by Deb Kastner
“Does he like sports?” Wyatt asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t say sports, exactly. He’s a little young for anything organized yet. Why?”
He felt his face flushing again. He hadn’t blushed this much since his senior prom, when he was a gangly youth with two left feet.
“No reason, really. I brought a couple of balls along with me, just in case.”
“Oh, now that’s a different thing entirely. Matty loves tossing a ball around. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“What do you say, little man?” he asked, scooping Matty into his arms and leading Carolina to his truck. “Do you want to play ball?”
It was only as they reached his truck bed that he realized he’d just set himself up for another round of humiliation and embarrassment. Saying he’d brought a couple of balls was a major understatement.
“A couple means two,” Matty announced proudly, holding up two fingers. “I’m two.”
Wyatt laughed. His kid was super smart, as well as being the cutest boy in the whole state of Texas.
Not that he was biased or anything.
Not knowing what Matty would like, he’d pretty much loaded up every kind of sports ball imaginable—a football, a baseball, a soccer ball and a basketball. He was going to add a couple of baseball gloves, but he only had mitts for adult-size hands. A toddler-size mitt was on his ever-growing list of items he wanted to buy for his son.
Carolina didn’t immediately comment when he showed her his stash.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. We usually play with a big plastic bouncy ball when we’re at home.”
A bouncy ball.
Another item for his list.
Carolina flashed him half a smile and shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about these games beyond being able to identify which ball goes with which sport.”
“That’s what Matty’s got a dad for.”
He didn’t really think about what he was saying until the words had already left his lips.
Their gazes met and locked. She was silently challenging him, but he didn’t know about what. Still, he kept his gaze firmly on hers. His words might not have been premeditated, but that didn’t make them any less true. He was sorry if he’d hurt her feelings, though. He wanted to keep things friendly between them.
“I think he’d probably enjoy kicking the soccer ball around with you,” she said at last.
Whatever antagonism had passed between them was now gone, and he let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
“There’s plenty of room on the green for three. What do you say? Do you want to play soccer with us?”
Shock registered in her face, but it was no more than what he was feeling. This was all so new. Untested waters.
Somehow, they had to work things out between the three of them and learn to work together, but kicking a ball around together at the park?
Why, that almost felt as if they were a family.
And although in a sense that was technically true, Wyatt didn’t even want to go down that road.
He had every intention of being the best father he could to Matty. And in so doing, he would establish some sort of a working relationship with Carolina, some way they could both be comfortable without it getting awkward. He just couldn’t bring himself to think about that right now.
Or maybe he just didn’t want to.
* * *
After church the next morning, with Matty napping in his car seat, Carolina decided to take a drive out to the countryside to try to clear her head.
Too much was happening, too fast, and she couldn’t begin to make sense of it all.
And to think she’d come back to Haven to find some peace and enjoy the slower pace of small-town living. So much for that daydream.
Encountering Wyatt again had changed everything. She’d been in love with him three years ago, and despite the depth of the chasm now between them, she had to acknowledge that she had once been ready to spend her life with him. But he hadn’t been ready, and so she’d left. She didn’t have any idea if he was ready now, but ready or not, he was a father.
Seeing him kicking the black-and-white ball around with Matty yesterday in the park had shaken her to the core. As far as she was concerned, it was a literal game changer—for all three of them.
Matty needed his father in his life.
Needed Wyatt.
And Wyatt needed him.
She supposed, deep down, she’d always known something was missing during their time in Colorado. As a single mother, she’d often overcompensated as much as she could, attempting to meet all Matty’s needs.
But she couldn’t be both mother and father to Matty, no matter how she tried. Only Wyatt could truly fill the role of Matty’s dad in his life.
Her fists closed tightly around the steering wheel and she huffed out a frustrated breath.
Oh, why did things have to be so complicated? Choices on top of choices, and she wasn’t sure any of her decisions, from the day she had walked away until the day she had returned, were right. How was she to judge?
In the best of all possible worlds, Matty wouldn’t be the product of a broken home—or rather, a home that never really existed in the first place. But he was.
There were no mom and dad committed to God and each other. No brothers and sisters to play with, no dogs or cats or a family home.
Wyatt was really stepping up as a father, but the cold, hard reality was that even though they would both be in Matty’s life—Carolina still wasn’t certain to what extent where Wyatt was concerned—they couldn’t be with each other. That ship had sailed long ago.
And the worst part was, she had no idea how she was supposed to guard Matty’s heart through all of this.
She was going to be in Haven for two months. That meant Wyatt would be a part of Matty’s life long enough for their son to get used to the idea of having a father. But what then?
Wyatt’s gran would eventually pass on and he would finally be free to follow his dreams, aspirations that would take him far away from Haven and his son.
