Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“They’re letting everyone in, huh?” She eases into the room, sparing my arm a squeeze on her way past before setting the flowers on a table. She peers down at the babies. “Look how tiny they are!” Her smile is genuine, her face awestruck. “Have you named them yet?”
“Yes.” Sarah’s gaze is loving as she regards her twin daughters. “Eden and Lily.”
“They are carbon copies of each other.”
“And here I was, getting used to telling Carson and Brooks apart.” I sigh.
“Maybe you can give them a shovel to play with.” Sarah shoots me a stern look, as if the scar between Carson’s eyes is my fault.
“Don’t worry, we’ll put a little spot of nail polish on one of their toes. Remember, that’s how we could tell the boys apart when they were born.” My mom smiles down adoringly at them. “Aren’t they so cute?”
“Not according to Egan.” Jon chuckles. “He isn’t handling the move from baby of the family to big brother well. He wants us to send them back to wherever they came from.”
Emery laughs, and it’s such a lighthearted sound. It’s nice to hear given all the heaviness in recent days.
“Do you want to hold one?” Sarah asks Emery. “They’re going to wake up to feed any minute, anyway.”
Emery’s eyes light up. “Yes. Give me a sec.” She rushes off to the little bathroom in the private room to wash her hands.
I’m tempted to follow her in, corner her, and ask her what’s going on with Holly’s case. I’ll never forget the look on Emery’s face when she realized that the Bale House bar owner was the man behind Holly’s disappearance and death. I thought she was going to collapse from shock at first, but then she kissed me and literally ran to those detectives, and I haven’t seen her since.
Sarah grins at me. “I think someone’s getting baby fever.”
“Don’t start …” I shake my head.
Emery reappears, moving swiftly to collect the sleeping baby on the left.
“That’s Eden,” Sarah notes.
“I remember when Isla was this little.” Emery cradles the tiny body. “It’s funny, when you’re in the thick of it, you want those days to hurry up. But now I wish I could have them back, even for just a little while.”
I watch Emery’s body gently sway left to right as she stares longingly at the bundle, and I’m bowled over by a conflicting swell of anger, regret, hope, and determination. I wish I could hit rewind and live all those moments with her for the first time, not as a bystander through letters while rotting in a prison cell. But at least I had that much, thanks to my mother’s unwavering determination to keep me connected.
And as lucky as I feel that Emery’s given me a second chance, at possibly great cost to her, there are moments like right now, when the magnitude of how much I’ve lost hits me and I’m overwhelmed by sadness.
While everyone else is focused on Emery, I catch Sarah staring at me.
“Logan, you should hold her,” she says softly.
Emery’s head snaps up. “What? You haven’t held one of them yet?”
“It’s fine,” I mutter.
“No, it’s not. You’re not missing this.” Emery glides around the bed toward me. “Come on.”
I comply and she carefully transfers the sleeping baby into my arms.
Eden flinches and her eyes open a crack, but then she settles just as quickly.
“See?” Emery’s green eyes shine with emotion as she peers up at me. “You’re a natural.”
Sarah catches my attention by mouthing “baby fever.”
“They’re cute when they sleep, aren’t they?” Jon murmurs, watching us with a secretive smile. “That’s how they get ya.”
“His luck is gonna run out one of these days, I swear.” My father lifts his hat from his head to brush the sweat off his brow before replacing it, our eyes on Mak in the pasture. The ranch hand moves in with ease, the tagger in his right hand, ready to chip the newborn calf. The cow bison watches on the other side, but other than a tail swish and a paw against the dirt, she doesn’t react.
“I don’t think it’s luck. That guy is a bison whisperer.” And possibly an adrenaline junkie.
“Maybe you’re right.” Dad pauses. “His ancestors are from the Siksika tribe, out in Alberta.”
“Yeah, Mom wrote me an entire letter about it.” She detailed the First Nation’s entire history with the plains bison and how they revered the animal.
The sound of approaching hooves from the east has both of us turning.
My heartbeat skitters with excitement as I spot Emery riding in on Flapjack at an easy canter. She’s home from work and out of uniform, her lengthy hair flowing freely. She’s been scarce around here as they work overtime to build the case against the Bale House owner.
“Something tells me she’s not coming to see me. I hope it’s good news.” With a salute her way, my dad ambles over to the UTV and continues on his lap to check the fence line.