Callum was still raw from the middle of the night scene with Iris when he made his way downstairs the next morning. He was in rough shape. Bristly facial hair covered his chin and cheeks, and he stunk from his exercise climbing the stairs the night before.
He would have to see about getting a shower later. Maybe he could sit on the lip of the tub and wash up.
He needed an ibuprofen or three to deal with the pain throbbing through his leg. And maybe some therapy for the residual pain he felt that echoed in Iris's eyes. He needed to call his sponsor.
As he wrangled the crutches down the stairs and held on to the railing for dear life, he heard pots banging and the boys chattering from the kitchen.
He was sweaty and shaky again when he hit the ground floor. He leaned against the wall, heart pounding.
Iris found him there when she came around the corner and stopped short.
Her disapproval was evident in her frown. He remembered that expression.
"I was coming to check on you," she said. "I thought you'd still be in bed."
She made it sound like a federal crime that he'd come downstairs.
"Good morning to you too."
He probably shouldn't tease her. But he was stiff and sore and frustrated at his stupid broken leg. Hobbling around like a grandpa, not even able to get to his own sons when they needed him.
Now her frown twisted. "I was going to bring you up some breakfast."
The undeserved kindness she was showing him burned like hot coals.
"I'm not an invalid. I won't spend my time sitting on my patootie all day."
Now her brows rose in what must be indignation. "Isn't that exactly what the doctor said to do?"
He shrugged. "I'll do my best to pull my weight, and we'll stay out of your way as much as we can."
"You don't need to. I offered to help with the boys, didn't I?"
He didn't want to need her help. It made his words sharp when he said, "I'll pull my weight."
He was stunned when her face crumpled. He'd seen that face before. Always came right before the tears.
He reached for her, forgetting about the crutch. It started to fall.
She whirled away from his reaching hand, and he had just enough time to grab the crutch before it clattered to the floor. He watched her retreating back as she slipped back into the kitchen. Had he made her cry? What a heel.
Whatever emotion had crossed her face, she didn't deserve it from him. She'd rearranged her life to accommodate him and three little boys.
Shame and self-directed fury rolled through him and he pushed toward the kitchen when what he really wanted to do was go to his room and lick his wounds.
He passed into the room. It had been updated since he'd been here last, with new stone countertops and stainless appliances. Sunlight streamed in the windows and gilded the boys' hair where they sat at the round table in the nook. Jilly was with them. All four banged their forks on the wooden surface, creating quite a racket.
Iris had her back to him at the stove. She whirled a whisk in a bowl of eggs.
Was it his imagination or had she raised her shoulder to wipe at her face?
The fist inside his stomach tightened.
"Sit down," she ordered him, nodding to the table. All without looking at him.
He maneuvered into one of the empty chairs and noticed Jilly's instant glare. Crap.
"Morning," he said quietly to her. To the boys, he smiled. "Hey guys!"
He felt Iris's presence beside him before he looked up. She pulled another chair out from the table and, keeping her face averted, lifted his leg gently, setting it on the chair. She stuffed a pillow beneath his foot.
"All right?"
"Fine." His voice was more gruff than he'd intended, but his knee burned where she'd touched him. "Thanks," he added.
Jilly had given him the silent treatment yesterday, and, considering how she glared at him, this morning didn't appear to be going any better.
And he was tired enough that it made him irritable. "You gonna ignore me all day again?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. She was wearing a ball cap today with her hair tucked up inside it. He didn't remember her liking hats so much, but she'd worn a frilly, decorated one to church yesterday. "So you're back in town."
"We gots us a house," sang Brandt.
Iris plunked a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He reached for the syrup.
"An' daddy's gots lots of tractors," Tyler said shyly.
"Is that right?" Jilly spoke kindly to his boys, but her lips firmed when she so much as glanced at him.
"Uh huh," Levi chimed in, mouth full to overflowing.
"I invested some of my winnings in Buck's harvesting company." He didn't divulge more about his plans.
"Were you planning to drive a combine all summer?"
He nodded. "Now I've been set back a few weeks."
"More than a few weeks," Iris muttered. She set a plate of scrambled eggs in the center of the table.
"I don't remember you cooking much," he said. And then snapped his mouth shut. He shouldn't talk about their past. He reached for the boys' plates and scraped some eggs onto them. His leg panged as he settled back into the seat. He gritted his teeth against the pain.
"I'm sure there are lots of things about me you wouldn't know now."
He couldn't get a look at her face as she poured pancake batter onto a griddle and it began to sizzle. She had a cup of coffee beside her—he could smell the savory brew from here. He was stunned when she took a sip. She'd never drunk the stuff before.
Things were so awkward between them now. Could he actually manage to live here for the couple of weeks he needed to recover?
His eyes lingered on her lithe form. She'd mentioned an injury, but she still looked like the dancer she was. Why stay in Redbud Trails? Why not return to New York?
The mystery ate at him.
"What about the boys?"
He looked at Jilly questioningly, having lost the thread of conversation.
"Were you going to haul the boys along with you all summer?"
"I plan on looking for a nanny."
"So you'll leave them with a stranger all summer?" she asked softly.
The boys were stuffing their faces with the pancakes Iris had given them and didn't seem to be paying attention.
