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He assesses me for a moment and then purses his lip. “You made Taya sad.”

You truly fucked up, Brooks, if even a four-year-old knows about your screw up.

“Yes, I did.”

He thinks about this. The horse is pressed against his chest—I look at it more carefully now. It’s not Ranger, who he had at the barbecue. It’s a different one, smaller, darker, a bay with a weathered paint job that tells me he’s been around for a while.

“Are you going to fix it?” he asks.

“I’m trying to.”

He considers whether trying is sufficient. His eyes drop to the horse in his hands, then come back up.

“Daddy said when you break something, you have to make it…okay.” He strokes the horse’s head. “Not just say sorry.”

Clara makes a small sound. Her hand moves to Eli’s back, steady.

I smile, touch his hair. “Your father was right.”

He holds the horse up toward me.

“This is Copper,” he explains. “Ranger is with Taya because she has to win in court. When she wins all the way, Ranger comes home.” He says it with the flat logic of a child. It’s endearing, and my heart does that thing it’s been doing since I met Taya—feeling like shit. “Copper is staying here until then.”

I look at Copper. “That’s a good system.”

Eli nods. Pulls the horse back against his chest. He glances at me one more time—the final accounting of a four-year-old who has said what he came to say. “If you make it okay, then Taya will be happy again. She’s sad. You can see it. Right, Mama?”

“Yeah, baby.” His mother kisses his hair.

“I’m working on making it okay. I promise.”

He seems to accept this, and then he cuddles into Clara. “Mama, I had a bad dream about a dragon.”

“I know, baby.” Clara stands with him in her arms. “Let’s go back to bed.”

She gives me a smile over his shoulder.

It’s not forgiveness, not yet, but the acknowledgment of two people who understand each other’s accounting.

“I’m going to put him to bed.”

“I’ll wait for Wiley.”

“Say good night to Mason, Eli.”

“Goodnight, Mason,” Eli mumbles, his little head resting against his mother’s shoulder.

She carries him down the hallway. I hear his voice going quiet, telling her about the dragon with green eyes that was mean to the horses.

I sit at Clara Whitman’s kitchen island, finish my coffee, and listen to the house settle around me.

Wiley’s truck turns up the drive ten minutes later. He comes through the door. “She good?”

“Yeah.” I rise. “Eli had a bad dream. She’s with him.”

He nods. “You can go.”

I set my cup in the sink and walk to the doorway. “Thanks for letting me talk to her.”