Reunited With The Bull Rider. Jill Kemerer
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“Pastor,” Nash said, “could you give us a moment, please?”
“Of course.” He stood. “I’ll see how it’s going in the preschool room. Be back in a few minutes.”
Amy straightened. She wanted to look away but didn’t. It had been ten years. She’d moved on. And the fact he had a daughter made it quite obvious he had, as well.
“I didn’t know, Amy. I never would have agreed to come if—”
“If you’d known I was involved.” She hated how snippy she sounded. And that his full lips and high cheekbones still made her chest flutter. His cropped brown hair gave him a maturity his previous waves had not. The laugh lines around his eyes were a kick in the gut. He’d been carefree, rising to the top of the professional bull riding circuit while she’d nursed a broken heart. And he hadn’t cared one bit.
He hadn’t loved her.
He’d loved someone else and had a baby with her.
“So, she’s your daughter.” She was surprised she wasn’t yelling at him.
“No.”
No? What was he talking about?
“She’s my little sister.”
“I know that’s not true,” she snapped. “You’re an orphan.”
“Yeah, about being an orphan.” He shifted his jaw. “Not quite.”
* * *
Nash had known moving back to Sweet Dreams was dumber than climbing on the world’s meanest bull while recovering from a broken rib, but he’d done both anyway. The bull hadn’t been nearly as scary as the thought of running into Amy. He’d been in town a mere week and already his worst fear had come true. Except this was even worse than running into her. This was...horrible...beyond bad.
He’d loved Amy more than anything on earth. That’s why he’d had to leave all those years ago—to protect her.
But now another female needed his protection. He would give Ruby all the love and normalcy he’d missed out on as a kid, and if it meant living in the same town as Amy, so be it.
He just hadn’t planned on running into her this soon. In fact, he hadn’t put any thought into what he’d do when he eventually did run into her, which was inevitable in a small town.
How could he tell her everything that needed to be said in a few minutes? It was hard to concentrate with her big coffee-colored eyes shooting knives his way, not to mention her long dark brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, reminding him of its silkiness. Creamy skin, curvy figure—she looked even better than when he’d left, and she’d been a knockout back then.
“What do you mean, ‘not quite’?” Her clipped words told him loud and clear how hard this was for her. He owed her...so much.
“I wasn’t an orphan. I lied to you.” It had been the only lie he’d told her. And it had torn them apart. She just didn’t know it.
“I see.”
He hesitated. “The pastor will be back soon, so I’ll give you the condensed version. My mother had me when she was fifteen years old. She was a drug addict and, at times, a prostitute. She told me she didn’t know who my father was—could have been any number of guys. I haven’t seen or talked to her in over ten years. In December I got a call saying she’d died of a heroin overdose. That’s when I found out I had a little sister.”
The chaos of the past four months gripped his muscles in relentless tension. He shrugged his shoulders one at a time to relieve it, which didn’t work. Amy stared at him with a mix of disbelief and disgust.
“How did you get custody of her then? Wouldn’t someone close to her, someone she was familiar with, raise her?”
“You’d think so, right?” He flexed his fingers. “Needless to say, my mother didn’t leave a will. Ruby’s father is like mine—unknown. Our mother was turning tricks for drugs at the time and had no idea who he was. Believe me, the courts and I did our best to find out. We had little to go on. No one else wants the kid.”
Amy’s face looked ready to crack into a million pieces. “Do you want her?”
“Yes.”
“A child isn’t a duty.”
“Exactly.” He lightly thumped his knuckles on the table. “That’s what I told the judge when I petitioned to be her guardian. I couldn’t let her grow up the way I did.” He hadn’t meant to admit the last part. When they’d dated, he’d purposely not discussed his upbringing with Amy. He hadn’t wanted her to know the depravity of his youth. Since he’d moved to Sweet Dreams from Sheridan, Wyoming, when he was thirteen, hiding his childhood hadn’t been difficult to do.
What did it matter now? He’d lost all rights with her the day he’d skipped town.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He had to get back on track. “Ruby’s been growing up in a bad—I’m talking highly dysfunctional—environment. The night our mother died, the police went to the apartment she’d been living in. Ruby was there, alone. No food. Heat was turned off. Electricity, too. Who knows how long she’d been there by herself? Believe me when I say the only stable times in the girl’s life have been when she was in foster care while our mother was in jail.”
Amy’s eyes widened, and she blinked rapidly. Then she lifted her chin. “Why here? Why bring her to Sweet Dreams?”
Because he’d had no other choice. Ten years ago he’d purchased a home nearby, but that had been when he’d still believed he could have it all, including Amy.
“I own property outside of town. As soon as the court awarded me custody, Ruby’s therapist recommended I get her settled as soon as possible, and she was adamant about Ruby needing stability. I’d bought the house and land before...well...before I left, but I’ve never lived there. I’ve been renting it out. The therapist urged me to raise Ruby here permanently.”
“Back up.” She brought her hand in front of her, palm out, fingers splayed. “You own a house here?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess I didn’t know you at all.” She tucked her lips under as if trying to get her emotions under control. “Not an orphan. Bought a house—I’m assuming when we were still together. What else didn’t you tell me?”
Regret thundered through his veins. He wished he was on a bull, in the chute, ready to be released into the dirt arena. It was the only place he’d ever been able to escape. He imagined wrapping his hand with the rosined rope...
“Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She turned her head to the side, exposing the pale skin of her neck.
“The reason I left—”
“No.” She held her hand out. “You don’t get to do this now. I’m not interested in your confession. It’s too late. I’m here for one reason—to mentor a little girl. Whatever you want to get off your chest will have to stay there.”
“You would still help her?” Nash had to give it to her—she was courageous. He’d always admired her quiet strength, her morals, the way she’d soothe anything bothering him. And he’d thrown it all away.
“I don’t know.” Her dark eyebrows formed a V. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“She’s withdrawn, malnourished, fearful. She was placed with a young couple while the courts decided if I could be her permanent legal guardian. I visited as often as allowed. It took a long time before she warmed up to me. The day I gained custody was the day we moved here. The therapist thought it would be best. No more temporary living arrangements.”
“So you’re here to stay.”
“Yes.”