"I'll come home every weekend I can," he said, an undertone of steel in his voice. Jilly had some nerve questioning him.
"Jilly, leave it alone," Iris said quietly.
He appreciated Iris taking up for him, but he could fight his own battles. Always had.
"What about you?" he asked Jilly, hoping to turn the tables. "You going to college? Working?"
He thought she sighed softly, but he couldn't be sure. "None of the above, not right now."
He knew their dad was well off, had always been. And Joe had left them the ranch. It had been a profitable venture five years ago, and the industry hadn't changed that much.
"Jilly is a big help running this place. We hire someone to cultivate the wheat for us and manage the cattle, but we care for the horses on our own."
His eyes went to the fields out the back window. Why was Iris wasting her talent here?
"You should go back to bed, try to sleep some more," Iris offered. "Your body has been through a lot in the last couple of days."
He wasn't even done with his pancakes yet. "Trying to get rid of me?"
Her eyes flashed angrily, and his appetite fled.
He stood, balanced on one crutch, and grabbed his plate to take to the sink.
"I'd like to try and shower, then I'll take over with the boys."
Iris met him before he'd even taken a step. "I'll take your plate. And we've already said we're fine watching the boys."
He gripped the plate tighter. She tugged, but he was determined to do it himself.
"I'm sure you've got plenty of things to do, better than waiting on me and babysitting my sons."
He just couldn't imagine what that would be in Redbud Trails.
"I don't have anything better to do than help a friend in need." But she kept her eyes downcast as she said it.
"The Iris I knew before would've been out chasing her dreams instead of this."
Now her eyes snapped up and locked on his. He heard Jilly speaking quietly to the boys at the table behind. He ignored her, wrapped up in the woman beside him.
He saw emotions dancing in the depths of her eyes before she shuttered them. "That Iris is no more."
She tried harder to tug the plate from his hand, but this time he tugged back.
"What happened to her? Don't tell me she stayed here waiting on a rodeo cowboy." He felt a little foolish putting words to the fear. Had he ruined her life?
Fire snapped in her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Then why did you stay?"
"Mostly to care for her sister fighting breast cancer," Jilly said icily from behind him. He winced, wishing he'd waited for a more private time to talk to Iris.
Then Jilly's words fully registered, and he froze.
Iris watched as Callum's expression changed. He looked as if she'd struck him unexpectedly.
He'd gotten too close. Or she had. She was close enough to count his eyelashes, and saw his eyes darken with understanding and compassion.
Breath caught in her chest, aching there. She hadn't wanted him to know. Jilly had asked her to keep it private, but she was the one who'd blurted the secret.
Even if he thought she'd had no life and stayed in Redbud Trails waiting for him, she wanted to protect her sister's fragile emotions.
And she knew that the next time he looked at her, he would see through the calm veneer she showed the world. He always had.
She finally got the plate out of his hand and busied herself rinsing it in the sink. It was a relief when she heard his bumping, heavy tread move out of the kitchen toward what had been Uncle Joe's study.
"Why did you do that?" she turned on Jilly, who was attacking Tyler with a wet wipe.
"I didn't want him thinking you'd stayed here waiting for him."
She took the rag to the table and scrubbed at the syrup that stained the top, mostly where the boys had been sitting. "It's not your business."
Jilly finished wiping Brandt's mouth and shooed the boys into the living room. She propped one hand on her hip. "You don't need him messing with your emotions all over again."
"He's not." But Iris had the sense it wasn't true even as she said the words. She was still tied to Callum. She didn't love him anymore. She couldn't, not after he'd disappeared and abandoned her without a goodbye.
Jilly watched her with an intensity that had Iris squirming. Probably the same intensity Iris turned on her sister when she knew she wasn't feeling well after a treatment, and Jilly wouldn't admit to it. She scrubbed the table with more force that it probably required. "I won't let myself get involved with him again."
Jilly muttered something under her breath. Iris couldn't make it out. Jilly turned for the living room. "I can watch the squirts for half hour, but then I have to log on for my class." She was taking a couple online university courses over the summer, trying not to fall too far behind. At one point, Jilly had been so passionate about becoming an early childhood schoolteacher, but that passion seemed to have waned in this last round of treatments. At least she was still taking the classes. She needed to hold onto that hope—they both did.
Iris used the half hour to right things in the barn, doing a quick mucking of the worst of the stalls. She would have to find a free hour tomorrow to do a more thorough job, but for today, this was all she could manage.
The activity didn't help her swirling thoughts. Finally, she moved in front of Star's stall. The gelding belonged to her, not the ranch. Uncle Joe had given him to her about a year after Champ's death. She hadn't been able to face being on a horse's back in all those months, not until she'd met this magnificent animal.
Star lifted his fine-boned head over the stall door and whickered at her. She rubbed one hand against his nose and scratched beneath his forelock. "Hello, there."
He nuzzled her chin, and she felt a release of some of the tension knotting her shoulders. She exhaled a long breath, then inhaled horse and sweet hay.
This would remain, after Callum went back to his life. The ranch, the horses. Sisterly arguments with Jilly.
She had to believe that Jilly would survive. The doctors had given her a good prognosis.
On the timeline of her life, these weeks with Callum and the triplets would eventually fade to a blip. A speck.
She just had to make it through with her heart intact.