Have Mercy - Christina Lee Page 0,4

blown to pieces by a roadside bomb. Some heavy shit. Damn, the guy had probably seen more than he ever wanted to in his lifetime. Anything I’d ever done—which mostly consisted of rounding up cattle on horseback at the Carmichael Ranch—would pale in comparison.

“Besides, he’s family,” Sienna added, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I shrugged. I supposed I would always consider the North family relatives, even if it wasn’t by blood nor law, not anymore. I had known Sienna my whole life, and she was definitely still considered family by my parents and siblings, even after our divorce. Besides, our daughter tied us all together, and I’d never have it any other way. She was the most important person in the world to me and always would be.

“Tell Julian he’s more than welcome.” The North family might’ve lived clear across the country, but Aunt Melinda had been raised in this town, even if she decided not to leave roots. Guess I don’t blame her. But looking out the barn door at the line of cottonwood trees just beyond the horse paddock, I acknowledged that despite everything, Wyoming was in my blood, and I’d be just as lost as Julian if I was ever forced to leave—not that Julian was forced, but his injuries had sidelined him for good. At least that was the way I’d heard it.

“Gonna take care of the chickens, so holler if you need me,” I said, padding toward the door. “C’mon, Phoebe.”

Phoebe was our pink pig, and when she waddled after me, I knew Hamlet, Phoebe’s counterpart in everything but coloring—he was a deep ebony—wouldn’t be too far behind.

I could almost hear my brother Hunter’s voice in my head. What does anyone want with a couple of useless pigs?

But taking in the litter runts from another farm last year had been the right decision for us, and they had become part of our family.

I stepped inside the coop and sprinkled feed for the chickens, still thinking about my brother and his little digs. My hand closed into a fist as I remembered the argument that’d broken out around the dinner table after I’d come out to my family three years ago. By that time, Sienna and I had already turned a hundred acres of the ranch into Firefly Farm, which Hunter thought was pretty useless too. Raising cows, goats, and chickens wasn’t “real man’s work” to him, and then hearing we’d taken in rehabbed horses and sometimes entertained kids and families with a makeshift petting zoo in the summers had sent his head spinning.

So breaking the news that I was gay and Sienna was divorcing me was only icing on the cake.

“You’re a regular black sheep of the family,” Hunter had said under his breath.

Sienna always complained I was too passive, that I needed to finally have it out with my jackass brother, but it wasn’t in my nature. I’d learned over the years to keep my storm of emotions neatly tucked inside. Like if I let it all out, I might fall apart at the seams.

My mother and Travis had been stunned at the news I’d delivered like a wallop and sat motionless across the table, staring at me.

“How could this happen?” Mom had asked, as if it were something that had befallen me, like the cancer my daughter had been diagnosed with only a couple of months later.

Damn, the guilt of it, as if my confession had somehow caused it, still ate away at me.

“I was born this way, Mom,” I had responded, knowing it would be a foreign concept to her. Definitely not what they’d taught us in church on Sundays.

My father’s eyes had narrowed in frustration. “Nonsense.”

Hunter had trouble meeting my eye, his face all twisted, which didn’t help our already rocky relationship. We were just too different and always had been. I was closer to Travis, but I was the oldest son and had more riding on my shoulders when it came to my parents’ expectations. Travis and Hunter would probably die with the ranch, but I had always wanted out, and the idea likely went along with how stifled I’d felt about my sexuality.

I had been living a lie and thought I could pull it off, that I could ignore that shameful part of myself forever. I’d been slowly dying inside, but I couldn’t disappoint Sienna, not after we’d had what others called a fairy-tale wedding right out of high school. Christ, we were so young. Too young. But I