Page 97 of Keeping Kaitlyn

“I can always show her my nipple rings,” he says, still trying to distract me before slamming my door closed. “That should do the trick.”

Watching Mook, nose to ground, on his way to lift his leg on a nearby tree, I lean into Went. “Thank you.” Looking up at him, I smile. “For coming. I know last night I said?—”

“This is where I want to be, Sunshine,” he says, reaching up to brush my hair off my forehead so he can kiss it.

Giving him a grateful smile, I slip my hand into his before I turn to look at the woman wringing her hands on the front porch steps. “Hi, Mom.”

“Kaity…” She gives me a smile before she practically tumbles down the steps in her hurry to get to me. Letting go of Went’s hand, I meet her halfway. Let her throw her arms around me. Hold me tight while she sobs against my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper in her ear while I fight back tears for the second time in one day. “I’m so?—”

“Hush now.” Pulling away, my mother smiles up at me through her tears. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She’s wrong. I do. I have plenty to be sorry for. Even though I never regretted leaving, not even when I was bunking down in a drafty tack room and shoveling shit for fifty dollars a day on a ranch in Wyoming, I never even thought of coming back here. But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret the hurt I caused. “Mom?—”

“I said hush, Kaity.” Still smiling, my mom reaches up to pat my cheek. “We’ll talk later. Right now, I want a proper introduction to your husband.”

Husband.

Tossing a guilty look at Went over my shoulder, I catch sight of him standing a few feet behind me, Mook sitting at his feet, stumpy tail swishing through the dirt. Arm still anchored around her waist, I incline my head. “Mom, this is Went,” I say, lifting a hand in his direction. “Went, this is my mom, Hillary.”

Moving into the space between us, Went offers her his hand and one of hisknock you flatsmiles. “It’s nice to finally meet you properly, Mrs. Barrett.”

When his hand practically swallows hers, my mother’s eyes go wide again as they travel up the length of his torso “It’s nice to finally meet you too, Went,” she says, taking in his tattooed arms and neck. “I’d forgotten how big and…colorfulyou are.”

Still smiling, Went lets go of her hand. “Is my brother around?” he asks before tossing look over his shoulder at the barn, like he’s looking for him. “I’d like to?—”

“Fired him.” Looking up, I see a silhouette in the open front doorway, watching us from behind the screen door. Pushing through it, my father steps onto the porch, letting it bang closed behind him. “About six years back,” he says. “Got no room for disloyalty on my ranch.”

“Tom,” my mother admonishes him softly while Went goes stiff beside me and Mook presses his head into the side of my knee, all of us looking up at the man glaring down at me. If no one had told me he was sick before coming home, I’d have known anyway, the moment I saw him. Sallow skin stretched over his gaunt face. Wasted, hallow frame, swaying like it’s made of straw, ready to blow away at the slightest breeze. Like I knew he was sick, I take one look at him and know that no matter the time and illness stretched between us, my father still hates me. Blames me for every loss and heartache he’s ever had to endure. He looks at me like not a day has passed between now and the last time he saw me. Like we’re unwelcome. Like he didn’t ask me to come home.

Reaching over, I wrap a hand around Went’s forearm. I haven’t got a chance in hell of stopping him if he decides to stop playing nice but I tighten my grip anyway. “Hello, dad,” I say, thankful that my voice isn’t shaking because I’m right backwhere I started, feeling small and barely tolerated. Unwanted and unloved.

He doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t acknowledge me beyond staring at me, throat working like he’s got a mouthful of something bad. Before I can try again, I hear another truck coming up the road. Turning away from my father’s baleful glare, I spot a truck I don’t recognize, speeding toward us, kicking up dust in a cloud, thick enough to choke you. Looking back at my mom, I watch the corners of her mouth pull down in a frown, the change in expression aging her considerably in the span of a second.

“Mom…” Something cold crawls across the back of my neck. “Who is that?”

“That’s mydaughter—” my father says, answering my question before she has a chance. “and her husband.”

FIFTY-FIVE

WENTWORTH

I only metKait’s sister once, but I know the woman who climbs out of the truck’s passenger seat when it comes to a stop isn’t her. She looks like her—honey blonde hair and wide blue eyes that I can see both she and Kait got from their father—but the woman who rounds the front of the truck to stand quietly at the front of it, isn’t her.

The Abbey I remember was bright and vivacious. Loud and colorful. Not afraid to speak her mind. To dig in and fight for what she wanted. This woman is dull. There’s no shine to her. No spark. It’s as if the life has been sapped out of her and all that’s left is an empty shell.

When the driver’s side door opens and I see who gets out, I understand why.

“Hey Kaitydid,” Brock says, his gaze flickering over me before it settles on Kait with a wide, friendly grin. “Long time no see.”

Seeing him, understanding what it means, Kait tightens her grip on my arm for just a moment before she lets go, her feet lifting like she’s getting ready to charge and tackle him in thedirt. Before she can, I wrap an arm around her waist, anchoring her firmly to my side.

“Shhh…” I barely breathe it, full attention trained on the man in front of me. “Easy, Sunshine.”

Brock steps forward to offer me his hand. “So, you’re him,” he says, giving me that wide, friendly grin that barely covers up his nasty smirk. “The guy who stole my Kaity, right out from under me.”

I hear it, even if no one else does—the slight emphasis he put on the wordsunder me.

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