns as a little kid—she’d called them “princess ponies.” But he was wrestling with the notion that now she might be too old for a stuffed animal.
If she was, she could always toss it. At least he was trying, he thought as he snagged the unicorn from the shelf. He considered a card but figured that might be a little too much. Besides, he doubted he’d find a card that read, Sorry I was a shitty dad. Get well soon. For now, the unicorn would have to do.
He grabbed two bottles of water and threw a couple of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups onto the counter, thinking they might want them on the drive up the mountain. He was already dreading the trip. His back hurt from sleeping in the chair next to her hospital bed, and between the two of them, they were grumpier than a grizzly who’d stepped in a hornet’s nest.
I’m the grown-up, he reminded himself. Which meant he needed to be the better person, no matter how many of his buttons his thirteen-year-old daughter pushed. And if there were an Olympic event for pushing a parent’s buttons, Allison Raye would take home the gold and the silver.
As the teenage cashier rang up the items, his eye caught on the shelf of paperbacks behind her. He gestured to the books. “Do you have any YA?” he asked, recalling the conversation he’d had earlier with his daughter about the Kindle app on her phone. It was probably the longest one they’d had yet. Even though she’d rolled her eyes at his lack of knowledge of the young adult genre, he’d still gleaned three important pieces of information from the conversation: one, her phone was at home on the charger; two, her Kindle took the place of any real friendships she might have; and three, she was still a bookworm who loved to read.
The cashier turned to peruse the shelf and pointed to three books along the bottom. “It looks like we only have these three.”
“Okay, I’ll take them.”
“Which ones?”
“All three.”
“Sure.” She added the books to his total, then slid them into a bag.
Allie was asleep when he got back to her room. He paused in the doorway to look at her and had to swallow back the emotion burning his throat. He and her mother had had their share of struggles, but he couldn’t believe Amber was gone. And the thought that Allie could have died in that car accident too hit him like a punch to the gut.
He blinked back the sudden burn of tears as he peered at the dark purple bruises around her eyes and along one of her cheeks. A thin line of stitches ran next to her hairline—they weren’t sure if she’d hit her head or something in the cab had flown by and cut her when the car rolled. Her right arm was bandaged and secured in a cream-colored splint, and her left leg was constrained in a blue boot, only sprained and thankfully not broken.
She looked so small, so young, like the little girl he remembered. He hadn’t seen his daughter in almost a year. He’d contacted Amber a few years back, told her he wanted to try to see Allie more often, but she’d stalled and always seemed to have some excuse for why it wouldn’t work. When Allie got a cell phone, he’d tried to call her, but the few times they’d talked had been stilted and awkward with neither of them knowing exactly what to say.
That’s bullshit, he thought as he forced himself to step into the room. I should have tried harder.
Her eyes fluttered open, and a hard knot tightened in his chest as he saw the array of emotions flash in her eyes with each blink. They changed from almost glad to see him to confused to angry, then to agonizingly sad as the realization of her mother’s death must have hit her again.
She winced as she tried to push herself up in the bed with her good hand but waved Cade off as he took another step toward her. “I got it.”
He stayed where he was, not sure how to help her and knowing she wasn’t ready to accept his help yet anyway. It used to feel like walking on eggshells around each other—now it felt more like land mines.
The nurse had said she’d be able to leave before lunch, and she’d changed into the shorts and one of the T-shirts his cousin Bryn and neighbor Elle had bought for her when they’d come down to Denver after they’d heard about the accident. The T-shirt was red and yellow and referenced being a Gryffindor on the front.
“Nice shirt,” he said.
“Thanks. Cousin Bryn and your other friend Elle bought it for me. Apparently they stalked me on Insta and figured out my size and that I love Harry Potter.”
“I don’t know what Insta is, but I’m glad you like the things they brought.” He held out the unicorn. “Here, I got you something too.”
“What’s this?” she said, peering down at it.
“A peace offering. And an apology, I guess. And just something I thought you’d like.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of mileage to get out of one stuffed animal.”
He shrugged. “I like to consolidate. I also mix my peas into my mashed potatoes and gravy.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
“What? It keeps them from rolling off the plate.” He’d been trying to make her smile—just one instant of her lips curving up—and he thought he might have had it. But then her face shut down again as she pushed the unicorn into the tote bag with the rest of her things. “They gave me a bag with my stuff in it, but I don’t know if I want it anymore.”
