Rafe smiled. “You don’t have to say anything. We want to do this. If not for you, Little Jeff might not even be here.”
Tears welled in Jeff’s eyes. For the love of God, he’d gotten through thirty years of lockdown without shedding a tear, but give him his new family, and he became the damned waterworks.
“I’m honored. Truly. Thank you. Both of you.”
Angie smiled. “Would you like to hold your namesake?”
His heart warmed. “Yes. Yes, I’d love to.”
As Rafe took the warm bundle from Angie and placed him in Jeff’s arms, a new emotion crept into Jeff’s heart. My grandson. The child was beautiful with a big head of dark hair and dark blue eyes. When those eyes opened and gazed at Jeff, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would do anything for this child. All the love and devotion he should have been able to lavish on Angie—and that his brother had lavished on her in his absence—he would lavish on Little Jeff. He’d be there for this one. Little Jeff’s grandpa might not be able to lavish money on him like Wayne had for Angie, but Little Jeff would not lack for love.
I promise you, he said silently to his grandson. I promise you everything.
* * *
A few days later, back at the ranch, Jeff was currying a horse when the wild berries and vanilla wafted to his nose. He turned.
Mia.
She was a vision. Her onyx hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she wore a simple pair of jeans and a blue-and-white checkered shirt. Her ruby-red lips w
ere curved upward in a slow smile.
“Hello, Jeff.”
He couldn’t hold back his smile. His grandson, Little Jeff, had melted away the last remaining ice around his heart.
Mia’s red lips curved upward. “You’re smiling.” Her eyes misted, and she sniffed. “That’s a real smile. You’re just as handsome as you were thirty years ago. Dear God, I thought I’d never see your smile again.”
Jeff warmed. Had he truly not smiled at Mia before now? How could he explain it to her or to himself? He couldn’t, so he simply said, “He’s beautiful, isn’t he, Mia?”
Maria wiped at her eyes. “Yes, he sure is. Just as beautiful as Angie was when she was born.”
No resentment whirled through him. Not one tiny ounce. He had let his anger at Maria dissipate a while ago, but he’d held on to a shred of it toward his dead brother. Now, he felt only gratitude toward him for taking care of Maria and Angie when he couldn’t. He had to be honest with himself. Wayne had given them both more than he could have. Even if he hadn’t lied and made a confession, he most likely would have done some time anyway, though not the thirty years he did.
He’d seen photos of Angie as a child, but he’d resisted giving more than a cursory view of all the albums. He was afraid it would hurt too much. Now, he was ready. Maybe he had some more smiles in him. “I’d like to see the pictures, Mia.”
Her smile spread across her mouth and lit up her beautiful face. “Really, Jeff?” She threw her arms around him and whispered in his ear, “Thank God. I want you to see all the pictures of her, how beautiful she was, how talented.” She backed away, continuing to chatter. “She was the youngest rodeo queen ever crowned in Bakersville, just a few days over eighteen. And so bright. Her IQ is genius level.” She tugged at his arm. “Are you done here? Let’s go to the house now. Let’s look at all the photos together.”
He nodded and put away the currycomb. “I’m done. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.”
The muscles in his arm jerked, tried to move on their own, to take Maria’s smaller hand in his. Yet he held back. Still. No more resentment, but he wasn’t a whole man. He feared he would never be. And he wasn’t ready to give himself to anyone, not even his Mia.
Especially not his Mia.
“You can stay for supper,” she was saying as he followed her out of the barn. “I’m making lasagna. It’s already in the oven. And after dinner we’ll have a glass of port and pore over all the photos together.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.”
* * *
Thirty-Three Years Earlier
Jeff was happy.
God damn, so that’s what the stupid emotion felt like. Across the table, Mia ate her hamburger slowly, her silky neck reddening when some meat juices slid down her chin. She hastily grabbed the napkin from her lap and dabbed at them. Her gaze met his, and then she quickly looked away. How cute. She was embarrassed. He wanted to say something, anything—that he couldn’t care less how much food dripped down her chin, but that would embarrass her more.
No, he was satisfied just to look at her and think about how happy he felt just being with her. Never had he felt so good just sitting at the diner with a girl. Never had he actually contemplated—
Damn, can I really go there?