Matty would be heartbroken. And Carolina wasn’t sure how to keep that from happening.
Already she was grieving for what could never be, the family she’d once thought she and Wyatt would eventually make together, however ridiculous the notion was in truth.
This—whatever this was—was a whole other thing entirely, and she didn’t know what to do with it.
In the quarter hour she’d been driving, she had passed only a handful of drivers on the little-used country road, with miles and miles of Texas prairie on every side of her. Beautiful meadows waving in the wind, with waist-high grass in places.
A beat-up white pickup truck appeared ahead of her, driving well under the speed limit. The driver looked to be an old man, puttering down the highway at the slackened pace of life in the country.
Carolina checked her mirrors and prepared to pass the old codger. Suddenly, the old man slammed on his brakes and the pickup came to an abrupt stop.
Heart in her throat, Carolina swerved to the left, missing the truck by bare inches as the back of her sedan fishtailed and then came to a screeching halt.
Shaken, she pulled her car off to the left shoulder and turned to see if Matty was okay. He was awake but not crying, his startled brown eyes staring straight back at her as he sucked on his fist. Thankfully, his five-point harness had kept him out of harm’s way.
“You okay, buddy?” Her voice sounded raspy even to her own ears.
In answer, Matty reached for his sippy cup and self-soothed with his apple juice.
Adrenaline was pulsing so rapidly through Carolina that she couldn’t determine whether or not she had any injuries. Her shou
lder was a little sore from where the seat belt had locked up, but other than that she thought she’d gotten through the accident without much physical incident.
Her next thought was about the old man who was driving the white pickup.
Why had he stopped so abruptly? Surely he had to have known she would likely rear-end him when he stomped on the brakes the way he had. Had he had some kind of physical breakdown? A heart attack, maybe? Or was he driving under the influence?
He was still sitting behind the wheel of his truck, looking straight down the road, a little dazed. But when Carolina got out of her car to cross the highway to see if he had suffered any injuries or if she needed to call an ambulance, he suddenly gunned his loud, knocking engine and swerved to the left, nearly hitting her as he drove off down the road as fast as the old truck could manage.
All righty, then.
Apparently the man wasn’t hurt, although Carolina thought it was very rude of him to drive off without making sure she and her son were okay—especially since it was his fault they’d almost skidded off the road and into a ditch. Some people just didn’t have a conscience.
As she returned her gaze to where his truck had been, she discovered the real reason the old man had slammed on his brakes.
A young buck with tiny nubs for antlers lay on its back on the side of the road, its legs twitching as it tried to right itself. Even from where she was standing, she could tell that the poor thing was in trouble.
She didn’t want Matty to see it, but she couldn’t possibly bring herself to leave the animal to suffer a slow death. She fished her cell phone out of her back pocket, intending to alert the local parks and wildlife station, which was in charge of roadkill in the area.
Except this young buck wasn’t roadkill.
Not yet.
Carolina had grown up in the country and knew that often the kindest—if most difficult—thing for a person to do was to put a suffering animal out of its misery, especially a wild animal like this deer. It would never survive out here if it couldn’t walk.
Something made her hesitate before making the call to the game department. Maybe it was the way the buck was valiantly, if vainly, struggling to find its feet. Maybe it was the pain and panic clouding its large brown eyes.
Whatever it was, Carolina checked her call log and dialed an entirely different number.
Wyatt’s.
He would know what to do, and if it was indeed necessary to put the buck down, he would have the means to give it a quick and painless death. She trusted him to do the right thing for the poor animal.
Relief flooded through her when Wyatt’s deep, warm voice answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Carolina. What’s up?”
She didn’t take time for pleasantries.
“Wyatt, I’m on County Road 8 about fifteen miles out of town. I was taking a Sunday drive when the pickup truck in front of me hit a young buck head-on. I don’t know if he wasn’t watching where he was going, or if the deer suddenly jumped into the road in front of him. I didn’t see it happen. He slammed on his brakes hard and I just barely missed rear-ending him.”
“What? Are you okay? Was Matty in the car? Should I call for an ambulance?”
Carolina glanced into the backseat, where Matty had fallen back into a peaceful slumber, and then addressed the issue she imagined was highest on Wyatt’s list.
“Matty is in the car with me, but he’s fine. I had to swerve and slam on my brakes pretty hard, but Matty is perfectly safe. His five-point car seat straps kept him from experiencing much of a jolt. I’m not sure he even noticed much of a difference from how I usually drive.” She laughed unsteadily at her own joke.
“And you?”
“A little shaken up,” she admitted. “But physically I’m fine.”
“What about the guy driving the truck? Is he okay?” Wyatt’s voice tightened.
“He’s gone.” Carolina couldn’t help the note of anger that laced her tone. “He took off without bothering to find out if Matty or I had been injured.”
