Page 50 of Tied Up In Tinsel
Bingo.
It was exactly what I’d hoped to hear, the confirmation I needed. Relief tugged at my lips, and I looked down at my plate to hide my grin. Ruby’s little foot kicked me under the table, and when I glanced at her, she winked again.
“A pony would be so cool!” Ruby cheered. “Can’t we get one?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Annie waved her fork, trying to brush it off. “We’ve got the land, sure, but a pony is a big responsibility. Just you and me here, that’s a lot to handle.”
Ruby didn’t miss a beat. “We have Brooks. He knows a lot about ponies.”
Her words hit like they always did—sweet and heavy all at once.
Annie sighed, setting her fork down. “Ruby,” she said gently. “Brooks isn’t staying here forever. He’s going back home after the holiday.”
Ruby’s wide eyes swung to me. “Home? Where’s your home? Is it far?”
The truth? I didn’t really have one. My life was a string of roads and towns, no real place that held me. But looking at her hopeful face, I couldn’t lay that truth at her feet. Not tonight.
“I’ll never be too far away for you, kid,” I told her. That much was true. If Ruby ever needed me, I’d drop everything. I’d get in my truck, hell, on a plane if I had to, and I’d find my way back to Snowberry Peak.
But the weight of Annie’s words lingered.Brooks isn’t staying here forever.
Ruby’s lower lip trembled, her eyes glossing over. She stared at me, silent, like she wanted to make me promise otherwise. When I didn’t, her little face crumbled.
This wasn’t the first time I tried to avoid answering, but I think my not denying that I was leaving felt final for her.
She shoved back from the table, her chair scraping across the floor, and bolted down the hallway with tears spilling.
“Ruby!” Annie called, half-rising from her seat.
But I held out a hand. “Wait. Let me.”
She hesitated, torn between motherly instinct and trust. Her eyes searched mine, her body taut like a bowstring.
“I think I should be the one to talk to her,” I said quietly.
For a moment, she studied me, then glanced down the hallway where Ruby had disappeared. Slowly, Annie lowered back into her chair, her hands curling tight around her napkin as if letting me go meant letting go of control.
I pushed back from the table and stood, already feeling that invisible pull toward the little girl who had somehow carved herself deep into me.
Peering into her room, I found Ruby curled into a small ball on the floor, a blanket pulled over her head like a makeshift cloak, as if it could shield her from the world.
I stepped inside quietly, careful not to startle her. Her room was everything Ruby was—bright, loud, and chaotic. Toys spilled out of bins, books stacked in lopsided towers, little twinkling lights strung across the wall. Every time I saw this room, it made me smile. It was so alive, soher.
“Ruby,” I said softly.
She sniffled but didn’t turn around.
Lowering myself down beside her, I let out a groan as I plopped onto the floor. Her eyes darted to me for a split second before she looked away again, tugging the blanket tighter.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Are you going to say anything other than no?”
