Page 33 of Lost Then Found
I turn back around, walk straight up to him and hold out my hand. “Give me your phone.”
Boone watches me for a second before pulling it from his jacket pocket and handing it over. I type in my number, press save, and pass it back to him.
“Text me,” I say. “I’ll give you a time and a place to talk.”
Boone nods, his grip tightening around the phone like it’s the only solid thing in the world he has right now. “Soon.”
I nod once. “Soon.”
And then I bust my ass to the back door, stepping out onto the sidewalk. The cold slams into me like a tidal wave, like ice water filling my lungs. I take a breath, but it doesn’t feel like air. It feels like guilt and regret and twelve years of decisions catching up all at once.
Boone knows.
God, he knows.
I clutch the folder Wendell handed me, the stiff edges biting into my palms, but I barely feel it. Everything feels too sharp, too real in a way I don’t have time to process.
If I could rewind, just five measly minutes, I would. Hell, I’d rewind years. Undo the moment Boone walked through those doors, the moment the recognition hit him like a freight train.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
Hudson shouldn’t have seen his father for the first time under the glow of a neon EAT HERE sign, with the smell of burnt toast hanging in the air, while half the town loitered over breakfast. He should’ve first seen him in a space I could control, where I could ease them both into it. Where I could soften the edges before the inevitable cutting began.
But that’s not what happened.
Boone looked at our son and saw himself. And I saw my past catch up to my present with nowhere left to hide.
I close my eyes, breathe in deep, but it does nothing to settle me. My body is already ahead of me, already bracing for impact.
I yank open the car door, slide into the seat. The world outside blursfor a second. Hudson shifts next to me, his knee bouncing, that restless energy rolling off him in waves. His cap is still pulled low, but I know he’s watching me. Waiting.
“You okay?” His voice is easy, but I know my kid. I know when he’s testing the waters.
I push a tight smile onto my face, start the engine. “Yeah, baby. We’re good.”
It’s not a lie.
Not exactly.
I don’t know if it’s the truth, either.
But for now, it’s going to have to be.
Chapter 4
BOONE
“What thehelldo you mean you have a son?”
Wren’s voice cuts through the dining room like a shot—sharp, loud, and full of disbelief. She’s looking at me like I just dropped a bomb in the middle of the table. Her red ponytail snaps over her shoulder as she shakes her head.
She’s twenty-eight now. Which still doesn’t add up to me.
Last time I saw her, she was sixteen—practically running this ranch like she owned the deed, barking orders at the ranch hands with a clipboard clutched to her chest and a scowl that could make grown men fold. Smart as hell. Always two steps ahead of everyone. Obsessed with planning things down to the minute. The type to alphabetize the spice rack in Loretta’s kitchen and color-code the calving schedule—just because she could. She didn’t miss a thing back then. Still doesn’t.
But now?
Now she’s grown into herself in a way that makes me pause every time I look at her. Strong. Steady. Still a little sharp around the edges, but she carries herself like a woman who doesn’t need anyone to tell her she’s doing a good job—because she already knows. I see her out there managing the staff, wrangling horses, negotiating contracts over the phone while fixing a fence with the other hand. She’s a force. And I missed the wholedamn evolution.
