“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Nichole walked into their small kitchen, crossed her arms over her chest and eyed her son. Mud coated his running shoes, splattered up his shins and covered the knees of his sweatpants. More mud flaked through his hair and smeared across one cheek.
Wesley closed the freezer door and concentrated on closing the large plastic bag filled with ice cubes. “Making an ice pack.”
“I can see that.” Nichole picked up a stray ice cube from the floor and tossed it in the sink. “Why? Did you hurt your knee at the Pioneers Camp?” She’d met with the owners of Tally’s Corner Market and secured them as a vendor for her app. Chase had offered to take Wesley to the camp. They both had convinced her nothing would happen. Nothing other than fun with the other kids. Worry sheared through her.
“It’s not for me.” Wesley bent his left knee and his right as if to prove he remained in perfect health. “Chase needs it.”
“Chase?” Nichole touched her hair as if she suddenly cared what he thought about her appearance. “He’s here?” He was only supposed to drop Wesley off. They hadn’t planned anything else. Not like a date or dinner. She glanced at the ice pack. “And Chase asked you to get him an ice pack.” Another worry sliced through her. What had happened?
“He’d never do that.” Wesley shook his head and wrapped a kitchen towel around the bag of ice. “But he really needs it.”
“How do you know that?” Nichole blocked Wesley’s exit.
“I just do.” He avoided looking at her and fiddled with the edge of the towel.
“What happened?”
“You can’t tell anyone.” Wesley looked around as if making certain no one else stood in the kitchen. His voice was tense and determined. “You have to promise, Mom. You can’t even tell Chase that you know.”
“I promise.”
Wesley eyed her and shook his head. “You need to promise on Great-gramma’s favorite glass pie dish.”
“It’s that serious?” she pressed. They only reserved Great-gramma’s favorite pie pan for unbreakable vows. Things like promising to only hit the snooze button twice in the morning. Or to do one kind thing for a stranger each day. Or never leaving anyone behind.
His nod was too solemn, his gaze too somber.
“Then I promise on Great-gramma’s favorite pie dish.” Nichole took the ice pack and sealed the top of the bag tightly.
“Chase hurt his shoulder at Pioneers Camp, but he doesn’t want anyone to know.” Wesley grabbed the bag from Nichole and hugged the ice pack as if the cold would cancel his confession.
“But you know,” she said.
Wesley arched one eyebrow. “Because I was right there beside him when it happened.”
“Were you involved?” Neither Wesley nor Chase would have talked each other out of any fun at the camp.
Wesley shook his bangs out of his eyes. “Sort of. But it wasn’t my fault or Chase’s.”
Nichole tilted her head at him and waited. Wesley relied on the very same argument quite often, as did Ben, when the boys wanted to protect each other. Now Wesley wanted to protect Chase. Made Chase an ice pack and made Nichole swear on Great-gramma’s cherished pie dish not to tell anyone about Chase’s injury. Her son had bonded with Chase. And she had done nothing to stop it. She’d done little to stop herself. Nichole concentrated on Wesley. She’d deal with breaking bonds later.
“Beau Bradford challenged Chase to the obstacle course.” Wesley wiped his hand underneath his nose. “Chase accepted and won.”
“If he won, then he couldn’t have gotten that hurt,” Nichole argued, and cautioned her concern to back off. What could’ve happened on a kids’ obstacle course? Between the tire race and balance beams she’d once seen in the school gym, she couldn’t imagine Chase could’ve put much strain on his shoulder.
“Mom.” Disbelief amplified his round eyes and his stunned tone. “Chase never used his right arm the rest of the morning. Not once.”
“How do you know that?”
“I stood beside him the whole time,” Wesley said. “On his right side.”
Wesley had never left Chase’s injured side the rest of the morning. No doubt he’d been guarding Chase. That was Wesley’s way—to always look after the ones in need. Nichole grabbed the ice bag. “Where is he?”
Wesley pointed behind her. “On the back porch.”
Nichole spun around and hurried onto the porch. Chase sat on the couch, head back, eyes closed. He braced his right arm in his lap. His entire face pinched together and held. An ache punched through her core and she hurt for him.