The hospital had given him a bag with his ex-wife’s things as well. He’d taken a quick look inside—enough to see some clothes, a pair of sneakers, and a streak of blood across the front of Amber’s purse. Being on the rodeo circuit, he was no stranger to blood, but it was different when it belonged to the mother of his child who had been alive and breathing less than twenty-four hours ago. He’d twisted the bag closed and stowed it behind the seat in his truck.
He picked up the plastic bag with his daughter’s name written on the front. “I’ll take care of it.” He passed her the bag of books, as if in trade. “Here. I got you these too. The cashier said they were all YA.”
A hint of a smile pulled at her lips as she peered into the bag. “They are. I’ve read one of them already.”
He held out his free hand. “That’s okay. I can take it back.”
She shook her head and pulled the bag of books to her chest. “No, I’ll read it again.” She narrowed her eyes, then barely lifted one eyebrow. “The unicorn is cute, but you should have led with the books.”
He turned away to hide his smile. At least he’d gotten something right.
A nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room. “You ready to break out of this joint?” she asked Allie.
“So ready.” The girl pointed to the chair. “Do I have to ride in that thing?”
The nurse crossed her arms over her chest. She’d been with them since the night before and most of the morning and seemed immune to his daughter’s snark. “First of all, yes. It’s a requirement. And second of all, you’re not going to be walking anywhere today. We’re sending you home with crutches, and you’ll be using those and that boot you’re wearing for the next few weeks at least.”
“Fine.” Allie plopped down in the seat.
They had already completed the paperwork for her release, and Cade had taken a load of stuff down to the truck earlier that morning. He picked up the rest of her things and followed them down the hall.
***
The drive up the pass took just over an hour but felt like five. The cab of the truck was thick with awkward silences and uncomfortable attempts at conversation. Mostly his.
To say Allie wasn’t thrilled about heading to Bryn’s ranch was an understatement. She’d assumed they were going back to her house, but Cade wasn’t ready for that. And he wasn’t sure Allie was either. He promised her they’d go by her house on their next trip down, but for now, he was trying to keep her mind on her recovery.
Cade’s efforts to ask about her school or how she was feeling were met with wisecracks or exaggerated shrugs, so he’d finally just turned on the radio and let his daughter sulk.
She wrinkled her nose at the country music station. “Is this the only kind of music you listen to?”
“No. I’ll listen to whatever. You can choose.”
She shook her head. “I guess I don’t really care either. You can leave it, SD.”
He furrowed his brow as he turned the volume down. “So, what’s with this SD business?” She’d used the initials several times.
Allie lifted one shoulder. “It’s just a nickname I have for you.”
“What does it mean?”
She shrugged again and kept her gaze trained out the window.
“I don’t think I like it,” he told her.
“Oh well.”
“Can’t you just call me Dad?”
She turned back to him, her eyes narrowed as she leveled him with a cool stare. “No. I can’t. You haven’t earned that title in a long while. I haven’t even seen you in close to a year.”
He swallowed at the guilt churning its way up his throat like a bad bout of heartburn.
“That wasn’t my—” He stopped. He was going to say it wasn’t his fault—that Amber had moved them again and hadn’t given him her new number for months. And that even when he’d called, she’d always had a reason why he couldn’t talk to his daughter. But telling Allie that wouldn’t do any good. He didn’t want to speak poorly of Amber, especially right now, and it probably was his fault too. He should’ve tried harder, pushed Amber to put Allie on the phone or insist she return his call. “How about you just call me Cade? I didn’t earn it either, but that’s my name.”
Slumping further into the seat and turning back to the window, she offered him that slight lift of her shoulders coupled with a mumbled “Whatever.” Which he now took as her way of agreeing with him.
Glad that’s settled. He glanced at the dashboard clock before returning his focus to the road. Only forty-five more minutes of awkward silence to go.
Close to an hour later—traffic up the mountain had been a bear—he turned the truck into the driveway of the Heaven Can Wait Horse Rescue.
Allie lifted her head and sat up straighter in the seat. “Is this it?”
“Yep.” He and his brother had been coming here to visit his grandparents since he was a kid, but he tried to see the small farm from her eyes. An old yellow two-story farmhouse with a wide front porch sat on one side of the drive, and a large barn with faded red paint sat on the other. Two nice-sized corrals flanked either side of the barn, and chickens roamed inside the fence surrounding a small chicken coop. The bunkhouse sat beyond the barn, and Cade could see a couple of barn cats lying in the sun on the front porch.
