Page 103 of Wild As Her

“Hard?” I echo, feeling pissed off, but holding it back. “Hard what? Hard to love?”

She flinches like I’ve slapped her. She doesn’t answer, just looks down at her cup.

I press on, my voice low but steady. “She’s not hard to love. Loving her is theeasiestthing I’ve ever done. I don’t even have to try. I just do. It’s like breathing.”

Teresa doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But she looks surprised.

“I wake up thinking about her. Wondering what she’s doing that day. If she’s eaten. I wonder why she’s still trying to do everything on her own. If she knows how amazing she is. How loved she is. And yeah, she’s stubborn. She’s sharp. She doesn’t make it easy to get in. But if she lets you in?” I shake my head, throat tight. “It’s the best kind of love there is.”

Teresa stares out across the parking lot like she can’t meet my eyes anymore.“She’s been angry with me for so long. Probably since she was a teenager."

“She was a kid,” I say. “And kids don’t get angry without a reason. They get hurt. They get abandoned. They get tired of fighting for scraps of affection.”

“She didn’t make it easy,” she says, voice rough.

“She’s a girl who lost everything. Her dad abandoned her over and over. She lost her grandparents, the ranch, the one place that felt safe, and she’s still fighting to keep it all together. She didn’t need you to make it easy. She just needed you tobe there.”

Teresa swallows. Her eyes are glassy now, rimmed red from more than just the night shift. “I don't know how to get there,” she whispers.

"But the real question is, do you want to? Because that’s what I’m here to find out today. You see, I love your daughter. I’m going to marry her someday. We’re going to have a family. And whether or not you get to be a part of that family is dependent upon how you act moving forward.”

She turns to look at me, her face full of surprise. “Of course I love her. I’m her mother.”

“Just because you’re a parent doesn’t mean you love your kid. I need to know whether you’re going to get your shit straight or not. Because I can’t have you tearing her up. I won’t have it. You’re either in or you’re out, Teresa. You gotta pick one.”

“I’m in,” she whispers. Then she looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. “She must really love you.”

“She trusts me,” I say. “Because I’ve never made her feel like she was too much. And I never will.”

A tear slips down her cheek. She doesn’t wipe it away.

I look over at her. “She doesn’t need you to be a perfect mom. Just be willing to try. You don’t have to know what to say. Just show up. Let her be messy. Let her be mad. And love her anyway. You do it for Ollie. You need to do it for her.”

Her lip trembles and she nods. “She’s never told me she needed me,” she says quietly.

“She won’t,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t.”

We stand there in silence, the weight of it all hanging between us. The sun is higher now, casting gold across the hood of the truck.

I nod toward her car. “You should go home now and get some rest.”

She nods slowly, steps back toward her vehicle. Then pauses.

“Jack,” she says as she turns back around. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me what I’ve been missing. I've missed her.”

I pull Teresa in for a hug, and she pats my back and holds me. She needed this.

I watch her drive away, my chest full of hope and ache and something heavier. Missing my own mom.

Because Cami doesn’t know it yet, but someone’s finally fighting for her in a way she never dared ask for. And I’ll keep doing it. Every damn day.

I know something’s off the second Cami walks intothe barn.

She’s too quiet. No stomping or muttering under her breath about the show annoying her or Beau baking. Just her boots against the concrete and the soft sound of her breath catching in her throat.

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