Page 27 of SEAL of Valor

“She let you have it then?” I figured as much. Reese has always had a bit of a temper. With how shocked she was that I’m living and working here at the ranch, I assumed Vivian hadn’t told her.

“She did.”

“Did you tell her⁠—”

“That, I didn’t get to,” she interrupts. “Maybe someday, but yesterday was not the day. Coffee?” She asks after pulling two mugs down.

“Yes, please.” I spent another night not sleeping, so caffeine is going to be the only way I get through the day. Especially if Reese wakes up before I’ve had the chance to finish business here and leave.

“Here you go, Sugar.” She carries over two mugs and sets them both on the dining room table before taking her seat.

I sit to her left, then set my notebook and planner on the white lace tablecloth. Normally, our meetings are quick and to the point, but words are failing me this morning.

“You doing okay?” she asks, clearly looking for a conversation I’m not willing to have.

“Yeah. Fine.” I refuse to look over at Vivian as I open my planner.

“Weston Hayes, I have known you most of your life. And for most of those years, you’ve been like a son to me.” She reaches over and covers my hand with her soft, slightly wrinkled one. “What’s on your mind?”

“Why did you let me come back?” The words are out of my mouth before I can filter them. I can’t help it, though. It’s been burning a hole in my brain since I climbed into bed just after two this morning.

“After you got out of the Navy?”

“Yes. You have to know that Reese left because of me. So why let me come back?”

Her expression softens. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

I think back, trying to pinpoint the day. Truthfully, I have no idea. One day, she was just there, living in the house I’d grown up in. “It’s all a bit of a blur.”

“Well, that’s okay, because I do. Hal and I had just moved into the house. I’d come out onto the back porch that first evening and saw a small lantern flickering in the old treehouse out back.”

The memory comes flooding back, hitting me like a dagger to the chest. “Violet had been upset.” She’d been devastated, really. Her entire world had been turned upside down, and she had no idea why.

“Yes. She didn’t understand why she had to leave her room. I remember being so completely heartbroken as I overheard what she said. And then you told her that there is good that comes from every bad thing that happens to us. You told your little sister, who was only two years younger than you, that no matter what happened, you would both be okay.”

Pain burns the back of my throat, but I don’t allow myself to sink into it. I’ll never surface again.

“Weston, I knew back then you were a good boy. And as I watched you grow, I saw you become a good man despite every single tragic card you were dealt. You took care of your sister when your mom—” She stops speaking, clearly afraid of overstepping.

“Quit trying?” I add. “You can say it. We both know that’s what happened.”

She gave up after selling this place. And when Violet died, she did absolutely nothing. I found her and Anastasia in those woods. I saw her broken body. I planned the funeral. I planned the burial. And I packed my mom up when she decided she wanted a fresh start somewhere else, where no one knew she’d had two children. All while I was also grieving the dissolution of my new marriage and the loss of a baby I would never get to meet.

“Sugar, you are one of the best men I’ve ever known.” She smiles. “So that’s why I let you come back. Because I know you’re a good man. Because you needed a home. And because I missed the boy I knew.”

“Except I wasn’t that boy anymore.”

“No,” she agrees. “But the man you became is someone I’m proud to know.”

Throat tight, I pull my hand back and open my notebook to the bullet points I made. My attempt to make this meeting go by even faster. “We need to hire a new ranch hand. I want to start putting out applications, but I’d like to raise the pay we’re offering.”

“Can we afford that?” She sips from her mug, thankfully accepting the conversation switch.

“We can. I’ll put up the money to cover the first year, and if we can increase our revenue from the cattle at auction this year, we can keep it going.”

“You don’t need to front the money.”

“I don’t mind. I just want your permission before I do it. The help we’ve been getting at that price point hasn’t been worth it. I want to find someone who is actually going to stick⁠—”