Chapter Thirteen

Laney sat the bowl of chili down in front of him and Ryder inhaled on a groan. “Thoughts of your cooking got me through many a cold Alaskan night, Laney.”

The cook tapped him upside the head. “If you hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have needed thoughts to sustain you.” She left him rubbing the bruised spot and laughing. The good things about coming home far outweighed the bad.

He glanced through the arched window at Sky Lake. Pride flowed through his veins. He owned it. Or part of it. The meeting had gone almost as well as he’d envisioned for all those years. With every detail he and Alex talked through, his father’s gaze had narrowed until he was practically sitting with his eyes closed. Few words had been exchanged between father and son. Not that he had expected the warm and fuzzies from such a cold-hearted man, but a grunt of appreciation? Some acknowledgment that Alex and his plans were sound business? That, he had hoped for. He hadn’t even received a handshake at the conclusion.

And despite the result of ten years of hard work not having the intended result, Ryder felt peace where it was concerned. He had regrets. He still had pain. But he had Melanie and his mother, Sky Lake, and maybe one day he would have Peyton, too.

His spoon clinked against the bottom of a nearly empty bowl when he noticed Peyton headed in his direction. She’d been matter-of-fact during the remainder of the meeting, but he could tell it was an act. Maybe for his dad, whose health was still niggling at the bottom of his heart and maybe for Alex’s sake as well.

Ryder definitely didn’t appreciate all the sweet smiles sent his partner’s way but there would be time for him to examine that later. Right now it appeared Peyton had an agenda, if her purposeful stride was any indication.

She pulled up the chair and settled across from him. Ryder swallowed his smile. She was so damn adorable when she was affronted. Made him want to needle her until her anger erupted and then steal her off to somewhere and transform that anger into passion. He shifted in his seat and crossed his arms, waiting for the boot to drop.

“So help me God, Ryder, if the only reason you came back here was to enact some type of revenge on your father, I’ll find a way to string you up by your toes, cover you in honey, and let all sorts of animals have a field day with you.”

He took a deep breath. It hurt that she didn’t believe enough of him as a person and a man that he would be petty enough to return purely for revenge. But that small little damn conscience reminded him that perhaps revenge had entered his mind. Not in terms of hurting his father, but in terms of proving to Mitchum he was wrong.

“Revenge? Seems a nasty word. Don’t you think?”

Peyton leaned forward, green eyes flashing. “If the boot fits, you better damn sure take it off.”

Ryder scooted closer and met emerald eyes. Eyes he’d hoped had a little faith. Eyes he’d thought had thawed toward him. Eyes he believed had loved him at one time. Loved him enough that they’d created an amazing human being. Seeing them now questioning his motives punched him square in the gut.

“I didn’t come home for revenge. Buying the lake property was about saving and preserving Sky Lake. Saving my home so it was here for the long run. Here for me and for my parents and even for you.”

Peyton searched his face and, apparently satisfied, sat back in her chair. Her shoulders slumped, and she rubbed her forehead. “Why can’t you tell your father that?”

The surge of anger rushed through Ryder, and he breathed through his nose several times before speaking. “How do you know I haven’t tried?”

She scratched at the tablecloth, drawing circles that got progressively bigger. “How long were things bad between you?”

“For a while, but they got really bad when high school started.”

“What happened?”

Ryder slumped back in the chair and ran a hand through his hair. “If I knew that, I would have tried to fix it a long time ago.”

He pushed away from the linen-covered wood and strode out of the dining room. He’d told Peyton the truth. Whether she chose to believe it or not. He’d also spoken with his father, who obviously had chosen the latter. Now it was time for him to speak with his mom. Let her know as much as he could about what had happened over the years, why he’d left and why he’d come back. Maybe the third time would be a charm and leave him with someone questioning him less and believing in him more.

…

Peyton left the main lodge and debated where to hole up so she could martial the two million concerns swirling around her brain. All the barns had classes at the moment and there was a canoe class on the lake. Her house was too far, and she wasn’t sure where Ryder headed off to. So both Shelby’s house and the old caretaker cottage were out.

She crossed the road and walked down to the Arches barn. Finding one of her favorite mares happily munching away, she saddled Trixie up and ten minutes later walked up Southside Trail. It was the sunset trail and as it was only noon, she didn’t need to worry about any of the guests encountering her while she made sense of the last ten years of her life.

