Page 143 of Rocky Mountain Home
His dad stared off into the distance. “Only you need to follow your own path. Even if you like where they’ve ended up, chances are you’ll walk a different road to get there.”
“This sounds like a repeat of your be your own man spiel.”
“Probably, because it’s true.” Mike grinned. “I like to reuse my best material. Saves energy. Six boys, you know.”
In spite of the frustrations Jesse felt inside, in spite of the worry he wasn’t really needed, laughter rose. “Yeah, I might have noticed a time or two.”
Mike slapped him on the shoulder.
“Let’s focus on one issue. You’re not proud because it’s something you’ve accomplished. You’re proud because it’s something you’re privileged to be a part of. Something greater than yourself, that you couldn’t do alone.”
Jesse considered the strength Ashley’d displayed the day Daisy arrived. “Couldn’t give birth—damn straight.”
His dad ignored his comment, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the long strip of paper he’d been peeking at during the baby shower.
He looked at it for a moment before holding it to Jesse.
“You missed the end of my speech. I worked hard on this, so I’d like to give it to you. Don’t worry about it now, but I hope you read it later. I hope you think on it, and if you ever want to talk, my door is open.” He glanced up at the twinkling stars that were blinking into existence as the sky darkened and night fell. “We should get back to the ladies. They’re bound to have a late-night snack on the table—you probably could eat after chopping the equivalent of two men’s work.”
Then he refused to say anything more.
Jesse apologized to Dare when they entered the house, but she brushed it aside, curling up against him and offering a kiss in return. The swell of her stomach was there between them, Buckaroo moving in protest as their bodies connected briefly.
His mom and dad left not too much later. When he came back in the house after walking them out, Dare had disappeared into the washroom, the shower running.
Jesse sat at the kitchen table and pulled out Mike’s speech.
Words matter.
A man can buy a field and pay for cattle to live on it, but if that’s all he does, he’s not a rancher. A rancher—I’d make a list, but we all know how much work it takes to make the Coleman land our home. We know with every bone in our aching bodies, at times. Day after day, month after month, year after year. It’s work that makes the difference.
A farmer’s not someone who dumped a bucket of grain in a field then walked away. A man’s not a husband because he said “I do” one fine Saturday afternoon then never saw his wife again.
A man is a father because he planted a seed. He’s a daddy because of everything else he does.
Don’t be a father to your children—be a daddy.
Jesse sat in the quiet darkness and let the words sink in. Or more like, he sat there, unable to move. He felt as if he’d been flattened with a heavy rock. His heart pounded and his ears rang, and if he moved too fast he might just fall over.
His dad was so fucking right—no surprise there.
Jesse shoved to his feet and marched into the bedroom in time to see one of his T-shirts fall into place over an otherwise naked woman.
Dare had a hand over her mouth, yawning, as she turned to face him. “Hey. I’m sorry I didn’t wait. I’m so ready to crash, but I want to talk too.”
Jesse pulled the edge of the quilt down and gestured her in. “We can talk in here. I’ll be one sec.”
He hurried, stripping to his briefs and returning as quick as he could after getting ready for bed. Crawling between the covers and reaching for her.
Dare turned toward him, stroking a hand through his hair. “You okay?”
“Maybe.” He took the time to breathe in her scent, all warm and soft and growing more familiar by the day. “Sorry for taking off on you.”
“It’s okay, really.” Her eyes were huge. “Talk to me.”
So much was going through his head at that moment, and some of it he was just starting to get a handle on himself. He wasn’t sure he wanted to even try to voice what he was feeling.
But one thing he could admit. One thing that he wanted her to know. “I don’t regret that we’re here. It took a little while for everything to sink in, but I do want what’s best for the baby.”
