Page 49 of Wildest Forever

“Shit,” he sighs, dropping his arms from his chest just as he rests his hand on the back of the barstool.

“Yeah,” my voice low, “thought I would bring her here for a little while, just to get her out the house. I need her to know that she has a support network around her for when she needs it. It's only ever been her and Gerry, and now... well, it's just going to be me and her. We don't even know each other and yet I have got to be there, ready to support her when she falls.” Tipping my head back, my eyes pin to the ceiling, “It's a lot of weight on my already heavy shoulders,” I admit, and before I can even let my head fall forward, Riggs' hand is on my shoulder giving me a reassuring squeeze.

“We're all here, we will all be here to support her when she is ready,” and just hearing those words makes me feel a little better.

“I feel like I am in well over my head,” I admit, letting my head roll forward as the soft sound of whistling begins to echo around the kitchen.

“You're not, you just need a chance to find your feet. A lot has gone on over the last year. Dad, the mines, the suits...” he trails off. “It's a lot, but it's even more now you have Morgan and Cottonwheel ranch to factor in as well.”

I nod silently, my fingers curling around the cupboard and reaching for some mugs then placing them on the countertop.

Riggs' hand slips off my shoulder when I hear the sound of soft footsteps approaching, looking over my shoulder, I see Morgan entering the kitchen.

She looks so innocent.

Eyes are glittery, bottom lip dragged behind her teeth.

“Shout if you need help, I don't want one,” Riggs mutters before he nods softly at Morgan then slips out of the kitchen.

Letting out a deep, slow, exhale, I turn back around and pop tea bags into four mugs.

One for mom, one for Morgan, one for Tripp and one for Aspen. I had no idea where Dixie was, but she would sure as hell tell me if she wanted one.

Morgan is beside me in three small steps, she spins, and the edge of the worktop presses against her back, her arms folded across her chest.

“You okay?”

But I know she isn't. Her mind is elsewhere.

Probably with her granddad.

She looks up at me, but I focus on pouring the hot water over the tea bags and stirring gently.

“Just feel a little out of sorts,” she admits, her eyes lifting from mine before they're on the archway of the kitchen.

“That's understandable,” I mutter softly before adding honey into mom's chamomile tea.

“I'm scared to go home,” she whispers and this time I do look at her, and fuck I hate seeing the unshed tears that threaten to fall.

I sigh, holding my hand out for her to take.

She is hesitant, her eyes dropping to my open palm and as soon as her skin is on mine, I pull her towards me, her chest to mine, head tipped back as her stunning greens bounce between mine.

“What’s scaring you?” I whisper, locking my fingers around her lower back, holding her against me.

“What if I go home and he has died,” her throat bobs as she swallows, and I try and stay positive.

You would never walk into that.I want to promise her, but that would be one promise I couldn't keep.There will always be someone with him, but it still doesn't stop it from happening.

“Hopefully we can both sit next to him, hold his hand until he has passed over peacefully,” I try and keep my voice steady, but this is all bringing back my own hurt. I wasn't ready to lose my dad. But he was taken away from me because he chose to be the hero.

I will never blame Dixie for his death. I do hold blame, but it's more on myself.I should have run in and saved her.

“That would be nice,” she stammers over her hushed words, a tear slipping down her cheek and my lips turn down as I watch it drip off her chin and into her tee.

“Please don't cry,” and I know it's easy for me to say that, but at the same time I hated that she was sad and there was nothing I could do about it.

“I really am trying,” she half laughs as another tear runs and this time, I catch it with my thumb and press it to my lips, kissing it away.

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