Ryder owned a business. A business he’d built from the ground up and was now using to get back at his father, who’d essentially sent his son running for the hills ten years ago by pegging him as a good-for-nothing wastrel.

That had been the eye-opening moment of the meeting—hearing the harsh words Mitchum tossed cavalierly at Ryder, knowing the pain they caused Ryder even if he kept the facade on. He’d shared a piece of why he had left but she now knew it was just a tip of the iceberg.

Mitchum had put all this in motion and she still didn’t understand why. She knew the man was capable of love. He lavished it on Melanie and more subtly on Peyton and Shelby. So why did he only have cold eyes and harsh demeaning words for his son?

She focused on the trail and Trixie. The mare probably could walk the thing backward with blinders on, but after the storm, Peyton wasn’t sure what they might find. Not that several ranch hands hadn’t probably already been through to make sure there were no problems. Safety was number one at Sky Lake. It had to be if they wanted to stay in business with today’s sue-happy society.

Reaching a somewhat level spot, Peyton returned her thoughts to Ryder. A small part still resented him leaving her all those years ago. Still hated the fact that Melanie had grown up without her father around, and yet the intensity of those thoughts and feelings had lessened. It was as if everything went out of focus and back in with the focal point shifted.

She knew all about unsupportive parents. Parents whose version of love consisted of lectures and putting on the proper face to the world, even if behind closed doors it was a version of Mommie Dearest. She’d always envied Ryder and his life. Growing up on the ranch, having to worry about nothing even with all the hard work involved. Having two parents who she thought loved and supported him and yet, just as her home had a Jekyll and Hyde persona, it appeared that Ryder had been dealing with the same thing.

The scrape of a hoof was her only warning. Pulling hard on the reins, she turned Trixie slightly to the right just as Dan came over the crest on Winston, his demon horse. A smile broke across his face, one Peyton easily returned. Dan stopped, keeping his stallion out of biting distance from her mare. The horse snorted and stomped, voicing his displeasure, but Dan controlled him with ease.

“Shouldn’t you be leading the lunch ride?”

Dan laughed. “Mr. Predictable. That’s me.”

There was an undercurrent to his tone that Peyton couldn’t place. “I didn’t mean it that way. You’re just the most experienced with that trail and the backpacking part.”

Dan shifted closer, and Trixie threw her head in protest. Peyton squeezed her knees and crooned.

“Well, Max asked if he could take it today and I agreed.”

Peyton laughed. “Blonde or brunette?”

“Redhead.”

“Ahhh.”

“So?”

Peyton took her gaze off the lake in the distance. “So what?”

“Ryder’s back.”

“Yes. He is.”

“And he plans on being involved with Melanie?”

“Of course.”

“And he now owns half of Sky Lake?”

Peyton wasn’t surprised that Dan of all people knew about the deal. He was the surrogate son. She’d never noticed cold eyes aimed at him from Mitchum. It would stand to reason that Mitchum would mention or even complain to Dan about it. Her fingers tightened on the reins as a heaviness settled in her stomach. Talking to Dan about the sale and even about Ryder wasn’t the right move.

“His company owns all the property surrounding the lake.”

She waited, but Dan remained silent. His gaze focused on the lake and all they could see from their vantage point.

“It’ll never be the same, will it?”

It would be the obvious choice to believe Dan was talking about the resort, but you didn’t work side by side someone for ten years and not know when they meant something else.

“I don’t see how it could be, but Ryder loves this place. The changes are to help Sky Lake.”

“Love?” Dan snorted. “He loved it so much he left his family high and dry.” He turned in the saddle, his voice softer. “He left you high and dry.”

Peyton sighed. She’d thought those exact words so many times over the years. When Shelby looked particularly haggard or when Mitchum went to the hospital, but she’d lacked critical information. At some point since his return, she’d forgiven Ryder. Not that he’d asked for it.

Still, she didn’t believe it was her place to enlighten Dan.

“I’m fine. Melanie’s fine. And I believe Sky Lake will be fine. The cabins will be a fabulous addition to the ranch and bring in much-needed money. And although my opinion might not mean much, I believe the last thing Ryder wants to do is drastically change his home.”

