Page 81 of Wrangled Love

Briar nods. “I’d love to.”

He pumps his fist. “Awesome.”

God, I could listen to his voice all day and never get tired of it. I worried that he might be selective with who he speaks to moving forward, but I shouldn’t be surprised that he feels comfortable talking with Briar. Since we got to Bluebell, he’s felt safe with her, and I’m so lucky she’s a part of our lives.

“Swing by the shop with your dad next week, kiddo,” Charlie tells Caleb, coming to stand beside him and Briar. “A few dinosaurlamps came in this morning, and I promised Briar you’d get first pick once I’ve fixed them up.”

Caleb’s face lights up. “For real?”

“You better believe it. I’d never joke about something so serious,” she says with a hand on her hip. “You’re officially the Head Dino Lamp Picker.”

Caleb grins, tugging Briar’s sleeve, making sure he has her attention. “Did you hear that? I’m getting my own dino lamp.”

She chuckles, ruffling his hair. “Can’t wait to see which one you pick out.”

God, Briar is a saint. There’s nothing she won’t do to make my son happy, even when it means bringing in reinforcements to entertain his endless dinosaur obsession.

“Dad said we could get ice cream. Can you come with us?” Caleb asks her.

Briar’s mouth rounds into a small O as she looks between us. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your day together.”

“We want you there, don’t we?” I ask Caleb.

He nods with a toothy grin.

“As long as you’re free,” I add.

“She is,” Charlie replies for her.

“It’s settled,” I announce, not giving Briar a chance to argue. “We better hurry, or they might run out of chocolate with sprinkles.” I wink at Caleb when his eyes grow wide.

As Briar stands, Caleb is quick to move between us, taking hold of both our hands, leading us down the street in the direction of the ice cream shop.

“Have fun,” Charlie calls out behind us.

We draw plenty of curious glances from passersby. The town’s still buzzing with gossip about Briar and me together at the county fair, and seeing us out with Caleb on a Sunday afternoon will no doubt only add fuel to the fire. But I don’t pay them any mind because my full attention is on my two favorite people.

Sweet Spur Creamery hasn’t changed much over the years. It still smells like fresh waffle cones and cherry syrup. The wooden floorboards creak under my boots, and the original vinyl booths are patched with duct tape. A chalkboard menu with the flavor of the day and other specials is displayed behind the counter.

Before my parents gambled everything away, this was our go-to spot. My dad’s favorite flavor, black licorice, only came around once a month, so he made sure we never missed it. That is, until their addiction caught up with them and we lost the farm and ended up living in a run-down trailer park on the edge of town.

Until this summer, I never thought I’d set foot here again, let alone with my son. He’s endured losing the person he loved most, but I’ll make sure he never questions how deeply he’s loved—surrounded by people who would do anything for him. It’s a stark contrast to my own upbringing, but I’m grateful for my past because it showed me the mistakes to avoid and gave me a roadmap to become a better father.

Caleb makes a beeline for the ice cream case, pressing his hands to the glass and rising on his tiptoes as he scans the lineup of flavors.

A lanky teen in a Sweet Spur Creamery T-shirt, with a name tag reading “Beau,” leans against the counter. “Welcome in. What can I get y’all?”

I glance at Briar. “What would you like?”

“Rodeo rocky road, please,” she says, smiling at Beau.

“And a scoop of butter pecan, both in cups with a cone on top,” I turn to Caleb whose nose nearly touches the glass as he studies his options. “Do you know what you want, buddy? Or do you want to try any samples?”

The last time we came in, he was too shy to ask to try anyflavors before ordering, so I’m not expecting him to make eye contact with the server and point at the cookies and cream.

“Can I try that one?” he asks softly.

“Sure thing, kid,” Beau says.

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