Hope for Tomorrow

by Elizabeth Maddrey

  Morgan’s eyebrows lifted. Sponsored videos? Great. He was one of the millions of fame-seeking attention hounds the Internet had unleashed on the earth. And Skye helped him? He snorted.

  “Yeah, I know.” Skye rolled her eyes and reached for the green beans. “But he likes it and he’s making a living. So, whatever.”

  “It’s certainly an interesting choice.” Betsy reached for the pitcher of water and filled her glass. “I don’t always love his choices, but he’s definitely fearless.”

  “You’ve watched them?” Cyan’s disbelief came across loud and clear.

  “Of course I have. Just like I’ve followed your company’s website looking for accolades that you earn, gallery announcements for Azure, and I bought some yarn that Indigo spun and dyed that I keep meaning to knit into a scarf.” Betsy smiled. “I keep tabs on my grandchildren, even if they don’t know I exist.”

  “And me?” Skye looked down at her plate, like she hadn’t meant to speak.

  “And you. Although you’re harder. You’ve helped Royal a few times, and I enjoyed those videos, but the rest of your social media is locked down and private, so it’s harder to stalk.”

  Skye laughed.

  Morgan nodded. “Smart. That’s the smart way to do things. None of this online exhibitionism.”

  “Oh, now, Morgan. They’re not exhibitionists. Well, Royal might be. The rest are just working and making a living. Is Cyan supposed to tell his company they can’t mention his contributions to their success online?”

  “Actually.” Cyan chewed and swallowed. “I do tell them that. They just don’t always listen. If they had their way, there’d be more of it up there, but I don’t want to be singled out. We have a solid team and they all pull their weight. It’s not fair to single anyone out.”

  “There are kids in my class who have phones.” Calvin piped up, sliding his eyes over to his mom. “That way their moms can always get a hold of them.”

  “Uh huh. No phone for you until you’re fourteen.” Maria shot him a quelling look when he opened his mouth.

  Morgan grinned. “Your mom’s smart, Cal. Phones seem like they’d be a lot of fun. Maybe even useful. But there’s a lot that goes on online—and phones are easy access—that kids your age don’t need to be involved in.”

  Calvin frowned and muttered, “It’s not fair.”

  Morgan fought a chuckle. It probably didn’t seem fair, but he’d been the one to suggest to Maria that she make it at least until he was fourteen—although pushing it longer wouldn’t be a bad thing—before giving the kid a phone. His time on the force had convinced him that any kids he might have eventually were going to live offline for as long as possible. “This is delicious, as always, Maria.”

  Maria smiled and shot him a grateful glance. “Thanks. Calvin made the potatoes.”

  “Nice job, champ.” Cyan reached behind Skye and ruffled the boy’s hair. “You going to help me with KP after we eat?”

  “Do I have to?”

  Cyan nodded. “Yup.”

  “I can help.” Skye glanced at her brother. “I’d like to.”

  “Nope. We’ve got it. Maybe you and Morgan could go for a ride. The weather’s nice.”

  “I wanna go for a ride.” Calvin’s mouth drew down into a pout. “That’s not fair either.”

  Betsy sipped her water. “Maybe if you do a good job helping Cyan with the dishes, you and I can do a little work in the ring.”

  “Really?” Everything about Calvin brightened.

  “I should stay then. Help with that.” Morgan looked between Betsy and Calvin. Betsy knew her way around horses, but she usually got him to do the saddling and grooming. It was his job, after all.

  “Pish posh. Go for a ride. It’s your day off.” Betsy waved away his objections.

  “I’m not sure Skye—”

  “Skye would like that, actually.” Skye met his gaze and held it.

  Heat crept up his neck as they locked eyes. But still he pushed. “You don’t need to lie down? What if you weren’t car sick? You could be coming down with something.”

  “I’m fine. And I think another chance to ride a horse is exactly what the doctor ordered.” Her entire expression challenged him to object again.

  Morgan nodded once. “All right. You’re the boss.”

