Page 21 of Home Hearts Hooves

FARM ANIMALS AND FREAKOUTS

IthoughtIwasa good guy. A man that prided himself on being honest and kind, and fair, which is why I’m so disappointed in myself, because the second I wake up and the reality of what happened last night sinks in, I freak out and run away. It’s not like we could have had the talk with the guys there, anyway. Really, I should have thought about what it was I wanted before I kissed him. All I know is that with Dean I felt safe. I actually felt like everything was going to be okay and I didn’t want that feeling to end. But if that little girl who ripped my hair out is my child, my life won’t just be about me anymore and what I want. I need to sort out this mess before I even think about what last night was. So I keep running.

I run up the driveway, past the mess of fallen branches, scattered hay, and mud, to my van.

“You out of here?” Perry calls from Sally-May’s garden where he’s hammering back in a few fence panels.

“Yeah, I need to make sure the clinic is okay.”

It’s not a lie; I do have to check on the clinic and the animals we have in.

On the drive back, my mind keeps replaying the conversation with the girl in my clinic. She thinks there’s a chance I could be her father, but Isabel would have told me if she were pregnant, wouldn’t she? Even if she found out after I left, she would tell me. I would have come back. I would have stayed. She would know I would have done the right thing.

I turn down Main Street and spot Isabel with her father in front of the general store, and a fire rises inside my gut. I pull over and climb out before I even register what I’m doing.

“Is it true?” I ask as I storm toward her. Her father, Frank, a tall and broad man who was never a huge fan of mine, steps in between us.

“You better be reigning that temper in, son,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. I never spent much time around Isabel’s father growing up. He was always out farming when I was at her house, and I was smart to leave before he got home. On the few occasions we had interacted, he was pleasant, but there was always that bitterness to his words like he didn’t approve of Isabel and me. Still, even then, he was nothing like this gruff man in front of me right now.

“Isabel, you have to tell me the truth. Is that kid…? Am I…?” I ask, my words tripping over my tongue.

“Preston, what are you talking ab…” Realization must set in because she freezes, her eyes grow wider as tears begin to well. “I’m so sorry, Pres,” she says, using the old nickname she had for me when we were together.

“No,” I interject. She’s cupping her hands over her mouth like she can somehow keep the words, the truth inside. “You wouldn’t keep something this big from me. You wouldn’t do that, right, Izz?”

She bursts into tears. “I’m sorry, Pres. I was going to tell you but…it’s just…”

“What? It was so hard to pick up a phone and call me to tell me I had a daughter, for ten years, it was too hard?”

She grasps her father’s arm and clings to him like a frightened child, and in that moment, I realize, she’s terrified of me.

My stomach churns, and my gaze moves past her to my reflection in the shop’s front window. My hair’s a mess from the night in the barn, but the rage in my heart is also right there on my face, and I don’t like what I see. A switch flicks, and I suck in a shuddered breath.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Look, son—” her father begins.

“I’m not your son,” I snap back, and he raises one brow.

“Maybe not, but this here is my daughter, and I won’t be having her personal life hashed out in the middle of Main Street.”

“We have to talk about this sometime. It’s been ten years. Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough?” I ask, trying really fucking hard to keep my voice low because more than a few people are now listening in. What did I expect? It’s a small town and small towns just love a good gossip story.

“You waited this long, and you’re right, you deserve the truth, but not here. You need to talk about this properly. Come by the house tonight but be leaving that attitude at home.”

Tears streak Isabel’s face, and while I should care that she’s upset, my heart only has room for the pain of the thought that this is real, she had my child all those years ago and kept it from me. Who the fuck does a thing like that?

“Fine,” I concede, turning on my heel and heading for the clinic.

I close the door to the back area and slump against it, sliding to the floor and clutching my knees to my chest.

Isabel had my child and chose to keep that from me for ten years. I have a daughter. Holy shit, I have a daughter. My mind jumps from joy to anger and back a billion times as I try to make sense of it all.

It’s not that I didn’t want to be a dad one day. I did. I thought I would be. When I met the right person, I figured we’d adopt or do the donor surrogate thing. I don’t know anything about children, human ones, anyway. I can pull a calf simply fine, but I have next to no experience with real human children. What if this kid is like the murder twins? How do I manage that? How does anyone manage that?

The puppies finally register my presence and whine at the edge of their enclosure.

“I know, I know,” I say, pushing myself up and grabbing the bag of kibble from the cupboard. “I’m late for breakfast, but to be fair, it’s been a really weird twelve hours. I helped deliver a calf, fell asleep in Dean’s arms, then ran into my ex who just told me that she had my child ten years ago and kept it from me,” I say as if they have any clue about what I am talking about. I fill up their bowls, feed the parrot and bunnies, too, and then head upstairs to check on Fluffy. Fuck. I’m a dad.

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