“Your opinion means a lot.” He glanced away. “And I hope you’re right. Because Sky Lake isn’t just Ryder’s home.” Dan tipped his hat and moved past Peyton. “See ya later.”

She didn’t follow him. Peyton had too many of her own feelings to deal with to attempt to take on or help with anyone else’s.

…

Ryder found his mother on her front porch, rocking and staring aimlessly at the grove of trees in front of her. Her arms hung over the sides of the chair and her shoulders sagged. Defeat poured off every line of her normally impenetrable body.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Ryder.” She didn’t glance at him or move in any way. Back and forth. Back and forth.

He slid into the chair beside her and matched her rhythm. “I guess Dad talked to you.”

She snorted. “Talk would imply any number of things. No, your father ranted and raved.”

“And you bore it like you always do.”

She stopped suddenly. “I love him, Ryder. You aren’t married to someone for over thirty years and not learn when to listen and accept, and when to fight back. That’s not bearing something. That’s a relationship. He wasn’t ranting at me.”

“He was ranting at me.”

She sighed and started rocking again. “And if you believe that, then you learned nothing in Alaska.”

Ryder hadn’t come to fight with his mother. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know what words had exchanged hands. The heaps of disappointment launched his way.

“So do you feel better? Feel better now that you’ve gotten your revenge.”

Ryder reached out and covered his mother’s hands. Hands that had worked hard their entire life and yet still had the capability to hold someone tenderly. “It wasn’t about revenge, Momma. I didn’t set out to buy the property. I set out to prove to myself I wasn’t the worthless piece of crap Dad thought I was.”

“Ryder. Your father has never thought that.”

It was Ryder’s turn to snort. “And if you believe that then you never looked close enough to really see me.”

He met his mother’s gaze and the tears threatening to spill over. “He loves you.”

“Well, then maybe the two of us have different definitions of love.” She opened her mouth, but he squeezed her hand to silence her. “Mom, I didn’t come here to talk about Dad or the property or anything else that happened today or in the past. I came to give you these.”

He reached into his coat and slid the packet of letters from the inside packet. He handed them over to his mother’s trembling hands, a question etched in her sun worn face.

“I wrote them to you over the years in addition to the ones I mailed. I just couldn’t bring myself to send them. I didn’t want to hurt you even more than I know I did. But I missed you, Mom. I thought about you all the time and about Sky Lake. Wondered and hoped that when the right time came for me to return they might help you understand. Just a bit. Why.”

She stared at the packet. A tear dropped onto the top one, the ink running instantly. Her foot restarted the back and forth motion.

“He had a heart attack.”

“What?”

She turned teary eyes his way. “Last year. Right before the sale. He still hasn’t forgiven Peyton and me for that. And now? Now to know it was you saving us, saving the ranch.”

“I had to,” Ryder whispered. “This is my home.”

He left then. Left his mom to read or think or continue staring. Whatever she needed to do at that moment. Because Ryder had some thinking and staring to do of his own. The critical information about his father’s health had paved the way for Ryder’s final piece in his plan for redemption and had set in motion his return to Fly Creek and Sky Lake. His father hadn’t thawed in all these years and now knowing the events that led to Ryder owning part of Sky Lake, he had a feeling his father had only grown more frigid.

…

Peyton stubbed her toe on the barstool and let out a string of inventive curses. She’d hated the stupid wrought iron things and they’d done battle more than once. But Mitch had made them, and Shelby, despite sharing Peyton’s distaste, had welcomed them with open arms. Love made even the sanest of people acquiesce.

She hobbled into the office off the kitchen. Shelby had told her the mockups with her notes on them should be sitting on the file cabinet, but the top of the cabinet was clean. She really didn’t want to root around, but the pamphlets needed to be ordered by this afternoon if they were to get them in time for the mass mailing.

Even though the cabins wouldn’t be done for another year, the ranch in general almost always booked a year out, so now was the time to drum up the business.

Several stacks of paper sat in the middle of huge wooden desk. As Peyton glanced across them, she noted most were accounting statements, bills, or vet reports. Sticking out of the back pile she caught the glossy reflection of the pamphlets and lifted the stack of papers to slide them out. As she did so, her hand toppled the stack of letters beside it. Replacing the papers, she put the pamphlets on the chair and gathered the letters, stacking them back up. Only then did she note they were addressed to Shelby with a return from Ryder.