The farm was a little worse for wear, but Bryn had added homey touches in the cheery blue pillows on the porch swing and the array of colorful pots spilling over with flowers on the steps. She had a fenced-in garden next to her house with neat rows of vegetables and tall green cornstalks reaching for the sun. Several of the rescued horses stood in one corral, and a couple dozen head of cattle filled the other and the pasture beyond.
“It’s pretty old,” Allie said, leaning forward to peer through the front window.
“This used to be your great-grandparents’ farm. I came here quite a bit with your uncle Holt when we were kids. Us and Bryn and her brother, Bucky, used to run all over this place.”
“What kind of name is Bucky?”
He shrugged. “He just goes by Buck now. I used to see him a lot on the rodeo circuit.” Allie’s shoulders tensed, and he figured he’d better change the subject quick. She’d always blamed the rodeo for keeping him away and not visiting her more often. “My grandpa left this farm to Bryn when he died. She always loved it, and now she’s turning it into a horse rescue. It’s pretty cool.”
She offered him one of her noncommittal shrugs as they pulled up in front of the bunkhouse. “Is that your dog?” she asked, derision in her tone as she pointed to a mangy canine standing in the pasture behind the bunkhouse. His body was thin, and he stood perfectly still, watching them approach through one good eye. His other was a wreck of scar tissue and damage.
He huffed. “No. Not even close. That’s a coyote. He’s been hanging around here a lot this summer. I think he’s looking to get into the chicken coop and steal a hen. Zane, that’s Bryn’s fiancé, he’s been calling him Jack, for the one-eyed jack in a deck of playing cards. He’s pretty small and scrawny for a coyote, probably the runt of his litter. Which is why I think Bryn feels sorry for him and has been tossing him scraps. You’ll soon learn your cousin Bryn has a heart the size of Montana, and she can’t resist a wounded soul.”
“Is he dangerous? The coyote?”
“He could be. Most coyotes are assholes.” He held up one hand. “Sorry. I mean jerks. But if you don’t mess with him, he shouldn’t mess with you. And he’s an odd one. You don’t usually see ’em this close to the house. I’d be more worried about stepping on a rattler or running into a bear than tangling with that coyote.”
“A bear?” Her voice raised almost an octave.
Ugh. He was just making this worse. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Did he really just say that? The whole reason he’d all but disappeared out of her life was because he had let something happen to her.
He didn’t know if she was thinking the same thing as she turned away and pushed open the door. This was their new start. He needed to show her he wanted her here. He got out and quickly rounded the back of the truck as she wrestled with the crutch. Her left arm was in a sling, making the use of two crutches impossible. “Welcome home, Allie Cat,” he said, as he reached to help her.
“I got it,” she said, her mouth set in a tight line as she wedged the crutch into the pit of her good arm. She took a clumsy step forward and had to grab the side of the door to steady herself. “What are you looking at?” she sneered at the row of horses watching her from the edge of the corral.
“I’d say they’re staring because you’re the first three-legged animal they’ve seen, but you haven’t met Lucky, Bryn’s dog. He’s missing a leg and runs and hops all over this place.” He glanced toward the farmhouse. “I’m surprised he and Zane’s dog, Hope, haven’t come out to greet us yet. They must not be home. Do you have a dog?” He had a sudden anxious concern that they’d left an animal alone in their house, forgotten in the trauma of the accident.
Allie shook her head. “No. I’ve always wanted one, but Mom wouldn’t let me get one. She said I wasn’t old enough for the responsibility. I think she just didn’t want the responsibility.” Her breath caught, as if she’d just remembered that her mom was dead.
Cade caught the well of tears in her eyes before she lowered her gaze to the hand gripping the crutch. He reached an arm out trying to think of something to distract her thoughts. “You want to come over and meet the gang? They seem pretty curious about you.”
She looked skeptical but allowed Cade to help her hobble over to the fence, where four horses waited to greet her.
“This is Beauty and her colt, Mack,” Cade said, resting a hand on the neck of the quarter horse. “She was Bryn’s first rescue. She was waiting on a couple of scumbags at the diner where she works and found out they were taking her to slaughter. Zane left her a hundred-dollar tip for his breakfast so she could buy the horse off ’em.”
“A hundred-dollar tip? He must have really wanted that horse.”