  Cyan frowned across the table at him. “Could you help me clear the table, Morgan?”

  “Sure.” Morgan stood and lifted his place setting before striding toward the kitchen.

  “What was that?” Cyan set down the dishes he was carrying.

  “What was what?” Morgan knew what, but he wasn’t walking into a scolding from Skye’s brother without giving as good as he got.

  “That thing between you and Skye. What’s going on? She’s only been here a week!” Cyan planted his hands on his hips and scowled.

  Morgan held up his hands. “Whoa.”

  “Look, man, she’s got stuff going on and I’m not sure—”

  “Isn’t that up to her?” Morgan didn’t usually interrupt people, but he wasn’t going to stand by and get yelled at when he hadn’t done anything. “She’s a grown up.”

  Cyan took a deep breath in through his nose. “Okay. You’re right.”

  “Do you trust her?”

  “Yeah. I do. It’s just—has she said anything to you?”

  Morgan shook his head. She hadn’t. And it scraped at him. Because he’d been around her for enough of her episodes that it was obvious that something wasn’t right. “I keep leaving the door open for her and she skirts around it.”

  Cyan’s lips twitched. “That’s Skye. Have you asked her?”

  “Nah. It’s her business. I’m just a ranch hand.”

  Cyan snorted. “Since when.”

  “I’m not going to get involved, okay? If Betsy wants us to ride this afternoon, we’ll ride. But your sister is safe with me.”

  “All right. Sorry. I’m worried about her.”

  Morgan punched Cyan’s shoulder. He didn’t pull back quite as much as he usually would—he really didn’t appreciate being taken to task when he hadn’t done anything wrong. “You’re praying, right? That’s the first place to start.”

  Cyan rubbed his arm. “Yeah.”

  “I’m going to slip out the mudroom. Let your sister know I’ll be in the stable, would you? If she wants to ride, great. If not, I’ve got plenty in there that’ll keep me out of trouble.”

  “I thought we didn’t work on Sundays here.”

  “Hanging with the horses is never work.” Morgan gave a brief wave and headed out. He frowned. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to go riding with Skye this afternoon—he’d been planning an extended space battle on the console—but now that the possibility seemed less likely, he was disappointed.

  Did that make him perverse?

  As much as he tried to tell himself he wasn’t interested in Skye Hewitt, he’d never been able to lie to himself for long.

  Morgan flicked on the lights in his office and let out a hearty sigh. Monday mornings weren’t exciting. It didn’t matter that he loved his job. He’d already put the horses out and attended to their stalls and now it was time for the paperwork. There was feed to be ordered. Hay. He needed to touch base with their new stabling client and make sure everything was set for them to bring the horse up on Thursday.

  The list of tasks waiting wasn’t enough to keep his mind off yesterday afternoon. Skye had decided not to ride after all. Was it because of Cyan or something else? So Morgan had hung around and helped Calvin and Betsy work in the jumping ring. The boy was getting better. He was likely to start bugging Maria about real lessons before much longer. Maybe even competing. They’d talked about it some in the fall, but nothing had been said since Calvin’s diabetes diagnosis.

  Maria had been on the border of over protective before the medical complication. Now? It seemed like she never let Calvin out of her sight. How Cyan, Betsy, and Wayne had convinced her to go back to New York without Calvin was a mystery.
Probably had something to do with love.

  He laughed.

  “What’s funny?” Skye stood in the doorway, her hands tucked in her pockets.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t getting into that with Cyan’s sister. “Random thought. What brings you out this way?”

  “I wanted to apologize for standing you up yesterday.”

  Standing him up? He waved away her words. It wasn’t like it had been a date. “No big deal. Feeling better?”

  “That’s the thing.” She frowned and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. “Can I sit down?”

  “Sure.” The chair was dusty—that happened in stables—but if she didn’t mind, he didn’t. He waited for her to sit then perched on the edge of the desk, close enough that their knees nearly bumped. Was it too close? It seemed friendlier than going around to the other side like she was there as an employee or subordinate. “What’s up?”

