He stared at her, filtering through her words. She loved him. She might not have realized she’d said it, but he sure as hell did. She loved him, but it wasn’t enough. “So where does that leave us?”
She drew in a deep breath, bracing herself. “Nothing’s changed, Brody. This is all I can give you. If you still want it.”
He smiled, burying the hurt deep down inside him. “When it comes to you, I’ll take whatever I can get, India Boone.” He kissed her gently, ignoring the pain as she slipped her arms around him and held him close.
Chapter Sixteen
India’s phone started ringing a little after five in the morning.
“Is that you or me?” Brody asked, reaching over her to turn on the bedside lamp.
“Me.” She took the phone he offered, instantly recognizing Scarlett’s number. “Scarlett?”
“Cal’s not feeling well,” Scarlett said. “His throat’s hurting him and he wants to come home.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll walk up and get him.”
“No, Dad’s got him—”
“Dad?” She bolted from the bed. “Are they... Is he coming out here? To my cabin?”
“Cal was crying.” Scarlett broke off. “Oh my God, is Brody there? I’ll try to stop him. Dammit, I’m so sorry, India. I’ll try to stall him a bit.”
“My dad’s coming,” she said, tossing the phone onto the bed and throwing clothing at Brody. “Now.”
“Is Cal okay?” Brody asked, tugging on his jeans.
“Sore throat,” she said, tugging on her plain white cotton nightgown. “Why aren’t you moving faster?”
“That’s pretty.” He nodded at her nightgown. “Girls had it. Get him on antibiotics. He’ll feel better in a couple of days—”
“Brody,” she interrupted, pushing him toward the door. “You can’t be here. My dad... Cal... You have to go. Now.”
To her surprise, he smiled. “I’m going, India.” He shook his head. “If Cal’s up for it, we’ll go ahead with our next riding lesson at Click’s Sunday.”
She opened the door, pushing his broad back with both hands. “I’ll tell him. Go.”
He climbed into his truck wearing his boots and jeans, tossed his shirt in the passenger seat and started the engine.
India held her breath, watching as his taillights disappeared—as Cal and her father appeared on the trail leading to her front door. Tanner loped ahead, pressing his head against her thigh before trotting back to Cal.
“Mom,” Cal said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m sick.”
She stooped, pressing a hand to his forehead.
“He’s got a fever, but your ma already gave him some medicine,” her father said, an undeniable edge to his voice.
“The pink stuff that tastes like bubble gum,” Cal said, letting her pick him up. Which told her just how bad he must feel.
“I appreciate that, Dad.” She smiled at him. “I would have walked up to get him.”
“Already up,” her father said, following her inside and sitting on her lumpy couch.
India lingered, thankful she and Brody had confined their escapades to her room. Still, she scanned the room, nervous he’d find something. “Want something to drink?” she asked. “I can make you some coffee after I put Cal to bed.”
“Take your time,” he said, his voice low and steady.
He was clipped and measured—like he was fighting for control. It made her anxious. But her father could wait until Cal was settled. “Okay,” she said, carrying Cal into his room. “Want some water?” she asked her son.
He nodded. “And Tanner,” he said, patting his bed. “Come on, boy.”
Tanner jumped up and rested his massive head on the pillow beside Cal.
“He can’t catch it, can he?” Cal asked, running his hand along the dog’s side.
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s safe,” she said, turning off the overhead and clicking on his night-light. “I’ll be right back with your water.”
Her father watched her get Cal a drink. “Want something?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Take your time.”
She hurried back into Cal’s room. “Need anything else?” Balancing on the edge of the bed was no easy feat. Between Cal and Tanner, there wasn’t much room for her. She smoothed the hair from her son’s forehead with her other hand. “Sorry you feel bad.”
He shook his head, his eyes already closed. “I wanted to come home.”
“Well, you are,” she assured him, pressing a kiss against his overheated skin. “Sleep tight, baby. I’m right next door if you need anything. We’ll go to the doctor first thing.”
“’Kay, Mom, I love you.” He rolled over, threw an arm over Tanner and yawned.
India stayed where she was, watching his breathing steady and slow in sleep. Tanner’s soft snore filled the still room. She smiled, patted Tanner on the side and left, leaving the door partially cracked.
“You okay, Dad?” she asked, wanting to get this over with.
He nodded. “I’d planned on coming over here to make peace. You know, tell you how damn proud I am of you for working so hard and doing such a good job with Cal. And you are—he’s a good boy.”
She was dreaming. Surely. “Thank you,” she managed, even though it sounded more like a question.
“But then I see something that tells me my feelings still don’t matter to you.” He pushed off the couch. “Brody Wallace?” He cleared his throat. “What did I do to make you hate me, India?”
“I don’t hate you.” She was in shock. “Dad, I’ve never hated you.”
“You certainly don’t like me. That much is clear. You have that man here, on my property—property his father accuses me of stealing.” He shook his head. “It seems to me your choice in men hasn’t improved with time. And, like last time, you’re picking the person I like the least.”
