Ace High (Lost Creek Rodeo #6) - Heather B. Moore Page 0,8

looked at her phone, then broke off, and stood. “I need to go.”

Lars was alerted to the urgency in her tone. He stood as well. “I can take you,” he said before anyone else could offer. It made sense, anyway. Kellie’s was on the way to Ryan’s, where he was staying.

She looked relieved, but still worried.

Ford’s brow creased. “Everything okay, Kells?”

“Fine,” she said in a breathless voice. “Or it will be.”

She didn’t offer anything more, but headed away from the fire circle. “Have a good night, everyone. See y’all for dinner tomorrow.” She didn’t wait to hear any goodbyes or more questions.

She was halfway to his truck before Lars caught up with her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Kellie didn’t slow her step. “It’s Mallory. She’s having some sort of meltdown. Robyn sent me a text.”

He remembered Robyn. A mid-fifties woman who was cheerful but had something sadder behind her eyes. During one of the meals Lars and Ryan had shared with the women, Robyn had mentioned something about losing a daughter to cancer.

Lars couldn’t even imagine the hardships Robyn had endured. He strode ahead of Kellie and opened the truck’s passenger door for her.

She murmured a “thank you,” but it was clear her mind was elsewhere.

As Lars climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, he hoped Mallory would be okay. He only knew she’d battled some sort of addiction, although Kellie had said it wasn’t substance abuse. Frankly, Lars wasn’t going to judge anyone in that way. He was at the ranch to help wherever and whenever he could.

Kellie stayed quiet as he drove, her hands clenched together in her lap. He wanted to somehow comfort her, but what could he say? He knew nothing about what Mallory was dealing with, and Kellie was the licensed therapist, not him.

But he hated to see her so worried. It wasn’t like he could grab her hand—he didn’t want to shock her or put her in a defensive mood.

So when they pulled up to the ranch house, he said, “Should I wait out here? Come in? What’s best?”

Kellie blinked, seeming to come out of her deep thoughts. “Can you … uh … wait on the porch, maybe? In case …” She didn’t finish, but opened the door and hurried to the house.

Lars did as Kellie requested. He stopped at the porch and leaned against the railing, waiting in case he was needed for something.

All seemed quiet inside the house, even though several lights were on. After a while, he paced the porch, needing to expend some energy.

When the door creaked open, he turned.

Robyn stood there in a baggy T-shirt and black leggings. “Lars, can you talk to Mallory? She’s inconsolable, and nothing Kellie is saying has helped.”

Lars’s pulse stuttered, and he swallowed. “Me? Are you sure? Did Kellie ask for me?”

“Not exactly,” Robyn said. “But Mallory keeps … well, she keeps mentioning your name. I can’t quite understand what she’s saying because she’s crying so hard. But maybe it would be good for you to talk to her.”

Lars held very still. He didn’t know what this was. He’d never been in this situation before. But if he could help, well, he was gonna help.

Robyn held the door open, and Lars stepped through. He was surprised to see the other women all sitting in the front room, arms folded, or legs pulled up on the couches. And then he heard it.

Crying, or more like wailing.

His heart plummeted. This was not … He was not …

But Robyn’s brown eyes implored him, and well, it was hard to turn down a woman asking for help.

“Where is she?”

“This way.” Robyn led him along the hallway, and the crying grew louder.

It took a great deal of effort for Lars to continue down the hallway, and truth be told, he was only doing it because he knew Kellie was at the end of it. Dealing with a sobbing woman. At her wits’ end. And Lars couldn’t stand the thought of Kellie not having any help. Although what could he do?

He didn’t have time to think about that—instinct would have to do.

Robyn stopped in front of a narrow door, which Lars suspected was a closet.

“She won’t come out,” Robyn whispered.

Lars barely heard her above the crying. He looked from her to the closed door. “Should I knock?”

Robyn shrugged, then patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Back down the hall.

Lars’s throat felt as dry as Texas dust. He raised a hand and tapped on the door. “Mallory?” he