bites.”
“Then she’ll start biting her sisters like royalty,” Brent drawled, stopping in the doorway to admire Trace.
“She will, but hopefully only biscuits.” Trace kissed Daisy’s head and put her in the playpen, then came to kiss him.
“Mmm. We did good last night.” He slid an arm around Trace’s waist.
“We did better than good, cowboy.”
“Mmm.” He kissed right under Trace’s ear, loving that little shiver, the soft little moan.
Daisy waved and stood at the edge of her baby cage, making insistent noises until he laughed and went to her. “Hey, baby girl. How are you this morning, huh?”
“Daddy! Daddy!” She grinned at him, waving her cookie.
“That’s me.” He kissed her head too before making his way to the coffeepot.
“Biscuits are in the oven. The guys are feeding, so breakfast will be in twenty.”
“Do I need to feed the dogs?” The oven light was on, so he peered in. “You did make double.”
“I’ll make chicken gravy and honey butter, so I thought biscuits would be the thing.” Trace was good to him.
“Have you seen Curly?” Brent didn’t see Curly, and that was bad. The kids and Trace were all in the kitchen, but where was the old cowboy?
“I haven’t, no. He hasn’t come back up yet.” Trace had his hands full with the baby. “You want me to go look?”
“No. No, I’ll go.” It was time for Curly to settle for a bit. Take his pills.
Curly wasn’t still. Not ever. So he couldn’t hardly fuss at Trace, who had come to watch Curly and now had all the kids.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. We’ll be up in a few.”
“Okay, babe.” Trace hummed, rocking Daisy on one hip.
He headed to the barn, hunting Curly, and Brent hurried up when he realized no one else was out there. No Hal or Jesus.
He texted Hal real quick, curious to where everyone had got up to.
Huh.
He called Trace, moving toward the bunkhouse in a hurry. “Check the house. I’m going down to the bunk.”
“On it.” Trace started moving fast. He could hear the hard breathing. “I’m going to hang up. I can’t watch babies, talk to you, and look for him.”
“Holler if you find him.” He hung up. “Curly? Are you down here, man?”
He didn’t smell smoke, but he thought he heard a sniffle, a sob.
“Curly? Buddy, is that you?” He checked the kitchen, then the main room. He found the man in the communal bathroom, staring at himself in the cracked mirror, tears rolling down his face.
Shit.
“Hey. Hey, Curly. What’s going on?”
“I…” Curly met his eyes. “I need to shave.”
“Okay. I got you an electric razor, so maybe we can use that?”
Thank God, Curly hadn’t used the old straight razor like he had since Brent was a little boy. He would have cut his damn face off. As soon as he got Curly back up to the house, he would come find it and hide it up in his room.
“Come on, buddy. I have a better sink up at the house.” He needed to figure a way to move Curly up to the house. He had to.
“Yeah?” Curly turned to look at him. “I didn’t mean to get old on you, son.”
“The alternative is worse, huh? Let’s get you dressed.” He smiled at the man who was the one permanent thing in his life. His parents had come and gone, friends, lovers, horses—but Curly had always been there, steady and sure.
“Am I undressed?” Curly looked down at himself and frowned. “I was at the barn with Hal.”
“Yeah, that was last night, I bet. Hal’s run to the feed store.” Goddamn it. He hated this shit. “Trace is making breakfast. You hungry?”
“I am.” Curly’s belly rumbled, which made them both laugh. “Lemme get clothes on.” Curly looked at him, uncertainty lurking. “You think I could be lazy and wear sweats today? Just lounge with the kids?”
“I bet Trace would love that. He needs help with the babies, and you know they love you to death, especially little Suzy.” He’d text Trace and bring up some clothes for Curly. They’d figure it. They had to.
“Thanks, son. I feel poorly today.”
“No worries. Let’s pack a little backpack for you, and you can come up and stay for a couple of days.” He texted Trace, warning him that they were on their way. “Lord, these storms. I’m so ready for them to stop. They make Trace all tense.”
“Everyone is all cooped up. Kids and