The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,47

brush from the tack hanger on the wall and steps into Priscilla’s stall. She holds the brush in the air and looks at me. “May I?”

I nod, remembering the night we spent together and the few things she’d revealed to me about feeling guilty for being away from her parents. She brushes the horse using slow, rhythmic strokes. I’m about to tell her I get the feeling she has spent time around horses when she starts talking again.

“My dad was so strict that I left home at eighteen.” Her gaze flickers over me. “I still went to college, but I lived with friends. I loved my parents, but I just couldn’t handle how tightly he tried to hold on to me. The more I wanted freedom, the less inclined he was to give it. It broke my mom’s heart when I left, but they were a package deal, and I just wanted out. I did my own thing for a long time, only seeing them every so often. The longer I was gone, the harder it was to return.” She meets my eyes, then resumes grooming. “Eventually I met you, and a few days later, I went home. I decided it was time to get my shit together and be a real daughter.” Tears shine in her eyes. “But I never got to, not really. I showed up to find my mom had suffered an aneurysm two days prior, and she was never the same again. I cut all ties to the life I was living, and moved back home to take care of her. As much as I could, anyway. I wanted so badly to make up for what I did to her.” She looks up at me. “Did you know stress can contribute to aneurysms?” She shakes her head sadly. “Well, I managed to give her plenty of stress.”

“It’s not your fault that happened to her.” I can see the regret assailing her, and I wish I could take it away.

She gives me a sad look. “You don’t know that.”

“I’m about as certain you didn’t cause it as you are that you did.”

She frowns at me, but I see gratefulness in her eyes. “How about you, Wes?”

“What about me?”

She replaces the brush on the tack hanger and steps from the stall, closing it behind her. “What’s in here”—she taps lightly on the center of my chest—“that’s giving you so much trouble?”

My mouth goes dry. My weight shifts. “Nothing,” I say, my voice like sandpaper.

Her eyes fall.

I have the overwhelming urge to tell her, to split open my chest and release all the painful memories. “Dakota, I—”

“Wes!” Wyatt runs in. His eyes are terrified. “It’s Dad. He… he just…” He shakes his head, lowering his hands to his knees and sucking in a deep breath. “He was playing catch with the kids and he said he wasn’t feeling well. He sat down on the couch and then he fell over. Wes, he fucking fell over.”

Fear grips me instantly, but I make it a point to remain calm as I walk over to Wyatt. An emergency situation is hindered by hysteria. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I lift him until he’s standing upright. His eyes are wide and his skin is flushed. It reminds me of when he was six and terrified of how quiet the ranch was at night. Mom had to put a sound machine in his room to soothe him.

“Has anybody called 911?” I ask.

“Warner did. Mom was still on the phone with the operator when I left to run over here.” Wyatt looks at me with pleading eyes. He needs me to be the big brother, to assure him Dad will be fine.

And that’s exactly what I do. “Dad is too ornery to die, Wyatt, okay? So don’t go worrying about that. It might even be extreme heartburn. That can sometimes mimic the signs of a heart attack.” My own chest is tightening up right now, just thinking of a life without my dad. But I won’t allow myself to think that way.

Wyatt nods, more composed now. “Okay, yeah.”

I turn my brother around. “Let’s go.” I start off in a steady jog toward the homestead. I look over my shoulder when I get closer and only see Wyatt behind me. I glance left and catch sight of Dakota’s figure in the diminishing light. She’s going toward her car.

I yell her name and she looks at me. “I’ll be here,” she yells back, pointing at her