do that! Except even he knew he’d sound like Austin having a hissy fit over not wanting to put on a coat, or go to bed, or anything else the kid decided was against his druthers at any given moment. Even so...
Even so.
He swept a palm across his hair, then hooked both his hands on his hips, trying to ignore the plea in her eyes, for him to understand. Probably similar to what was in his.
“I hear what you’re saying. I do. But home isn’t just about place, it’s about people. Family. Although maybe that doesn’t mean the same thing to you it does to me.”
Deanna jerked. Sonuvabitch.
“Crap, Dee, I didn’t—”
“No, you’re right. I mean, of course I loved Dad, but...” She angled back toward the window, where the stark, late fall light brought the worry and exhaustion on her face into sharp relief. “But we definitely didn’t have the kind of relationship you and your brothers did—do—with your parents. My aunt and uncle have always been...concerned for me, and my cousin Emily’s a good friend, but...” A tiny, sad smile curved her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
A quick shrug accompanied, “It’s what I know. Although...” The smile grew as her hand went to her belly. “Although my plan is to do better by this kid.” She almost laughed, but her eyes told an entirely different story. “At least I can dream, right?”
Josh slugged his hands in his front pockets, waiting out the next, even stronger, wave of sympathy. At least he’d had great examples in his parents, when it came to his own relationship with his son. And that still didn’t stop the fear that he’d screw up...
Ah, hell. Because sometimes it wasn’t about what you wanted, it was about what was best for everybody. And tying Deanna down to someplace she’d never wanted to be to begin with, simply because Josh had other ideas...
And those eyes...
“Okay,” he pushed out.
“Okay, what?”
“You wanna sell, we’ll sell.” She seemed to sag in relief. “Although...” He glanced around before meeting her eyes again. God, this was shredding him. All of it. “No sense putting it on the market without sprucing it up a bit first. Otherwise we’re likely to get a bunch of lowball offers. I’m sure you don’t want that.” At her wide eyes, a tight grin stretched across his face. “Yeah. Not as dumb as I look. I’d also like to do one last Christmas party. For the community. If that’s okay with you.”
Like the annual Fourth of July party, Granville had also hosted a Christmas bash at the house every year, even playing Santa for the children. To yank that out from under everybody this close to Christmas...well, it just didn’t seem right.
And judging from Deanna’s slow nod, she apparently agreed.
“Except...” Her brow knotted. “Who’s going to bankroll the fixing up?”
“Doubt we’re talking anything major. I can probably do most of the work myself, in fact. Since it’s my slow season.”
Still frowning, she cupped her hands under her belly, like she was trying to ease the weight of it. “And you do realize my window for getting back home is getting narrower by the second?”
“I figured as much. So if you’ll trust me to oversee the reno, let us throw that last party...” Josh waited out the sharp pain in his sternum. “We could list her right after the New Year. Shouldn’t take long to sell. Especially since your dad regularly got offers for the ranch—”
“I know,” she said on a breath. “That much, he did share.” Another beat or two passed. “You’re really good with this?”
“Good?” Josh slipped his hands into his pockets again. “Not at all. But you taking care of that little girl,” he said, nodding toward her middle, “is far more important than me being nostalgic or whatever. Besides, kinda hard to regret losing what was never really mine.”
Her eyes glittered. “I’m so sorry, Josh...”
“Nothing to be sorry for. I swear.”
A moment passed before she waddled over to wrap her arms around him and give him as much of a hug as her belly would let her. “Thank you,” she said softly, then returned to the desk to rummage through the drawers until she found a legal pad and a pen, after which she awkwardly lowered herself into her father’s old swivel desk chair and started making lists.
As Josh felt a dream he hadn’t even known he’d had slip from his grasp.
He grabbed his coat and gloves off the hall tree on his way outside, getting all the way over to the stables before he slammed his gloved fist into the splintered siding, making Starfire turn her head and give him a What the hell are you doing, boy? look. Just once in his life, it’d be nice to have something go—and stay—his way.
And maybe one day he’d discover a hitherto unknown immunity to a pair of sad female eyes.
Today, however, was clearly not that day.
Muttering an ugly curse, Josh slammed the wall again, then leaned his forehead against the cold, unyielding wood, trying desperately to steady his breathing.
* * *
“Uncle Granville did what?”
Deanna eased back a little more in her father’s desk chair to almost smile at the computer screen. Or rather, the completely flummoxed expression in her cousin’s bright blue eyes. “You heard me. Left the property to me and Josh equally.”
Emily swept a hunk of soft, sorority-sister-perfect golden brown hair behind her perfect little ear, looking both curious and concerned. “So what now? You’re hardly going to move back there, are you?”
“Not to worry.” Although, strangely, she wasn’t nearly as thrilled with Josh’s acquiescence as she would’ve expected. Then again, living with a tiny skull lodged against her spine tended to leech the joy out of most things these days. She loved this baby more than life itself, but she’d be extremely glad when they no longer shared a body. “We’re going to sell the ranch and divide the proceeds. Well, Josh is, I’ll be home in a few days.”
Em frowned. “And he’s okay with that? Selling, I mean?”
“He...agreed it’s for the best.”
“Huh.” Emily delicately bit off the end of a raw baby carrot. “So how is Josh, anyway?”
“Good,” Deanna said, deciding not to go into the whole he’s-got-a-kid-now thing. Because, pointless?
“I remember him, you know.”
Of course she did. As one tended to remember when that first, blinding hormonal rush swarms your brain so hard and hot and fast you can barely breathe. Like a simultaneously thrilling and scary-as-hell amusement park ride.
“He’s changed, though,” Deanna said.
“I’m sure. It’s been...oh, gosh. About eleven years, huh?”
“Yep.”