Wesley tripped over the door ledge. Chase’s gaze landed on Nichole and the shadows returned, locking her out. He straightened, started to push himself off the couch.
Nichole rushed over to his side and pressed the ice bag toward him. “You need to sit back and put this on your shoulder.”
“It’s...” Chase dropped back against the couch.
“Totally not fine.” Nichole sat next to him and handed him the ice.
“Sorry, Chase.” Wesley shuffled his feet and muttered at the ground. “Mom figured out you were hurt.”
“That’s a mom’s job.” Weariness, not irritation or anger, coated his words. “It’s what makes your mom the best, and you, too. Thanks for getting me an ice pack.”
Wesley perked up and pointed at the ice bag. “I even wrapped it in Mom’s special towel. Whenever she makes me an ice pack, she tells me that towel is the secret healer, even though it has so many hearts and flowers all over it.” Wesley grimaced as if hearts and flowers ruined his taste buds.
“I need all the secret healing I can get.” Chase set his hand on the flowery towel as if wanting to absorb every flower, heart and any good energy.
“Wesley, go jump in the shower and then get everything you need for the farm.” Nichole watched him race toward the door, then she called out, “And make sure you wash all the mud off your face, hair and body.”
“I got this, Mom.” Wesley’s footsteps pounded up the stairs to the second floor.
“Wesley gave me his version. Now I want yours.” Nichole dropped onto the couch beside Chase. “What exactly did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Chase pushed himself off the couch, away from Nichole and the ice pack. He paced the small room. “I couldn’t read the teleprompter.”
“What?” Nichole followed his restless path across the porch and back.
“They wouldn’t let Wesley on camera. Something about waivers and release forms needing to be signed by a guardian or parent, then legal needed to get involved.” He picked up one of Wesley’s baseball caps from the side table and traced his finger over the faded Pioneers’ emblem. His voice as worn as the rim on the hat. “Wesley called me his new dad. I couldn’t disappoint him.”
That sealed the bond. It was mutual between Wesley and Chase. Nichole sidestepped that disaster and concentrated on Chase’s version of the morning. She said, “But...”
“But I couldn’t read the script on the teleprompter. It was scrolling way too fast and I didn’t want to ask them to slow it down so I could read it.” Anger and frustration tinged his admission. He tossed the baseball cap on the table and continued his restless movements. “So, I went off script.”
“And ran the obstacle course.” He’d always chosen physical pain. Nichole wanted to reach for him, hold him until he lowered his guard. Until he let her in. Then promise he’d always be safe with her. But she was afraid she wouldn’t be enough. She was only one woman in his world—a world filled with spotlights and so many adoring fans.
“It was my shoulder or my reading. You know I hate reading out loud.” A bleakness outlined Chase like a second shadow, exposing his inner fear and turmoil. “I chose the shoulder.”
Nichole wanted him to choose her. She wanted to choose him. Impossible. She’d decided in the beginning no amendments would be accepted to their arrangement. She couldn’t change the terms now. Couldn’t allow hearts and emotions to undermine their deal. She also couldn’t leave him. Not like this: in pain and alone.
Upstairs, she heard the shower turn off and Wesley thumping around his bedroom.
“Let’s go.” Nichole grabbed the ice pack, opened the screened door and motioned into the backyard. Chase followed her around the side of the house and into the driveway. She opened the passenger door of Chase’s truck. “Get in and give me the keys.”
“Why?” He eyed her, then the front seat of his truck, but never moved.
“Because I’m driving.” She held out her hand.
“Where?” He clutched his keys.
“You should just give her the keys, Chase.” Wesley dragged his suitcase across the gravel driveway and paused beside Chase.
“I should?” Chase widened his stance as if joining forces with Wesley.
“She always wins.” Wesley wheeled his suitcase into his leg as if he intended to use his luggage for a chair to observe their standoff. “Especially when she gets like this.”
“We’re going to my grandparents and you’re coming along.” Nichole picked up Wesley’s suitcase and tossed it into the back seat of the truck. “Your truck fits tall people better than my car.”
