I kept up with you, though. You’re just as talented as I always thought you’d be.”
Brett looked in his father’s eyes. Joe McCullen looked weak, like he might fade into death any second. But there was no judgment or anger there.
“I’m glad you followed your dreams,” his father said in a hoarse voice. “If you’d stayed here and worked the ranch, you’d have felt smothered and hated me for holding you back.”
Brett’s lungs squeezed for air. His father actually understood him. That was a surprising revelation.
“But there is something you need to take care of while you’re here. You remember Willow?”
Brett went very still. How could he have forgotten her? She was his first love, the only woman he’d ever loved. But his father had discouraged him from getting too involved with her when he was younger.
So he’d left Pistol Whip, chasing a more exciting lifestyle.
Willow had wasted no time in moving on...and getting married.
She even had a child.
Her last name was what, now? Howard?
“Brett?”
“Yes, I remember her,” he said through clenched teeth. “I heard she’s married and has a family.” That was the real reason he hadn’t returned to Pistol Whip more often.
It hurt too damn much to see her with another man.
“That girl’s got troubles.”
Brett stiffened. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I was wrong to encourage you to break up with her,” his father murmured. “I’ve made my mistakes, son. I don’t want you to do the same.”
His father reached out a shaky hand, and Brett took it, chilled by his cold skin.
“Promise me you’ll check on her and her boy,” his father murmured.
“That’s the reason you wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” His father coughed. “Now send Ray in here. I need to talk to him.”
Brett squeezed his father’s hand, then headed to the door. If his father wanted him to check on Willow, something bad must have happened to her.
His heart hammered at the thought of seeing her again. But he couldn’t refuse his father’s wishes.
He’d pay her a visit and make sure she was okay. Then he’d get the hell out of Pistol Whip again.
When his father was gone, there was no reason for him to stick around.
Three days later
BRETT MCCULLEN WAS back in town.
Willow James, Willow Howard technically, although she was no longer using her married name, rubbed her chest as if the gesture could actually soothe the ache in her heart. Brett was the only man she’d ever loved. Ever would love.
But he’d walked away from her years ago and never looked back.
She sat in her car at the edge of the graveyard like a voyeur to the family as they said their final goodbyes to their father, Joe. Part of her wanted to go to Brett and comfort him for his loss.
But a seed of bitterness still niggled at her for the way he’d deserted her. And for the life he’d led since.
He’d always been footloose and fancy-free, a bad-boy charmer who could sweet-talk any girl into doing whatever he wanted.
He’d taken her virginity and her heart with him when he’d left Pistol Whip to chase his dreams of becoming a famous rodeo star.
He’d also chased plenty of other women.
Her heart squeezed with pain again. She’d seen the news footage, the magazine articles and pictures of his awards and conquests.
She’d told herself it didn’t matter. She had the best part of him anyway—his son.
Sam.
A little boy Brett knew nothing about.
If Brett saw Sam in town, would he realize the truth? After all, Sam had Brett’s deep brown eyes. That cleft in his chin.
The same streak of stubbornness and the love of riding.
A shadow fell across the graveyard, storm clouds gathering, and the crowd began to disperse. She spotted Brett shaking hands with several locals, his brothers doing the same. Then he lifted his head and looked across the graveyard, and for a moment, she thought he was looking straight at her. That he saw her car.
But a second later, Mama Mary loped over and put her arm around him, and Brett turned back to the people gathered at the service.
Chastising herself for being foolish enough to still care for him after the way he’d hurt her, she started the engine and drove toward her house. She didn’t have to worry about Brett. He’d bounce back in the saddle in a day or two and be just fine.
But she had problems of her own.
Not just financial worries, but a no-good husband who she was scared to death of.
Dread filled her as she drove through town and ventured down the side street to the tiny house she’d rented. Her biggest mistake in life was marrying Leo Howard, but she’d been pregnant and on the rebound and had wanted a father for her son.
Leo was no father, though.
Well, at first he’d claimed he was. He’d promised her security and love and a home for her and her little boy.
But as time wore on, she realized Leo had secrets and an agenda of his own.
They hadn’t lived together in over three years, but last night he’d come back to town.
Hopefully he had the divorce papers with him, so she could get him out of her life once and for all.
Mentally ticking off her to-do list, she delivered three quilts she’d custom made from orders taken at the antiques store, Vintage Treasures, where she displayed some of her work. When she’d had Sam, she’d known she had to do something to make a living, and sewing was the only skill she had. She’d learned to make clothes, window treatments and quilts from her grandmother, and now she’d turned it into a business.
She did some grocery shopping, then dropped off the rent check. Earlier, she’d left Sam at her neighbor’s house, hoping to meet with Leo alone.
She pulled in the drive, noting that Leo had parked his beat-up pickup halfway on the lawn, and that he’d run over Sam’s bicycle. Poor Sam. He deserved so much better.
Furious at his carelessness, she threw her Jeep into Park, climbed out and let herself in the house, calling Leo’s name as she walked through the kitchen/living room combination, then down the hall to the bedrooms.
