years.”
Cade noted the coolness in Larry’s tone. He wasn’t surprised. Larry would have known that Cade had callously given Rachel the boot, and Larry being the old-fashioned rancher he was, wouldn’t have liked it. “Haven’t been back in years,” he answered evenly. “But I’m meeting with one of the Jeffrey brothers from Jeffrey Farms a little later. They’re interested in one of my horses.”
“Have you stayed in touch with any of the folks here?”
Cade knew exactly what Larry was asking, and he shifted on the vinyl booth. “Not the way I should have.”
“Did you hear that Sally James passed a couple years ago?”
“Found out today.”
“She was a good woman.”
“Yes, she was,” Cade agreed. There were few people he’d liked as much as he’d liked Sally. She was born to nurture, and she’d been kinder to him than any of the foster-care mothers he’d known in his seven and a half years under the state’s care.
“Rachel took her passing hard,” Larry added, glancing up, staring Cade straight in the eyes.
Cade nodded. “I can imagine.”
Larry’s light blue eyes bored into his. “She hasn’t had an easy life.”
“Who?”
“Rachel.”
Gut knotting, Cade stretched his legs out under the table. “She seems like she’s doing all right now.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Yes. Today. Stopped by the house. Thought she looked great. Thinner, but still the prettiest girl in Texas.”
“So you know what’s going on with her?”
“She told me.”
Larry looked skeptical. “Doesn’t bother you?”
Cade shrugged uneasily. He didn’t want to talk about Rachel, or think about her getting married tomorrow. He was glad for her. He was. But it didn’t give him cause for celebration. “Things didn’t work out the way we’d imagined, but that’s life. You don’t always get what you want.”
Larry’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for heartless, King.”
“Not heartless, just realistic. Things don’t always go as planned. So you move on and, frankly, things have worked out the way they were meant to be.”
“You sound like the rest of them, judging her. But everybody makes mistakes and Lord knows, she’s had her hands full. First with Tommy, then Sally’s cancer—”
“You’re misunderstanding me. I’m not judging her. I’m happy for her. Happy that things have turned out the way they have for her.”
“Which part makes you happy, son?” Larry asked slowly, dragging the words out.
Cade’s right hand clenched into a fist under the table. What was the point of this? What did Larry want from him? “I’m glad she’s found happiness—”
“You’re joking, right?”
Cade drew a sharp, deep breath. “Why would I joke about something like that? I care about Rachel, and I’m happy she’s getting married tomorrow, and I hope he’s a great guy. He better be a great guy—”
“Rachel’s not getting married tomorrow.”
“Yes, she is. We talked about it, and she showed me the flowers and the cake.”
Larry laughed shortly. “Rachel showed you a cake because she’s a baker. She supports herself by making cakes, works out of her home, and this cake was for Mia, who is getting married tomorrow afternoon over in Weatherford at the botanical gardens, not Rachel.”
The cake was for Mia...
It was Mia getting married, not Rachel...
Cade’s brain worked to process this information but it didn’t make sense, and he found himself frowning, feeling stupid. Something wasn’t right. “If Rachel’s not getting married, why is she moving?”
Larry didn’t immediately answer. Instead he took a big sip from his coffee cup and then slowly set the cup back down in the saucer, his expression hard and scornful as he met Cade’s troubled gaze. Silence stretched, heavy with disapproval. “Maybe, cowboy, you should ask her.”
* * *
RACHEL MOVED SOUNDLESSLY through her house, picking up a few toys, turning out a table lamp in the living room, washing up Tommy’s dessert plate and cup from his milk.
Tommy had fallen asleep earlier tonight than usual, but frankly, it was a good thing. He’d come home from Mrs. Munoz overly exhausted, stressed and needing to decompress, which for him meant opening and closing his bedroom door thirty some times. She’d tried to distract him, but it’d only made him more determined to bang, so after a while she left him to his door activity. She folded a load of laundry, and then unloaded the dishwasher, trying to stay busy, trying to stay calm, trying not to worry about Tommy or think about Cade.
But now Tommy was in bed, and the house was tidy, and the laundry put away, and she couldn’t keep Cade from intruding on her thoughts any longer.
Cade had once been her world. She’d loved him so much, and she knew he wasn’t perfect, knew he had his fair share of demons...not that he talked about them. No, Cade was private and a bit of a lone wolf. But he’d loved her and Grandma. He’d really loved Grandma, and her grandmother had loved him, too.
She opened a flat empty box and was taping the bottom when the doorbell rang. Rachel tore the tape, sealed the flaps and hurried to the front door, hoping that the doorbell wouldn’t wake up Tommy. Wondering who’d be stopping by now, Rachel peeked through the window and saw a big black pickup truck with a huge cab and lots of shiny chrome parked out front. Rachel dropped the curtain, tensing. Cade’s truck.
He was back.
Stomach knotting, she unlocked the front door. “Cade,” she said, opening the door.
His head tipped. “Rachel.”
Her heart was racing, thudding so hard her hands shook, and suddenly she couldn’t do this. Make conversation with him again. Act as though everything was all right. Everything wasn’t all right. She was exhausted, frazzled and overwhelmed, and seeing him just made it worse. Seeing him made her realize how much life had happened in the past five-plus years. How much had happened to her. She’d changed. She wasn’t the same girl he’d left behind, and there was no place in her life for him now.
And so instead of letting him into the house, she stepped out onto the porch, quietly closing the door behind her, not wanting to wake Tommy. But joining Cade on the small stoop put her in close proximity with him, reminding her with a jolt that he wasn’t just tall, but broad shouldered, lean hipped and handsome. Heartbreakingly handsome. But looks had never been his problem. Drinking was his problem. Drinking and control...or lack
