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“Good night to you too,” she said when the boy had gone.
“Very good,” he said, his voice a little rough, sending a little shiver through her. “Much better than I expected.”
This time he kissed her, leaning in and practically blanking out every rational thought she’d recovered in the last minute. And when she was back home, in front of her wing of the main house, she sat in her car, her forehead resting on the steering wheel, eyes closed, as she relived those moments on his porch.
When she opened her eyes again, it was nearly dark. And she went inside with the certain knowledge that she’d be having one of those dreams tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gobsmacked.
Jackson didn’t know where the word originated, but it was the only one that fit how he felt.
He shifted restlessly on the bed he had, up until now, been sleeping well on. He’d thought he would tonight, as well, after the fun of reading from Jeremy’s favorite book to him again. But here he was, stuck in a morass of tangled thoughts.
For two years he’d never even thought about getting close to another woman. Even though he’d had his instructions from Leah.
If anything happens to one of us, the other needs to move on.
She’d said it after finishing a book that had obviously gotten to her. He’d been scrambling, trying to think of something to reply to the unexpectedly intense comment when the Leah he so loved had emerged, with that impish smile that made him smile back no matter what was going on.
But if you ever do it while I’m still alive, I’ll kill you.
They’d ended up making long, sweet love right there on the sofa she’d been curled up on. He’d thought often of that night and was still convinced that was the night Jeremy had been conceived. Just the memory of her words always caused that pain somewhere down deep, as if it had been physically able to deliver a blow. He waited for the punch.
It didn’t come.
Instead, all he felt was a wistful sadness, not even about how much he missed her, but how much she was missing. She wasn’tseeing Jeremy grow, seeing how much and how fast he was learning.
She couldn’t see the change in him since they’d come here.
But somehow he knew she’d approve. She’d approve of anything that helped their son.
Even Nic?
Because he couldn’t deny she was helping Jeremy. The boy was never more excited than when he was aboard Pie, and more than once he’d paused in his day to watch, and had seen both of them laughing with delight over some leap of progress in his riding.
Nic told me it was okay to be mad about Mom being gone. That she was mad her mom got hurt, ’n’ if she’d died, like my mom did, it’d be a bazillion times worse.
He remembered that evening, when that had come out over a bowl of ice cream before bed. He hadn’t really thought about what else Jeremy and Nic might be talking about in their time together, but he should have. When the boy was actually riding, that was the focus, but there was all that time when he was grooming Pie or cleaning the tack or the pony’s stall, all part of the privilege of riding, according to the Nicole Baylor method. All that time to talk about... anything. Which they apparently did.
She said when she got really sad about her mom never being able to walk again, she’d ride out to one of her favorite places. An’ just stay there, looking, until she felt better.
He understood that. Leah would have understood that.
Would she have understood that kiss?
If anything happens to one of us, the other needs to move on.
Maybe. Maybe she would have understood. Even approve. Because anyone who could make Jeremy happy the way Nic did, especially now, would be okay in Leah’s book.
“I’ll never stop loving you, Leah,” he murmured into the darkness, as if he felt like he had to reassure her. Why? Because of that kiss?
Or because that kiss was just the first step? The first step on a path he’d never thought he’d walk again...
He rolled over, giving the pillow beneath his head a solid punch. The constant ache of losing Leah had become part of him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it easing. Guilty, perhaps. Did it belittle what they’d had if he did what she’d said and moved on? Or was he a beaten, helpless washout who couldn’t function at all without the woman who had been his support, who had kept him sane in a crazy world?
When he finally fell asleep, it was to dream of Leah as he often did, yet this dream was different. It began, as usual, with something entirely unrelated, something about being in Last Stand in the old days, just after the battle. But then, dressed for the period, Leah appeared. She was farther away than usual, and the image of her was a bit fuzzy around the edges. He felt Jeremy’s hand in his, but couldn’t tear his gaze away to look at him.