What the hell?

Had Shelby been in more contact with Ryder over the years than she told her? Even as the surge of anger rode that thought, she realized the letter on top wasn’t postmarked. She lifted the top letter and the one after until she confirmed that every single one of them lacked a postmark. Why hadn’t Ryder sent them? Or maybe a better question was, why had he written them?

She’d assumed that he kept the contact so minimal because he hadn’t cared. She of course knew differently now, and there must be over forty letters there. A grown man didn’t write his mother if he didn’t care.

It was another piece in the Ryder puzzle she couldn’t figure out. She knew now about his father and the issue there. It had altered her view of him. Or rather the view of past him. Present Ryder wouldn’t come into focus no matter how much she adjusted her lens.

And now with the lake cabins moving full speed ahead, when would the true seed of resentment sprout? Had she read everything about him so totally wrong?

Her fingers itched to read just one letter, but despite the burning curiosity and the need to understand Ryder and how they could work together for Mel’s sake, she couldn’t bring herself to betray his, or Shelby’s, trust.

She neatened the stack and grabbed the pamphlets off the chair. Turning, she squealed. There, leaning against the archway, was Ryder, hands casually shoved in his jeans, although the rigid line of every muscle told a different story.

“Aren’t you going to read them?”

She glanced over her shoulder and back at him. “They’re not mine to read.”

He pushed away and stalked toward her. “And that’s stopping you?”

“What are you doing here?”

Ryder stopped in front of her. His height and bulk intimidating, but the look in his eyes wiped any physical intimidation away. “I wasn’t aware I needed a reason to be in my parents’ house. You, however?”

“Shelby sent me for these pamphlets. That’s all. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to work through these notes and get them sent off.”

She brushed by him, but he snagged her arm and held on. She could have tugged free, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of him thinking she couldn’t handle whatever argument he was spoiling to have.

“I’m not the total jerk you seemed to have pictured me to be over these years. I may not have handled things correctly, but I never ever meant to cause the issues that I did. I had reasons. Maybe they were selfish, maybe they were valid, but they were what drove me. What I didn’t let myself think about was the ripple effect back here.”

She didn’t know what he needed to hear.

That she forgave him.

That she didn’t hate him.

The problem was even if she did tell him that, which was the truth as far as she recognized inside herself, he wouldn’t accept the words until he’d forgiven himself.

Forgiven his role in what transpired after he left.

Forgiven himself for his role in their past.

His past.

“I’ve never thought you were a jerk,” she whispered. “I’ve wondered about your reasons, worried about your safety, and yes, cursed you a few times when things were so rough I didn’t think it fair you didn’t have to shoulder some of the burden.” She met his brown gaze, so similar to their daughter’s. “But never have I thought you were a jerk. I guess deep down I always knew you had a reason even if you were the only one who might have thought it a good one.”

He snorted, and it confirmed that her words were lost on deaf ears. She turned to face him and for once ignored the chemistry that arced through the room. This was beyond the physical. “Ryder, no one can forgive you. No one can move on until you recognize and forgive yourself.” She traced a finger down his sharply lined jaw, stubble rough under her fingertips. He covered her hand with his own.

“I want to, but how can I forgive when the pain and trouble runs so deep with everyone that to open myself up and recognize my part in it might be more than I can handle.”

If he’d argued with any other excuse, she’d have walked away. But to admit to her a fear no cowboy would ever own up to was the first step toward reconciliation all around.

“You can handle it, Ryder. I know it. Your mother knows it. But what you need to understand is that you wouldn’t be handling it alone. I’m here for you. Your mom is, too, and even Mel in her own innocent way. You just have to allow us to help you and realize that you’re helping us, too. It’s all connected and it affects us all.”

His head dropped, along with his shoulders, and she stepped into his body, wrapping him up as tight as her smaller frame would allow. It was a hug of comfort, of love and of forgiveness. She hadn’t realized she’d truly forgiven him until that moment. Until he’d dropped the barrier and allowed her access to his turmoil. She’d had glimpses over the past few weeks but until his eyes screamed in helplessness she hadn’t understood the depth.

“Thank you,” he murmured. His voice wrapping around her like her favorite quilt. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and stepped away. He looked like he wanted to say more, but in the end, he tipped his hat and left her standing in the middle of his mother’s office.