“Cool.” Wesley climbed into the back seat. “Chase, you get to have Great-gramma’s apple pie and meet Great-granddad’s horses.”
Nichole held her palm out and stared at him.
“I can stay here.” Dark circles filled in his skin underneath his eyes. He’d hate that she noticed.
She disliked his misplaced pride. She shifted into her authoritative mom stance. “You’ll get in the car and put the ice pack Wesley got you on your shoulder.”
Chase obeyed.
“She’s only like this with the people she cares about.” Wesley accepted the ice pack from Nichole and scooted between the front seats to continue his counsel. “At least, that’s what she always tells me.”
She often told Wesley she only bossed around the people she loved. She cared about Chase, but love... Nichole climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors and her feelings. “I’ve always liked trucks.” Had she always liked Chase, too?
“You can drop me off at home and still take my truck.” His voice lacked his usual persuasive edge. His tone drifted into uncertain.
“Not happening.” Nichole reversed out of the driveway. “If you’re at home, you might find yourself accepting another challenge from your teammates or friends. I won’t be there to stop you.”
Wesley giggled in the back seat.
A faint smile slipped across Chase’s face. And Nichole grinned, even more certain she’d done the right thing.
Chase adjusted the ice pack and leaned the seat back, dropped his head on the headrest and promptly fell asleep. Wesley stretched out on the bench seat, propped his pillow on the door and copied Chase, quickly falling asleep, too. The only difference—Chase slept with a grimace on his face, Wesley a grin. Wesley had always been hers to protect. She shouldn’t want to protect Chase now. She had the rest of the drive to get over her wants and focus on her priorities.
Over an hour later, the ice pack leaked down the front of Chase’s shirt yet hadn’t woken him up. However, the bumps on the dirt road leading to her grandparent’s farm jarred him wide-awake.
Served him right. Accepting an obstacle course challenge to keep from disappointing Wesley. Exhaustion paled his skin and pooled under his eyes even after his nap. He spent too much time running around, being everything to everyone and forgot to take care of himself along the way.
The truck bounced over two more dirt holes and bounced frustration and awareness through Nichole. Chase was a grown man. He should know how to take care of himself. He wasn’t her responsibility.
Nichole glanced over at Chase. “Sorry. I’ve been trying to miss the potholes, but it’s impossible.” Almost as impossible as not noticing every detail about Chase. Or not wanting to take care of him, too.
“Thanks for looking out for me.” Chase reached over and grabbed her hand. “The ice and nap helped.”
Still, pain lingered at the edges of his eyes and his voice. Nichole twisted her fingers around his, telling herself she’d let go soon enough. She looked in the rearview mirror. “Wesley, you awake back there?”
Wesley leaned on the center console between Chase and Nichole. “I can’t believe we’re here already. We need to take Chase’s truck more often. It’s faster than your car, Mom.”
But if they took Chase’s truck, they’d have to take Chase. She’d only brought him now to keep an eye on him. Nichole parked the truck and waved to her grandparents, who were stepping off the porch that wrapped around their ranch-style home.
Wesley launched himself out of the car and raced to hug his great-grandparents. “Great-granddad, I promised Chase he could meet Buckeye.”
“I don’t believe I ever met Buckeye.” Chase reached out to shake her Grandpa Harland’s hand.
“Clover’s foal. You’ll remember her.” Her grandfather slapped his hand on Chase’s back in an open hug he only ever reserved for those he liked. “Good to see you, son.”
Grandma Marie embraced Chase, then Nichole. “The boys can check on Buckeye while we put out supper.”
Supper? Nichole had only planned to drop off Wesley, stay long enough for a glass of fresh lemonade and maybe a cookie or two. She hadn’t mentioned supper to Chase. Supper had long been her grandparents’ main and longest meal of the day. Supper was an occasion, inviting family and guests to settle in around the dining room table, reminisce and bond. Nichole released her grandmother. “We can’t...”
“We can’t eat too much at supper or we won’t have room for apple pie.” Chase set his hand on Nichole’s lower back. His voice, dynamic and excited, overrode any pain he might be feeling. “I heard a rumor about apple pie.”
Wesley laughed. “It’s not a rumor.”