She couldn’t decide which was greater—her anger or her incredulity. Did he really believe she’d picked Brody just to get to him? Or that Brody and JT could be lumped into the same category? Yes, they were both men. But, as far as India could tell, that was the only thing they had in common. JT was an embarrassment to mankind. Brody a shining example of what a man should be.
“Was it because I wouldn’t come get you when your marriage started to fall apart?” her father asked, sincerely puzzled. “You still hold that against me?”
“You’re asking?” she asked.
“I thought I just did.”
She drew in a steadying breath. If he was asking, she would answer him. Even if it was hard for both of them to hear. “Hold it against you? No, Dad. Does it still hurt? Yes. I didn’t want to call you. I knew how you felt about JT, I knew you hadn’t forgiven me for marrying him. But...I was scared and I needed help. So I called, hoping you’d help me—angry or not.” His dismissive refusal had been salt in the wound, but she’d refused to beg.
“Scared?” he asked, frowning. “I’ve never done a thing to make you afraid of me, India.”
“Not you, Dad.” She avoided his gaze then. “JT. I was afraid of JT. You were right. He was a bad man. But you made me figure it out on my own, helped me grow stronger—for me and Cal. I needed that.”
The silence grew heavy and thick, pressing in on her until she had no choice but to look at him. There were tears in his eyes. Her big, loud, opinionated father was crying for the first time in her life. “What are you saying?” The question was a whisper, raw and broken and anguished.
“Nothing that matters now,” she mumbled.
But her father continued to stare at her until she was crying, too.
“I didn’t know, India. How could I have known?” he asked.
She shook her head, wiping the tears from her face. “How could I tell you? I was ashamed by what he did to me. I could
n’t listen to how, somehow, it was my fault. It was hard enough without hearing that from you.”
“Oh, India.” He hugged her awkwardly. “No, no, baby girl. No.” He sniffed, his arms shaking around her. “I called you two days later, so mad at the things I’d said. But your phone was disconnected. I thought you were shutting us out—”
“No, Dad, Cal and I were...getting away.”
“That bastard never deserved you. No man should lay a hand on you. Not ever, you hear me? It’s not your fault. No, ma’am.” His voice broke. “I should have... I should have... Your mother says I never shut the hell up and listen. She’s right. Dammit all, she’s right. India, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She held on to her father then, needing his arms around her.
“You’ve never embarrassed or shamed me, India. Never. I was hurt and acted like a damn fool. You were so determined to leave home, so determined to do it on your own. You didn’t want or need me, and I didn’t know how to stand by and do nothing.” He shook his head. “I let my temper get a hold of me. But I swear to you, it won’t happen again. I’m old, I’m loud and I’m damn opinionated. But you’re my baby girl, and I will always love you. Even when I’m being an ass. I’m sorry you ever doubted that.”
She stared up at her father through her tears, the cracks in her heart shrinking.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’m too beat to talk more. But, I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. I’m sorry for being so damn pigheaded and selfish, sometimes.” He stepped back, wiping a hand across his face. “But we will talk about the Wallace boy, you hear me?”
She nodded.
“Good,” he said, heading toward the door. “Now, you get some sleep while Cal’s resting and I’ll see you later on.”
She nodded again, words sticking in her throat and making it hard to breathe.
“I love you India. I do.” He smiled. “Like any father, I only want the best for you. And your boy.”
* * *
DAMMIT ALL, HE’D made eye contact with Woodrow Boone—eye contact. And he didn’t know what to do about it. If he turned around and went back, he’d be doing what India didn’t want—putting Cal in the middle. But driving away, leaving her to deal with her father’s fallout alone, didn’t sit well with him.
He pulled off the dirt road, waited ten minutes, then looped around to park in front of her little cabin. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but finding her sobbing, alone, on her old lumpy couch wasn’t it. His heart broke for her. “What can I do?” he asked, sitting at her side and pulling her in his arms.
“This,” she said, burying her face against his throat.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked. “I’ll listen.”
But she was crying too hard to manage a word. He held her, mumbling nonsense and running his hand down her back until she relaxed against him. When her tears dried up, the words started. He didn’t want to hear any of it, but it all came out. Her father’s desertion and JT’s abuse. That she’d faced it all alone, bouncing between friends from couch to couch, and that she’d spent nights in her truck along the way. Her pride had kept her from returning to Fort Kyle until she’d had no choice.
“He apologized,” she finished, her voice rough. “Now, when I’d come to terms with the fact that he never would. Now, when I’d accepted I was alone.”
“You were never alone,” he ground out. “I would have come running.”
“I did think about it.” Her voice was soft and thick. “But so much time had passed and we’d gone our separate ways without Fort Kyle to keep us together. But I should have known you’ll always be there for me, Brody, even when I try to push you away.”
He closed his eyes, swallowing back all the things he wanted to say to her. Then he gave up. “I know why you push me away.”
“You do?” Her blue-green eyes locked with his.
“You think letting someone in makes you weaker.” He kissed her forehead. “But I’ve got news for you, India Boone. Whether you let me or not, I already love you. I’ve loved you since before I can remember, and I always will.”