“I think he really wanted the girl.”
“Ahh,” Allie said with a nod that was probably more knowing than her thirteen years should have allowed. “And she got the colt too?”
“She did. Although she didn’t know it at the time. The horse was pregnant when she got her.” He nuzzled the chin of the gray standing next to Beauty. “This is Prince. They rescued him from an abandoned farmhouse. And this little old man…” he said, scratching the head of the mini-horse who was stretching his nose through the rungs of the fence to sniff at Allie. “Is Shamus. He was dumped here anonymously. But he’s real friendly. You can pet him.”
“What do you mean by dumped?” She tentatively reached a hand out to touch the side of the mini-horse’s neck.
“I mean Bryn came home one day, and this guy was tied to her porch.”
“That’s awful.”
Cade shrugged. “Yeah, but it worked out pretty well for him. He was a mess when he got here, but now he’s happy and playful. You gotta watch out for him and Otis, the ornery goat that runs around here. Shamus has a way of escaping the corral, and he and that dang goat are always getting into trouble. Elle found them in the house one afternoon eating a piece of cake.”
Allie giggled. He wasn’t sure if it was from his comment about the cake or from the way Shamus was nibbling at her hand, but he loved the sound of it. “His nose is so soft. It’s like velvet.”
The rev of an engine had them turning to watch a small white compact SUV as it headed down Bryn’s driveway and stopped a short distance away. A woman stepped out and held her hand up to shade her eyes as she peered around, then offered them a wave. “Is this the Heaven Can Wait Horse Rescue?”
Cade nodded. “Yep. You lookin’ to drop one off or pick one up?”
“Neither,” she said with a charming laugh as she headed toward them.
She smiled as she approached, and he was struck by the openness of her grin. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, a pink silk blouse, and high-heeled black boots. She looked completely out of place on the farm as the dust of the driveway clung to her fancy boots, but he found his lips curving into a dopey smile as she drew nearer.
His smile didn’t matter apparently, because her attention was completely focused on his daughter. “You must be Allie,” she said, reaching out a hand to shake, then pulling it back as she realized the move would be difficult for the girl. “I’m Nora. I’m going to be your physical therapist.”
Cade turned to Allie and said, “She’s a good friend of Elle’s and agreed to help us out. She’s gonna be staying out here on the farm, so we don’t have to drive to Denver every day.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged in that loose-shouldered way that teenagers had, as if her bones were made of cooked spaghetti noodles. “Welcome to Podunkville, Colorado, otherwise known as the edge of isolation. Hope you don’t need cell-phone service.”
“It’s not that bad,” Cade told the woman.
Allie tilted her head toward him. “This is my SD,” she said by way of introduction.
Nora’s brow furrowed. “SD?”
“It’s her nickname for me,” he explained, offering his own shrug that he hoped wasn’t as annoying as the teenager’s. “Except she won’t tell me what it means.” He cocked an eyebrow at his daughter. “I’m thinking it stands for ‘Super Dad.’”
“I can assure you it does not stand for Super Dad,” Allie said with a snort.
As he’d done with the majority of her salty comments lately, he ignored it and held out his hand to the physical therapist. “Cade Callahan. Thanks for coming.”
The woman nodded. “Nice to meet you. Nora Fisher. And I’m happy to help.” Her gaze traveled over him in a way that had a shot of heat creeping up his spine. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting.”
“No?” He had a moment of wondering what she had been expecting and if he was better or worse than she imagined. What the hell? He couldn’t remember the last time a woman’s opinion of him mattered. Especially one he’d just met.
She shook her head. “Sorry, that was rude. I just meant from Elle’s description, I thought you’d be much older.”
He grinned. “Yeah, that sounds about right. She probably said I was crotchety—she likes to tell me I remind her of a grumpy old man.”
Allie huffed, then muttered, “She got the grumpy part right.”
He ignored her as he shrugged. What could he say? He was kind of grumpy most days. And his daughter hadn’t exactly seen him at his best. But now they were on the ranch and with the horses, the place where he felt the most at ease. He gestured to the small herd of horses still watching them from the corral. “We just got here ourselves, and I was introducing Allie to the crew. You want to meet them?”
“Sure.” Nora nodded and smiled, but the nervous look that crossed her face told him her thoughts were probably more along the lines of unsure.
City girls.
He went through the horses’ names again, stroking their necks as he repeated their stories to Nora.
