boys than my parents did by me.
Luckily, it wasn’t a very high bar to clear.
Once the twins were unbuckled, he and Vi each took one, falling in step as they approached the house.
“The four of us should go to the grocery store tomorrow afternoon,” she proposed. “Let the boys show us their favorite foods, and I can plan some cooking projects. Kids are more likely to eat something they feel invested in.”
“Sounds good.” Even better, it sounded simple. The last few weeks had been so overwhelming. Deciding which belongings to bring with the boys and which to leave in storage. Gathering all the records needed to transfer them to Cupid’s Bow Elementary. Creating a to-do list of new parenting tasks. He needed to memorize their allergies, find a pediatrician, consider whether they would benefit from grief therapy. In comparison, picking up dinner ingredients at the supermarket was so easy, he felt light-headed with relief.
Vi had left the front door standing open when she came out to greet him. The smallest of her canine pack dashed past Grayson on the porch stairs, nearly tripping him. As he steadied himself, Vi made an apologetic noise behind him.
“Sorry, should have warned you. I give the dogs treats when we’re all in for the night, and Shep gets a little greedy for hers.”
“No harm done. I’ve got to start doing better about watching where I walk anyway. I stepped barefoot on one of the boys’ Legos last week and thought I was going to cry. Those suckers hurt.”
Inside the house, she told him, “I’m putting the boys in your old room and you can sleep on the twin bed in my office. Is that okay for tonight? We can figure out different arrangements if—”
“Vi, you’re doing us the favor,” he reminded her. “You could put me in the doghouse and I wouldn’t complain.” Considering a few of the cheaper motels during his early days on the rodeo circuit, the doghouse would not be the worst accommodations he’d ever experienced.
The bed in Grayson’s former room was a queen-size, with plenty of space for two little boys to share it without bumping into each other or accidentally pushing each other off the mattress. But the second Sam and Tyler were tucked under the sheets, they rolled toward each other, as if seeking comfort.
Gray reached for the lamp on the nightstand. “I’ll get some night-lights, but can we leave this on for now? Tyler’s a tough little dude during the day, but he hates the dark. The last thing I’d want is for him to wake up scared in an unfamiliar place.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should have timed the drive differently, so that we arrived during the day and they’d have a few hours to acclimate.”
“Don’t second-guess yourself. If they’d spent the afternoon in the new place, they might have been too anxious or excited to fall asleep. You’ll be right next door if they need you tonight. In the meantime, they look like they’re getting much-needed rest. What about you? When was the last time you got eight hours?”
His laugh was hollow. Over the past decade, he’d trained himself to sleep anywhere, from noisy hotels with thin walls to the ground on occasional cattle drives. But the last decent night’s sleep he’d had was before the phone call about Blaine and Miranda.
“I keep a bottle of emergency whiskey over the fridge,” she said. “Think a slug of that would help you sleep?”
“I don’t touch alcohol.”
“Understandable. Hot tea, then? I’m going to have some lemon balm. Valerian is relaxing, too.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Thanks, but I’m not really a hot-tea kind of guy. All I need is a glass of water and...maybe a cookie?”
“I baked a fresh batch of oatmeal cranberry last night.”
They made their way to the kitchen, where the smallest dog—a mixed breed with the coloring of an Australian shepherd but the implausibly short legs of a dachshund or corgi—was impatiently turning circles by the counter, whimpering for her nightly treat.
“That’s Shep,” Vi said. “The one-eyed beauty behind you is Tiff and the golden doodle who grew a lot bigger than his former owner’s expectations is Buster.”
“You and your strays.” Thank God she was so willing to open her doors to anything that needed refuge. I hope the boys like animals. “You must have the biggest heart in Texas.”
She looked away, her expression troubled. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve had my share of selfish moments, made my share of mistakes. In fact...”
He reached for the Holstein-patterned cookie jar, so delighted to be back in this kitchen that it took him a moment to realize she trailed off. He might hate the surrounding town—the place where everyone knew his mom hadn’t wanted him, where classmates bullied him until his freshman growth spurt, where his dad’s drinking was public knowledge—but all of that mattered a little less at Violet’s kitchen table. “You were saying?” he asked as he pulled out three cookies.
“Never mind. You’ve already had a long day. Plenty of time for us to talk later.” She stuck her head in the pantry and emerged with a box of tea bags. “It’s so weird. Sometimes when I look in your direction, I still expect to see a dark-haired kid with two front teeth missing, not a six-foot cowboy.”
“Whereas you never age,” he said fondly. “If hot tea is your secret, maybe I should rethink turning it down.”
“Pffft. The laugh lines are increasing, the red in the hair is fading and working at home has destroyed any sense of fashion I may have once possessed.” She held her arms wide, showing off the ancient University of Texas shirt she wore with purple plaid pajama shorts.
“You’re gorgeous. You look like that actress...” He snapped his fingers. “Jessica Chastain.”
“Uh-huh. Spoken like a guy sucking up to get baked goods.”
Grinning, he bit a cookie in half. “Mmm. It’s been too long since I had these.”
“Maybe you should have visited more.”
Shame flooded him. He’d sent her tickets to watch him in the rodeo and had even convinced her to spend a sandy Christmas at a beach resort with him, but he knew his unwillingness to come to Cupid’s Bow had stung her. She’d deserved better. At eighteen, he’d been so hell-bent on leaving that he’d gone the day after his last high-school exam, depriving her of even watching him walk across the stage a week later to get his diploma. “Vi, I—”
“Don’t worry about it. I was teasing, and I shouldn’t have. You have a lot on your plate right now and don’t need me guilt-tripping you. Sorry.”
“I’m sorry. You must feel taken for granted, with me staying away until I needed a huge favor.”
“The favor was my idea,” she reminded him. “And I’m happy to help. That’s what families do.”
Theoretically. His mother had apparently missed that memo. At least I have an aunt who loves me. Blaine, who’d grown up in the foster-care system, had been less lucky.
“I am beyond grateful. And I promise, I won’t take advantage of the situation, leaving all the parenting to you. These boys are my responsibility. I won’t be a slacker guardian, but