Wyatt made an unintelligible growl from the back of his throat.
“Did you get his license plate number, at least?”
She shook her head, then realized Wyatt couldn’t see her movement. “No. But there was really no reason for me to take it. It wasn’t exactly an accident. Just a close call.”
“Too close. And you’re sure you and Matty are all right? No injuries?” he asked again.
“I’m sure. That’s not why I’m calling. It’s about the buck.”
“Do you want me to call the Department of Parks and Wildlife for you?”
“If you think it’s best. That’s what I was about to do, but then I hesitated and called you instead. I feel kind of silly now. It’s just that the buck—he’s still moving. I thought maybe...”
Her voice trailed off and then picked up again when she realized how ridiculous she sounded. She was just overemotional from the near accident.
“No. I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m being stupid. I’ll call the game warden myself.”
“You’re not a bother, Carolina. Give me fifteen minutes to find you. And hold off on calling Parks and Wildlife. Maybe there is something I can do.”
“You’ll come?”
“Of course. I don’t know if I can help the buck, but I can at least have a look at him.”
“Thank you.” She gripped the phone against her chest. Her heart swelled with gratitude. Wyatt had always been that man—the guy who dropped everything to come running when he was needed.
Whether or not he could do anything for the deer, he was making the effort.
She’d called—and he’d answered.
Chapter Five
Wyatt felt sorry for Carolina. Seeing an animal in distress was never a pleasant experience, but to see a deer hit by a truck was especially traumatic. Carolina had a good head on her shoulders and had seen many things as a nurse, but he knew she had a soft spot for animals.
He wished he could help, but he doubted even a man of his expertise could save a wild buck that had been hit by a truck. Some things were beyond him.
That was life. He’d learned not to get too attached to anyone or anything, animals and people alike. At the end of the day, they all went away, leaving a gaping hole where their presence used to be.
His mom and dad hadn’t often been there for him as a child, since they were ambassadors in a third-world country and had deemed it not safe for their son. He’d begged and begged to be able to come with them, but they’d refused.
He remembered as a child he would pray every night asking God for his parents’ safe return from foreign soil. And what had that gotten him?
They’d been killed. And despite the distance, and not really knowing them very well, Wyatt had felt the void left in his heart.
And he’d never again asked God for anything.
He’d put down more farm animals and domestic pets than he could count, sharing in the family’s grief at the loss of a beloved dog or cat but not letting it touch his own heart.
Letting go of people was even harder. As much as he wished it were otherwise, his gran wouldn’t be around for much longer. He didn’t know what he was going to do without her. She had been everything to him growing up.
Then there were the kids to whom he taught vetting skills at the boys ranch. Despite his effort to stay rational and detached in his volunteer efforts, he couldn’t help but become involved, especially with Johnny Drake, the boy he was personally mentoring.
But once again, Wyatt was about to say goodbye. Johnny was seventeen and would be aging out of the program soon, and then he’d be gone, as well.
Worst of all, Wyatt had no guarantee Carolina would decide to stay in Haven after the party for the seventieth anniversary of the
ranch in March.
What if she left and took Matty away?
It would be ridiculously easy for her to throw salt on that old wound and at the same time create a brand-new one by denying him his son.
He knew better than to care.
And yet he did.
How could he not? Matty was his son, his flesh and blood. This was one goodbye he was going to fight against.
He spotted Carolina’s sedan parked on the opposite shoulder of the road, her car turned the wrong direction from the traffic. Skid marks crossed the road in a fishtail pattern and told the story all on their own.
It could easily have been a lot worse than it had been. The sedan had stopped inches from a two-foot ditch. Wyatt was thankful Carolina and Matty were safe.
He parked his truck a short distance from the buck and walked the rest of the way down the road so as not to frighten the animal further.
Carolina was leaning against the hood of her car, her arms crossed and her cell phone still in her hand. Her glassy eyes were distant as she silently stared at the young buck on the other side of the road, a frown on her lips.
Wyatt’s heart went out to her.
Though she must have heard his truck pull up, she didn’t appear to realize he was there. He wondered if her physical injuries were worse than she’d first imagined. Or she could be in shock.
He immediately took his denim jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her gaze shifted to him and her eyes widened.
“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know, Carolina. You don’t look so hot right now. Do you want to sit down?”
She chuckled drily. “No. Don’t worry about me. What do you think about the buck?”
She nodded toward the yearling, which was still on its side, panting heavily. It was no longer struggling to regain its feet and flee.
“Why don’t you sit down so you don’t fall down and then let me see if I can get close to it.”
“Thank you,” she murmured in a scratchy tone.
Wyatt approached the deer slowly, speaking in a low, even tone. “No worries, buddy. I’m a vet. I’m just here to take a look at you, okay?”