“The little one is the funniest,” Allie said, scratching the mini-horse’s ears. Shamus stretched his neck through the fence again and nudged her hip, sniffing at her front pocket.
“He’s checking to see if you brought him any treats.”
“What kind of treats does he like?”
“That horse will eat anything. The guy who left him here said his favorites were macaroni and cheese and jelly beans.”
“Jelly beans?” Allie chuckled. “I can understand macaroni and cheese—that’s my favorite too—but what kind of horse eats jelly beans?”
“Not this one. Not anymore. Now he just gets carrots and apple slices and horse treats. We’ll bring him out something tomorrow.” Although he just might bring the mini-horse a jelly bean. Shamus was making more headway with his daughter in the last ten minutes than Cade had in the last two days. But he did just find out that macaroni and cheese was still her favorite.
Nora smiled with them but hung back a little, not as bold as Allie had been in petting the animals. “I don’t have much experience with horses. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to one before.”
“Me either,” Allie admitted.
“Really?” Cade asked. “I’ve been around horses my entire life. I get along with them better than I do most people. Present company excluded.” He hoped. Although so far in the compatibility battle, the horses were still winning. “You couldn’t have asked for better horses to hang out with for your first time. This is a real sweet bunch.”
“Which one is yours?” Nora asked, glancing around at the other horses in the corral.
“Mine’s in the barn. She’s the palomino in the first stall. I’ll give you a tour later, but I think for now, I’d better get Allie inside.” He reached for her elbow, but she pulled it away.
“I told you, I can do it myself.”
He raised his hands in surrender. What else could he do? Her personality was as prickly as a pissed-off porcupine. One minute she was laughing and petting the horses, the next she’s firing off a shot at him. “Fine. Do it yourself.”
The teenager tried to take a step forward but the crutch slid on some loose gravel, and she started to pitch forward. Cade reached out to grab her before she fell, but after he’d steadied her, she pushed him away again. “I can do it.”
“Hold on. I brought you something that might help,” Nora said, heading back toward her car. She popped the hatchback and pulled out a wheeled contraption. “It’s a knee scooter. It’ll make your mobility much easier,” she said as she wheeled it back toward Allie. She bent her leg and rested it on the center platform. “You put your knee here, then you can wheel yourself around and not have to use the crutches.”
Allie passed the crutch to her dad and positioned herself on the scooter. He watched as she awkwardly inched forward.
“This is much easier,” Allie said, getting the hang of the scooter. It was still a little wonky since she could only use one hand, but it offered her much more stability than the single crutch had. “Thanks.” She offered Nora the smallest of smiles.
Better than what he’d been getting lately.
“Are you okay to give me a few minutes to get her settled, then I’ll come back and help you get unloaded?” he asked Nora.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, waving away his concerns. “Take your time. I’ll just hang out here with the horses. We’ll get to know each other.”
He grinned as she inched just a smidge closer and tentatively reached out to pat Shamus’s head.
The bunkhouse was small, and it only took a few minutes to give Allie the tour and get her settled in her new room. It was obvious his cousin and Elle had been in there, and they had transformed the second bedroom into a welcoming space. A new floral comforter covered the bed and a mess of matching pillows lined the headboard. Fresh-cut flowers tucked into a mason jar sat on the dresser next to a basket of miniature bottles of soaps and lotions. A fresh bottle of water was on the nightstand along with an assortment of magazines and paperback novels.
“Did you do all this?” Allie eyed him skeptically.
He shook his head. “Nah. I mean I’ve been working on setting up this room for you in case you wanted to visit, so I got the new bed and the desk and the dresser and nightstand. But the flowers and the bedding and that basket of good-smelling stuff was all your cousin Bryn and her friend Elle. And they definitely get credit for that jumble of useless pillows.”
“Why would they do all this? For me?”
“They’re good people, and they wanted you to feel welcome. Bryn did all this kind of stuff for me when I first got here too. Maybe not the flowers and frou-frou pillows, but she has the gift of hospitality, just like our grandmother did, and it makes her happy to do things for other people.”
“Huh. Just seems like a lot to do for someone she doesn’t even know.”
“Yeah. It takes a little getting used to, but once she’s brought you over a pan of warm cinnamon rolls, you find a way to accept it.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, then drew his hand back. “And she does know you. I told you, she met you several times when you were little.”
“Oh, you mean before you left us.”