The flare of panic in her gaze gave way to tenderness. No, dammit, there was love there—he saw it, knew it and welcomed it with open arms. She could fight all she wanted, her heart had already decided. She loved him. And knowing that had him smiling like a damn fool.
Her hand pressed against his cheek.
He sighed, pressed a kiss against her palm and stared out the small window. Pink and yellow rays peaked over the horizon, signaling the arrival of dawn. He was running out of time—and there was something he needed to do before he could go home to his girls. “I need to get home before the girls realize I’m gone.”
She blinked. “Now?”
“Want me to stay?” he asked.
“No. Yes.” She slid from his lap and stood, looking at him.
“You don’t have to know anything. Not yet. For now, put your worries aside and rest.” He squeezed her hands, letting her fingers slide from his, as he made his way to her door. He paused then, smiling at her. “Everything is going to be okay, you know that?”
She stiffened, nodding. “Yes.”
That was what she did, acted tough—to prove she didn’t need anyone. Even when she did.
“Good.” He winked and headed outside. It was a good morning, crisp and full of promise. He drove down the dirt road to the main house, parked and cursed himself for a damn fool. If he had to beg Woodrow Boone, he would. Since he didn’t have time to shower and clean up, he shook the wrinkles from his shirt, tucked himself in and adjusted his belt. There wasn’t much he could do about the stubble on his jaw, but he was otherwise presentable.
What he had to say to Woodrow Boone wouldn’t take long, but he didn’t want to wait.
The main lodge was waking up, servers setting the table with fresh linens and the slight kitchen noises that promised a big breakfast buffet for the dude ranch’s guests.
“Brody Wallace?” Mrs. Boone saw him first. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see your husband, Mrs. Boone. I know it’s early, but I was hoping he’d be up.” Somehow, he doubted Woodrow had come back from India’s place and gone to bed. Likely he was all fired up and agitated over what she’d told him.
She glanced around, growing nervous. “May I ask why you’re here? Now? Before he’s had his coffee.” Her smile grew tight as her husband walked into the room, Scarlett close behind.
“Good morning,” he said. “Scarlett.”
“Hi, Brody,” she stammered, glancing from her father to him and back again. “You’re here bright and early.”
Woodrow Boone shook his head. “Why?”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve come to ask permission to marry your daughter.” He held up a hand. “Before you tell me all the reasons why I can’t marry her, I’d like to share the reasons I should.”
“Why the hell would I listen to a thing you have to say?” Woodrow growled.
“Woodrow,” his wife gushed. “Calm down. He’s being nothing but polite.”
“Daddy, hear him out, please,” Scarlett said.
“And, for crying out loud, do not cause a scene in front of the guests,” his wife pleaded.
Not that anyone was suggesting they move to a less crowded room to carry on the conversation. Which meant Mrs. Boone and Scarlett might just be on his side. He sure as hell hoped so. He had to give it to Woodrow. The man’s jaw muscle was clenched tight, his nostrils flared, but he nodded.
“I love her. I’ve loved her since she brought an arrowhead to show-and-tell in Mrs. Carmichael’s kindergarten class. She used to love those things, like Cal. And I love that boy. I’ll never treat her, her son or your family with anything but respect. I believe in family, Mr. and Mrs. Boone. And, if India and Cal agree to be
my family, that would mean we’re all family.” He cleared his throat. “Also, I’ll do whatever I can to make them both happy, here in Fort Kyle.”
That made Woodrow pause. He saw it. He wanted India to stay almost as much as he did. “And if she wants to go?” Woodrow Boone forced the words out.
“If she wants to go, we’ll go. Together.” He meant it. “But I think you fixed most of the reasons she had for leaving, Mr. Boone.”
“Why? Woodrow, what did you do? What happened?” Mrs. Boone asked, glancing back and forth between them.
Brody didn’t say a word. He wasn’t about to deprive the man of his moment. And, he could tell, Scarlett and Mrs. Boone were going to be impressed. “I apologized to our girl. Something I should have done years ago.” Woodrow Boone was studying him. “Told her she deserved only the best.”
“Oh, Woodrow,” his wife said, hugging her husband. “Thank you.”
Woodrow’s arm settled around his wife’s shoulder, but his gaze stayed pinned on Brody. “You know I don’t approve of you.”
“I do.” Brody nodded. “And I know I don’t deserve her.”
“But you think marrying you will keep her here? And happy?” Woodrow Boone asked. “You have an awfully high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”
“No, sir,” he said. “But, I give you my word, no man will work as hard as I will, every day, to make sure she and Cal know I love them.” He swallowed. “I just need your blessing.”
“She wants to marry you?” he asked.
“She loves me, I know that. But I haven’t asked her,” Brody confessed. “I wouldn’t do that until I’d spoken with you.”
“What about your father?” Mr. Boone asked.
“He likes her. He likes Cal. So does my mother.” He saw no point in beating around the bush. “It’s hard not to.”
Mrs. Boone looked on the verge of tears. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
“I do,” he said.
“And if I say no?” Woodrow asked, ignoring his wife’s gasp and Scarlett’s whispered, “Daddy.”
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