bus tomorrow. If you delay, Ma will get attached. She looks strong, but she’s fragile, especially this time of year.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gone tomorrow. I’m definitely not staying for the holidays.”
Though how she wished, just once, that she could give Javi a real Christmas.
“Her heart’s been broken too many times by...”
“Jesse,” she murmured.
When James averted his face, the firm cut of his jaw drew her eye. A day’s worth of dark stubble shaded it, giving him a dangerous edge, yet she also sensed a profound loneliness in him that echoed her own. There was nothing worse than feeling alone in crowds of people. He’d held himself back during the boisterous family dinner, his vigilant eyes rarely straying from his mother. He wanted to protect her, and Sofia admired his determination, especially since she was equally resolute in shielding her son.
Wind chimes jangled from a corner of the porch, their silvery notes shivering on the breeze. “Jesse caused Ma a lot of pain. Still does.”
“You love your mother a lot.”
“She’s the greatest person I know.”
Sofia ached at his simple, heartfelt declaration. All her life she’d wished for a mother to love and knew she’d have been just as protective and loyal as James. “Jesse’s addiction must have been hard on her.”
He turned and his dark eyes glimmered in the gloom. “Were you an addict, too?”
“Jesse and I got clean together.”
And when he relapsed, you kicked him out. You never gave him the support you should have.
“How long have you been sober?”
“Six years.” Did he think her a closet junkie bent on taking advantage of his family?
Her throat tightened at his possible bad opinion, though why it mattered, she hadn’t a clue. Nearly everyone she’d ever met assumed the worst, so why would James be different?
Maybe the reason stemmed from her long-held wish for Javi to be a part of Cade Ranch, a world she never got to experience: one full of strong values and family, where he’d be safe and secure—even if she slipped again. Every night, she told him Rocky Mountain cowboys’ bedtime stories, describing legendary men to make him proud of his dad.
And now James’s suspicious manner made her want to flee. He reminded her of who she was, not who she wanted to become.
“No relapses?” he pressed.
“Nope.” She forced a pained smile and spoke through her clenched teeth. “See. Not rotting. I’m not a meth head.”
“What about your arms?”
She extended one, and he slid her sleeve up over her elbow to peer at her track lines, scars that disfigured her, showed the world the ugliness that lurked within.
A shivery tremble began in her lower stomach as his calloused fingers grazed her marks. His gaze lifted and locked with hers. Instead of the disgust she expected, his face fell. A crazy urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him up seized her.
“Seen enough?” Her voice broke.
When he didn’t answer, she shoved up the other sleeve and extended the scarred underside of her elbow.
“Enough.” He lifted his hands, then dropped them, backing away, looking slightly stunned.
“They’re not fresh,” she insisted, shaking inside.
His chest rose and fell with the force of his sigh. “But you were with Jesse when he relapsed.”
“Yes,” she answered fast, relieved to get past this awkward moment of physical awareness.
“Were you friends with his dealer?”
A bitter laugh escaped her as she pictured her neighborhood’s thugs. “Hardly.”
“But you knew them.” He looked her dead in the eye, and she nodded, unable to hold in the truth at the anguish she glimpsed in their depths.
“Did you know Jesse’s murderers?”
“Of course not. I was raising a child.” And trying, trying, trying to move on with her life. Guilt flashed inside over how she’d had to push Jesse away to do that. If she’d stuck by him, been stronger for him, would he be alive today?
James studied her and the stern planes of his face softened. “Heroin ruined Jesse’s life.” His voice seemed to vibrate across the short space between them, bending the frigid night air, making her insides jump. “I won’t have anyone associated with drugs here at the ranch.”
The old, familiar shame of being an addict, a felon, a homeless teenager and single mother dredged through her. It raked over her hopes to become something more.
“My addiction cost me my dreams. Single-parenting added another challenge,” she divulged. “But I’m going to make something of myself and have a fresh start.” One she delayed every minute spent in Carbondale. She needed to begin again where no one knew the bad in her.
“I hope you do.”
“I’ll leave once I find my wallet. A couple of the places I wanted to check yesterday evening were closed. I’ll visit them first thing tomorrow.”
“And I’ll accompany you after I’ve finished my chores.”
“What? Why?!”
“To help you get that fresh start.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, a faint dimple denting his left cheek like an innocent child’s memory. “Good night, Sofia,” he said, his voice a deep rumble between them. Then he turned, trotted down the stairs and strode toward one of the cabins.
She watched his large frame stalk across the snowy field, unsure whether to call the Cades friends or foe.
Certainly not family, as much as she wished otherwise.
Joy wasn’t the only one in danger of getting her heart broken. Sofia could fall for this warmhearted clan—minus haunted, brooding James—as quickly and painfully as she had for Jesse. Hopefully, she’d find her wallet tomorrow and be on her way before any real damage was done.
JAMES SLUGGED A hot draw of black coffee the next afternoon and set the thermos in his truck’s cup holder. A boot-stomping country-rock tune blared from his sound system and Sofia perched beside him, her arms hugging her knees to her chest.
Sofia sang softly, a low sound he found himself straining to hear. They were lyrics to a familiar song that she nearly had right...
“It’s ‘beat boys,’” he corrected, mouth curling, unable to stop himself. An annoyed breath of air escaped him. After spending too much time dwelling on the strange effect the feel of Sofia’s scars had on him, he’d vowed to interact as little as possible with her today.
“And feet off the seat, please.” He angled his head side to side, working the kinks that’d formed in his neck after another sleepless night. Layered brown, tan and beige mesas flashed by his window, rising above the white-banked Colorado river that followed alongside I-70. The hum of his tires, eating up the miles to Carbondale, were a bass note accompaniment to the thumping tune.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the swing of Sofia’s thick black hair as she dropped her feet to the mat and twisted around to face him. “It’s the Beach Boys. You know? Like the group?”
“Might have heard of them,” he drawled, biting back a grin. “But the lyrics are ‘beat boys.’”
“Uh-uh. Listen again.” She restarted the song and then sang “Beach Boys” on the chorus.