Page 58 of Red Hot Rancher

“Thanks, Justin. I really mean it.”

“Hey, it keeps me busy. I need that these days.”

Yes. Her niece or nephew. Justin was uncomfortably confident that the baby was his. According to Priya, Maisy hadn’t been seeing anyone and wasn’t the type to sleep with a guy she wasn’t in a relationship with—especially with Justin living in Moore. The insinuation was there that Maisy’s obsession with him had made her want to be available if he ever even thought about calling her up again. And the rest was history.

“Still, you shouldn’t have to deal with my belongings too.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about Caleb. She only had to stop herself every five seconds.

Part of her was so damn angry with him. She wanted him to be aching and suffering as much as she was. But the other part of her wanted to know he was doing well.

“You’re my twin.” He gave a derisive laugh. “Caleb is my best friend, and you’re both doing frustratingly well at keeping me out of the middle.”

Her last request before her conversation with Caleb had been terminated was for him not to mention Mom and Dad’s situation to her brothers. They were already paying their own way in life. Brigit wanted to do something on her own. For once.

Too bad it had cost her the love of her life.

“It’s my mess,” she said. “No one’s cleaning it up but me.”

She got off the phone with him but didn’t go out to the main room. It was almost suppertime. She’d thrown a roast in the Crock-Pot—another way she was trying to contribute while she lived here. They could eat at any time, but then she’d witness “the looks.” The tight glances between them and thinned lips because she wasn’t laughing hard enough, or because she was listless, or because she really didn’t look forward to spending the next who knew how many years under fluorescent lights, getting two fifteens and a thirty-minute break.

Though there was nowhere else to rush off to. She only needed to return to Moore to visit her family. There was no sexy rancher-slash-fireman waiting for her. Not anymore. Before, Caleb had underscored her reason for not returning. If it had been too hard to see him before, it would be heartbreaking now. Moore was too small, her family too tight, to not run across him. And with the way she’d been randomly breaking down into sobs, she wouldn’t handle a run-in with him well.

She missed him.

She was so angry with him.

But…he was right. He’d waited all those years. Sure he’d dated, but he’d protected his heart and harbored enough hope to keep everyone else at a distance. But her? She’d run from one long-term relationship to another, convincing herself it was what she wanted.

A life with Caleb was what she wanted.

It was a fine mess she’d gotten herself into. Yet it wasn’t anything less than she deserved. Her parents had given so much for all their kids, but Brigit had been the most selfish. And Caleb was free to live the life he deserved.

Tears welled, but she sniffled and blinked them back. It was time for supper. She wasn’t going to be very useful at work if she cried all night.

Trudging out to the kitchen, she avoided eye contact with her parents. Mom had just walked in and Dad was at the table, sorting through mail. Brigit started pulling out dishes. Her gaze fell on a tray of brownies from a bakery they’d gone to last week. The same place Brigit had lost her temper after one of her mom’s censorious remarks. I’ve gone without for ten years. I hope the next ten I can eat without guilt.

Mom caught her looking. “You mentioned how much you liked them.”

“Thanks.” Mom had gone from food patrol to brownie pusher. I only wanted to support your efforts to be healthy. I didn’t realize you were so miserable.

At least her time in Arizona had cleared up some misunderstandings between them.

Papers rustled at the table.

“What are these checks from Justin for?” Dad asked.

“He’s selling the furniture you guys bought me.” She loaded the plates on one arm and opened the cabinet with the glasses. “Another check should be arriving soon. I guess some stuff sold today. Then he’ll work on selling the art.”

Mom frowned and padded over to Dad. Her brow furrowed as she peered at the check. “Why is it made out to us? It’s your furniture.”

“You guys bought it. I’m gonna pay you back for that and for school.”

“Brigit…” Mom sighed and scowled at the check. “Our decision to use our savings for you kids was our decision. You don’t need to pay us back.”

“I do, and I will.” She set her armload on the table.

Mom’s lips pursed. Brigit tensed, the familiar weight of Mom’s perusal on her.

Mom shifted her gaze to Dad. “Put it aside for when Brigit gets a new place, Rick.” She stalked out of the kitchen, her shoulders rigid.

---