  “I caught a little of what Cyan said to you. Sorry about that. He’s always been over protective. Both of my brothers are.”

  “That’s their job.” He didn’t have sisters, but if he did, Morgan imagined he’d react the same way.

  “Well, I’m old enough now I think they should retire, but whatever. The point is I owe you an explanation. Or as much of one as I have.” Skye swallowed and twisted her fingers in her lap. “My health has been deteriorating for close to a year. I feel like it happened super fast—almost like I woke up one morning feeling hung over, even though I hadn’t been drinking the night before, and it hasn’t changed. Now, almost every morning is like that. And sometimes in the middle of the day. The doctors think maybe it’s anxiety, but I’d cut out everything that could possibly be causing problems until finally, I just quit my job, packed my car, and came here. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Wow.”

  She snorted. “Basically. So now you know. It’s not that I can’t hike because I’m so out of shape, but half-way up, I started feeling like I was going to pass out. My heart was racing. I wasn’t sure if I was going to throw up or not. It was everything I could do to put one foot in front of the next without stumbling.”

  “It’s not anxiety?” It sounded like it—pounding heart, nausea, light headedness—those were some of the same symptoms that had sent him to the department shrink when he’d been on the force. They were some of the symptoms that had, finally, driven him to turn in his badge and look for something else to do.

  Skye threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know. I can’t tell you why I’d be anxious about a hike. Or a drive home from church. Or waking up in the morning. Shouldn’t I know what I’m anxious about?”

  He’d known. Unbidden, the images of abused wives he’d been too late to help, gang members brandishing knives, even the adrenaline rush of taking a corner too fast while in pursuit of a subject flashed through his mind like an old-school filmstrip. “I guess. What did the doctors say?”

  “All kinds of stuff about repressed memories or a litany of mental illnesses they could try to diagnose and treat. But I’m not crazy. And I don’t have hidden trauma in my past.”

  “To be fair, if it’s repressed, you wouldn’t know, right?”

  She shot him a sour look. “That’s what they said. And fine, that’s fair, but none of my siblings were able to help narrow down a time period when they remembered something happening that I might be repressing. Shouldn’t someone know about it?”

  “Probably. Sorry.” He frowned as he thought. There had to be something. Questions came and went at light speed. He discarded them all before he could ask them. Asking would only open the door for him to be involved. That was the opposite of what he needed. He hadn’t come to New Mexico to get dragged into more impossible situations. “I appreciate you letting me know. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Skye’s face fell and she shook her head. “I just figured you should know.”

  Morgan nodded. The silence in the office was officially awkward. There were probably six hundred other ways he could have handled that. But he’d fallen back to his default: reserved problem solving.

  “I—I guess I’ll be going. You’re probably busy.” Skye stood.

  She looked wounded and lost. Morgan couldn’t take it. He slipped off the desk and grabbed her hand. “Skye—”

  She froze.

  Morgan stared over her shoulder for three long heartbeats before shifting and holding her gaze. “It’s not that I don’t care.”

  She tilted her head to the side a fraction.

  “I’m just a really bad bet.”

  Skye inched forward and slipped her arms around his waist. Her body pressed against his and he closed his eyes as warmth seeped in. Her voice was low when she spoke, “I’m not exactly the poster girl for awesome right now.”

  The corners of his lips twitched up and his eyes flew open as her mouth pressed lightly to his. He gripped the fabric of her shirt at her waist and leaned in, the sweetness of her lips too much for him to resist.

  He should stop. Ease back.

  He tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and held her closer.

  “Well, well. Looks like I’m not the one pulling off a surprise.”

  The unfamiliar male voice had Morgan stepping back, his arms dropping to his sides as the back of his legs rammed against the desk.

  Skye spun and Morgan got a glimpse of her pink cheeks and swollen lips before she squealed and launched herself at the newcomer. He was a blonder, slightly taller and yet stockier male version of Skye.

  Morgan ignored the heat flaming up his neck and extended his hand. “You must be Royal.”