“If this apple pie has two scoops of homemade vanilla ice cream on each slice, then it sure is real.” Grandpa Harland high-fived Wesley.
“The pie is already in the oven.” Her grandmother brushed at the water stain on Chase’s shirt. “We’ve got warmer clothes inside the house. I’ll get you a dry shirt.”
“You always did look after me.” Chase pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s sun-stained forehead. “Any chance we can have dessert before supper?”
“The answer is still no.” Her grandmother touched Chase’s cheek and shook her head, loosening several pure white curls from her bun. “You always did like to live in reverse.”
Chase laughed, released her and walked to the stables with Grandpa Harland and Wesley.
Nichole wrapped her arm around her grandmother’s waist, both for comfort and support. The pair strolled back to the house. “What did you mean that Chase likes to live in reverse?”
“Your grandfather always said Chase jumped first, then looked for a good place to land.”
“Unlike me.” Nichole opened the front door for her grandmother.
Her grandmother chuckled and patted Nichole’s shoulder. “You always looked and looked. Then you’d look again. You spent so much time looking, you never jumped.”
“Until the one day I jumped.” And ended up pregnant, alone and heartbroken. She followed her grandmother into the open kitchen and stared at the feast spread over every counter. Nichole hadn’t confirmed Chase would be coming. “This looks like Thanksgiving.” For the neighbors and their families.
“I knew you’d bring Chase.” Her grandmother checked a pot on the stove.
Nichole hadn’t known until right before they’d left. And she’d only forced Chase to ride along to rest his injured shoulder. At least she hadn’t jumped yet with Chase. Hadn’t let her heart float too long in those deceptive clouds.
Her grandmother tapped a spoon against a saucepan. “You do know you ended up with the best gift ever—your son—when you took that leap.”
Nichole opened the silverware drawer, took out forks and knives and stepped into the routine as familiar and comfortable as a worn pair of jeans. She’d always set the table while her grandmother cooked and her grandfather finished in the barn. Normal bolstered her. There was strength in the typical. In the known. “I want Wesley to be proud of me.”
“We all are.” Her grandmother squeezed Nichole’s arm, her warm gaze full of sunshine and love.
“I feel like I’m getting this parent thing wrong most days. And making it up the other days.” Now she’d allowed Wesley and Chase to bond. Surely that was a mistake. She should’ve dropped Chase at his house like he’d requested. But she’d sensed the loneliness inside him and only wanted him not to hurt anymore.
“You’re too busy second-guessing yourself. You’re missing all you’ve done right.” Her grandmother retied her apron as if to support her insight.
“Wesley is a great kid.” Nichole added plates and napkins to the table. “He’s funny, smart and works hard.”
“You’ve taught him that.” Her grandmother handed her a serving bowl of creamed corn.
“I want to protect him.” From Chase. From getting hurt. From suffering. And she wanted to protect herself. But she worried she might already be too late.
Her grandmother shuffled back to the stove. “Sometimes the best we can do is love them with all we’ve got.”
“And when they get hurt?” Nichole picked up the salad bowl.
“We love them that much harder.”
Nichole clutched the stainless steel bowl against her stomach. “Is that enough?”
“Love is always enough.” Her grandmother smiled and tipped her head toward the wide windows.
Her love hadn’t been enough before. Nichole watched the trio crossing the yard from the stables. Wesley chattered between her grandfather and Chase. Both men laughed and added their own commentary to Wesley’s story. Three generations together. Wesley could learn from both her grandfather and Chase. Things she couldn’t teach her son. “Love is also a big risk.”
“Some risks are worth taking.” Her grandmother opened the stove and poked at her apple pie.
Nichole turned her back on the window and everything she was too scared to want. “But if I risk and take the leap, I might land wrong.”
“Or you might land exactly where you’re meant to be.” Her grandmother carried a large roasted turkey to the table.
How could she trust that? She’d landed wrong before.
Wesley burst through the back door and announced, “Grandpa Harland says we can ride tomorrow.”
“In the corral only,” Nichole cautioned.
“He’s ready for more.” Her grandfather pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Nichole shared a look with her grandmother and admitted, “I’m not.”