the table. My old man couldn’t care less if his kids eat. All he cares about is where he’s getting his next drunk, you know?”
She nodded, realizing she was being whiny and selfish. She’d seen the bruises on Kane and Rian, knew that their home life was worse off than they liked anyone to know. Her daddy worked harder than anyone she knew just to keep them afloat and here she was crying like a slapped baby because he’d left her behind. She braved a smile for Kane, which wasn’t hard because he created sunshine in her soul, and asked playfully, “Kane Dalton, you always know just what to say. What’s your secret?”
The blue of his eyes darkened as he ducked his head briefly before returning to her gaze, nothing boylike in that stare as he answered with an honesty that rang in her soul like crashing bells. “No secret, Laci-girl. Just tellin’ it like it is. I would never lie to you, that’s the God’s honest truth. I never would.”
And then he kissed her.
Sweet, simple, perfect.
Laci opened her eyes, still lost in the reminiscence that’d come out of nowhere. The lingering scent of hay and summer heat remained lodged in her nostrils as the memory of her first kiss blazed through her thoughts and occupied every nook and cranny of her mind.
Kane Dalton.
Where are you, country boy?
The sting of loss pricked at her tender heart and she pushed away the feelings that came with the memory of Kane and those sweltering summers spent at the Bradford ranch together. He’d left her behind, up and went into the military without so much as a goodbye or an explanation of why. He couldn’t have sent a clearer message than if he’d tattooed it on her face that she was part of his past and definitely not part of his future.
Well, screw him. Why the hell was she thinking about Kane now? There were plenty of years between that heartache and today and she wasn’t going to drag herself down with the memory of that pain.
But one thing she did know—as she eased the IV needle from her arm with a wince—she wasn’t going to lie around in this bed a minute longer, just waiting for Trent to waltz back in and prop her up onstage again when she wasn’t ready to go back. Tossing the tubing aside, she kicked free from the white, sterile bedding and stood on wobbly feet to search out her clothes.
Oh, damn. Laci grimaced when she realized her glittering costume was all she had in the room, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from getting the hell out of Dodge for a while. Well, it is what it is, she thought, grabbing her costume and shimmying into it with a groan as it pinched and scratched. Bypassing her heels, she left her room, bold as you please, ignoring the concerned looks and puzzled glances from the nurses’ station, and walked right out the door.
KANE’S RENTED TRUCK kicked up dirt as he drove the familiar road to the Bradford ranch, breathing in the sweet smell of untamed earth and summer sun as a reluctant smile found his lips. He’d forgotten how good summer smelled in the South. There was something about the way a Kentucky summer reached into the soul and plucked a tune, even if he wasn’t open to listening. He hated Woodsville, but he had to admit, Kentucky was in his blood, even if he ran from it every single day of his life.
It was too easy to remember those wretched years as a boy, too young to avoid the beatings and too weak to prevent them, that made the breath catch in his throat and his shoulders tense. Dale Dalton was a rotten son of a bitch with a worse temper, and Kane hoped he was burning in hell for all the terror and misery he’d inflicted on his two sons. Frankly, Kane thought the old man had died too easy—a heart attack was too quick, over in a flash. Kane had been hoping for a slow, lingering cancer to eat Dale from the inside out, but no such luck. The lucky bastard had checked out with a single zap to the electrical system and it was lights out, sayonara.
The Bradford ranch came into view, an older ranch-style home with a generous wraparound porch and views of the green rolling hills and valleys carved by the river that snaked its way through Warren’s six-hundred-plus-acre property. Beech trees dotted the countryside and made for picturesque landscape, as well as created blessed shade that was much appreciated when the humidity was hard to escape.
He rolled to a stop in the driveway and walked into the house, calling for Warren or Cora as he went.
Cora, in the kitchen as always, smiled big and welcoming as she ushered him into her frail arms, hugging him as tightly as she was able. “You’ve lost too much weight,” she exclaimed as if she weren’t the one looking as if a stiff wind might knock her over. “Just look at you, you’re wasting away to nothing. You need to find a good woman who can fatten you up with some good ol’-fashioned home cooking.”
“I’m not the one wasting away,” he countered, concerned at how small and fragile Cora appeared since the last time he’d seen her two years ago. Sudden tears pricked his eyes and he blinked them back, unprepared for the emotional wallop at seeing Cora so diminished. “What’s the doc saying?”
Cora waved away his question and said, “No talk of doctors or medicine. I’ve had enough of that nonsense. I want to hear about you and Rian. How’s that fancy new business going for you? Tell me all about it while I cut up a piece of pie. Peach still your favorite?” She knew it was, the crafty old girl. He nodded and she beamed, pulling a freshly baked peach pie from the oven, where she’d probably hidden it from Warren. “Ice cream?”
“The pie is good for me,” he said, not wanting to put Cora into further motion on his account. Slaving away in the kitchen was the last place she needed to be, but he knew from experience that Cora took orders from no one, not even if it was to protect her declining health. He took a dutiful bite under her watchful eye and there was no need to fake a reaction because it was heaven on a fork. “God, Cora, this is the best damn pie I’ve ever tasted.”
She swatted him lightly on the head with a sharp “Watch your mouth,” but she smiled as she slid into the chair opposite him. “Glad you like it. Too bad Rian couldn’t come with you. I miss him just as much.”
“I know, but someone’s got to hold down the fort while I’m here,” he said regretfully, but after seeing Cora’s condition, he wondered if he ought to have Rian meet him there for when Cora and Warren returned from out of state. “Tell me about this special treatment you’re gonna have.”
Cora, her soft little hands wreathed with faint blue lines, fidgeted as she shrugged. “Warren’s got it in his head that it’s gonna make a difference, but sometimes you have to accept that when your time is up, it’s up. There’s grace in that, you know. But he wants me to go, so I will because he’s a good man and an even better husband, but I want to spend what time I have left right here on the ranch. I have my vegetable garden and the animals and that’s enough for me.”
Kane swallowed the sharp lump in his throat that clogged his airway. He’d known Cora and Warren since he was a mangy, starving fifteen-year-old looking for summer work, but they’d become his only family. If something happened to Cora...hell, he just couldn’t bear it. He understood Warren’s insistence to try anything, even if sounded crazy, if it meant Cora might pull through this medical nightmare. “Pardon my language, Miss Cora, but that’s bullshit. Don’t be giving up on a cure. If Warren thinks there’s a shot, you gotta take it because there’s no one on this planet who can make a blue-ribbon-quality peach pie like you, ma’am, and that’s the honest truth.”
It was more than the pie and Cora knew it, but it made her smile just the same and her smile was worth a million bucks in Kane’s opinion. He finished the pie like a good boy, even scraping up the crumbs, just as Warren walked in from the fields, covered in dirt and smelling like a pasture.
Kane rose respectfully and clasped the older man’s hand, relieved to find it strong as ever in spite of the fact that he was nearing eighty. “Kane, you’re looking good, boy,” Warren said, smiling. “Any trouble getting the time off?”
“No trouble, sir. Happy to help.”