  “That’s me.” Royal shifted so Skye was tucked against him under his left arm and gripped Morgan’s extended hand. “Who might you be?’

  Skye rammed her elbow into Royal’s side. “Stop it.”

  Royal looked down at his twin. “What? I can’t ask someone his name?”

  She sighed and looked at Morgan. “I’m sorry about my brother.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Morgan Young. Pleasure to meet you.” It was sort of true. The Hewitt grandchildren were interesting—and maybe he didn’t resent their appearance quite as much these days. But the man had lousy timing.

  Royal held Morgan’s gaze before he started to laugh. He held up his hands, still laughing, and shook his head. “You know what? Maybe the two of you deserve each other. You’re both so serious.”

  “How’d you get here so soon? I thought you said your flight landed mid-morning.” Skye stepped out from under Royal’s arm and shifted closer to Morgan.

  Royal shrugged. The gesture was so similar to Skye’s that Morgan grinned.

  “I didn’t have anything holding me, so I hit the airport to see if there was something sooner. Had a few stops, but it shaved a little time off the arrival. That’s some drive up from the airport. Those curves, man, it’s like you could skid just a little and end up rolling down the side of the mesa.”

  “People do. Especially in winter. You want to be careful if you’re not used to it.” Morgan glanced over his shoulder at the work waiting for him on his desk. “Have you been to the main house to meet your grandparents?”

  “Nah. I texted Cyan and he said his fiancée said she saw Skye heading this way. I figured I’d surprise her first.” His eyes danced with mirth. “Maybe a little more than I was banking on.”

  “Come on. I’ll take you up to meet Betsy and Wayne.” Skye glanced over her shoulder at Morgan. “You’re coming to the main house for lunch?”

  He hadn’t planned to today. He’d figured it was a family thing. But now? He nodded.

  Her smile shot straight to his gut. “Great. I’ll see you then. Come on, Royal.”

  Morgan watched them leave and scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d been winning the fight against imagining what kissing Skye would be like. Now that he had, it was going to take all his strength to avoid dwelling on when he might get the chance to do it again.

  9

 
Royal fiddled with the tripod for his cell phone camera, making tweaks to the angle, checking the screen, tweaking again.

  “Why is this taking so long?” Skye shifted on the rock where she was perched and frowned at her brother. This wasn’t like him. He was a point, shoot, upload kind of guy. “What’s going on?”

  He frowned at her. “I care about production quality.”

  “Since when?”

  “Seriously?”

  Okay. Maybe that was a little unfair. “I know you care, but you’ve never been obsessive about it. And your videos are fine.”

  “Exactly. They’re fine. I need to step it up. Fine doesn’t cut it anymore.”

  Uh oh. “Who’d you lose?”

  Royal pinched the bridge of his nose and named the manufacturer of his favorite candy.

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. They weren’t a huge sponsor—I don’t have anyone who’s big—but they were consistent and didn’t try to control the narrative, you know? I just had to eat some candy during the filming, make sure the wrapper was visible, maybe drop a line about how much I liked it.” He shrugged. “That was easy enough as I was going to do that anyway.”

  “What happened?”

  “Some other kid decided to give the candy a taste because I raved about it. Now they’re eating it on camera and spouting off like a freaking informercial every time they get the chance and according to the email I got when they cancelled their sponsorship, the other dude’s quality is better so it didn’t make sense to do two small sponsorships when they could, instead, offer a larger one to someone who was more invested in their brand.”

  Skye winced. “I’m sorry.”

  Royal shrugged again. “It’s not a big deal.”

  But it very clearly was. Skye saw the little things in her twin’s demeanor that others—even her other siblings—would miss. The loss of the candy money had shaken him. She reached for a bright smile. “Well, let them get a load of this video, then. They’ll regret cutting you loose in no time.”

  He snorted. “I wish. But at least we can make the DNA kit people proud. So we’re going to show you filling out the online form, then both of us doing the kit for now. Then when we get the results, we’ll film opening those, too.”