A Second Chance in the Show Me State - Jessie Gussman Page 0,18

his comment criticizing her.

“Come on. If that’s all your luggage, let’s get out of here.”

His eyes skimmed over her face as he turned, not too fast to miss the brow raised at his brusque tone. What was he supposed to do?

His chest felt tight and small. Too small to contain everything that pitched and rolled inside of it. He wanted to touch her. To throttle her, to run away from her, to hug her with the boys, to wrap his arms around his whole family and have everyone together again.

“Are you hungry?” he threw over his shoulder, taking a quick glance and seeing her walking between their kids, with each boy having an arm around her.

He almost stopped short at the sight of the blissful look on her face. She was feeling exactly what he had been for the last three weeks. It eased some of the pressure he’d been feeling inside, compassion rising up and taking its place.

“No,” she said, her gaze landing on him then bouncing away. Her arms tightened around her kids. “I’m not hungry.”

Dallas had her suitcase, and it rolled behind him.

If this were a normal time and they had a normal relationship, Reid would have offered to carry her shoulder bag. But despite the ring on her finger that matched the one still on his, he probably didn’t even have that right anymore.

It was a long walk to their car. The whole time, he fought the longing to walk beside her, with his own arm around her. To have their boys on either side of them. The way it should have been.

The way it could be still, if you worked at it.

That crazy little voice in his head wouldn’t be quiet. He tried to shush it, because he didn’t want to hear it nor feel the guilt it produced.

She hadn’t looked happy or excited to see him. And he figured whatever had happened between them had irrevocably broken whatever they’d had to begin with.

Chapter 6

Emerson stood at the window watching Reid, her husband—how odd to think of him like that—and her boys walking out to the barn together. Dallas skipped alongside, running and kicking rocks, and just now practicing a handspring. While Houston, more thoughtful, more like her, looked up at Reid and spoke, and Reid looked back down, answering.

Her heart pricked.

It hurt and felt good at the same time. She’d not even known that was possible. On the one hand, looking at the boys that she loved and the man that she’d fallen in love with, and still—much to her dismay—had feelings for, and seeing them together did something to her that she couldn’t even put into words. Gave her her own longing that almost made her need to move, but she wasn’t even sure what she needed to move to do. Just do something.

Suddenly, Reid stopped and seemed to say something to the two boys, gesturing with his hands, before he turned and jogged back to the house.

He’d filled out since she left. He’d been a young man in his twenties, skinny, muscular, and strong, of course, but not like he was now, with the broadened shoulders and confident carriage.

Her eyes tracked him. How could she not admire him?

The door burst open, and he came to a complete and abrupt stop, his eyes landing on her, before looking a little sheepish and taking another step, closing the door behind him.

“I forgot to tell you you don’t have to worry about supper. The boys and I have been making it, and we’ll do it again tonight.”

It was like he didn’t want her to feel at home. Was that it?

Maybe he was just trying to be nice. That was probably it, but the hackles on her neck raised anyway.

“Do you not want me to touch anything in the kitchen?”

His brows shot up. “Um, no.” He lifted his hat and scratched his head. “I just thought you might have things to do. We didn’t really talk about it or anything.”

“Maybe we should have.”

Why was she being such a witch? Maybe because she resented the easy camaraderie he had with the boys, and she felt left out.

He fingered the brim of his hat, almost as though her words had made him uncomfortable. Obviously, he’d never thought about it before. “I guess we could do that...now?”

“That’s probably eight years too late.” She wanted to slap herself. What did that have to do with anything? Why was she being like this?

Because this is where you want to be. Because

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