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Becoming a father was not something Reid Hardell had ever imagined for himself, especially twelve years after the fact.
The social worker’s voice echoed in his ear. Mr. Hardell, I realize this situation caught you by surprise, but you’re the only family Jessie has left.
Family.
His stomach churned as the word reverberated inside his head.
At half past midnight, he flipped on the blinker and took the exit for Stampede. He could only imagine the looks on the faces of his grandfather and brothers when Reid introduced them to his daughter. He should have warned the family that he was returning home to Texas and why, but he’d barely kept in touch with them since entering the military after high school.
Reid had always felt like an outsider in his family and had never figured out why his father had come down harder on him than his two brothers. His jaw tightened at the memory of the old man shoving him to the ground, then kicking dirt in his face, after Reid had asked for the keys to his truck so he could take a girl to the movies. Later that night his older brother, Logan, had driven off in the pickup with his friends.
When Reid’s enlistment in the marines was up, he hadn’t returned to Paradise Ranch. Instead, he’d chosen to settle in Albuquerque. It hadn’t made sense to go back to a place which held few good memories.
He glanced across the seat at his daughter—the reason Reid was making this trip. Six months had passed since he’d met Jessie in September, but her name still rolled off his tongue like a boulder. He was floundering in his role as her dad and he was looking to his siblings to help him navigate fatherhood.
Any day now Reid’s younger brother, Gunner, was going to become a first-time father and Logan had recently married a single mother with twin boys. Surely they could give him a few pointers on parenting.
Reid’s gaze shifted to the urn propped on the seat next to Jessie. Her mother was making the eight-hour drive with them from El Paso to Stampede, an hour south of San Antonio. He’d suggested spreading the ashes before they’d left Jessie’s foster home, but she hadn’t been ready to say goodbye to her mother. He understood. Sort of.
His father’s sudden death had cheated him out having the last word. A few weeks after Reid left for boot camp, a hit-and-run driver had killed Donny Hardell while he changed a flat tire on the side of the road. Reid remembered the phone call from his grandfather as if it had happened yesterday. First, Reid had been numb with shock, then he’d felt weightless—as if the heavy sensation resting on his chest most of his life had broken apart and vanished. His grandfather hadn’t revealed the funeral arrangements and Reid hadn’t asked. They both knew he wouldn’t be paying his respects to a man who’d treated him with contempt.
His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, where the corner of the glass displayed the outside temperature—fifty-nine degrees. Typical mid-March weather in the Lone Star State. He set the cruise control and lifted his aching foot from the gas pedal. He should have removed his cowboy boots and put on his athletic shoes earlier in the day, but each time they’d stopped for a break, Reid had been distracted. Twice the dog had bolted from the truck when Jessie opened the door and they’d had to capture him. Then Jessie had asked for a snack from a vending machine that ate her money. And the bathrooms at two of the rest stops had been out of order, requiring a detour.
Soft snoring sounds drifted into his ear and he glanced into the back seat. Fang slept soundly in the dog bed on top of the luggage. The five-year-old shorthaired golden Chihuahua with half its teeth missing had belonged to the Valentines—the elderly foster parents who’d taken Jessie in after Stacy died. According to the couple, Fang and Jessie had a special bond, which Reid had witnessed when the mutt escaped the yard and chased his pickup down the street after they’d driven off earlier in the day. When they’d returned the dog to its owners, Jessie had begun crying and then so did Mrs. Valentine. Finally, Mr. Valentine shoved the mutt into Reid’s arms and said, “He’s Jessie’s now.”
The three of them were an unlikely family, but... Reid lost his thought when the word family reverberated inside his head again. The Hardells had been no more or no less dysfunctional than most families but Reid had decided in the military that he’d never marry or have kids. He didn’t want to be a dad. After the way his father had treated him, he had no idea how to nurture a kid’s mental or emotional well-being.
So much for the promise you made yourself.
Reid gripped the wheel tighter as he drove past his family’s rural property. He had tried to earn his father’s approval by showing an interest in his dad’s hobby—working on car engines. All he’d gotten for his efforts had been a dressing-down. Reid had developed a real aptitude for