Page 71 of Hard Rain Coming

“So, what are you going to do?”

He held his cell loosely in his hand, staring off into the distance before he glanced down at his sister, who watched him closely.

“I’m going to make sure she knows that this time, I’m getting it right. If she wants space, I’ll give it to her. I’ll wait in the wings for as long as it takes.”

“What if it takes longer than you can give?” Jade frowned.

“It won’t.”

His sister sighed and played with the ends of her hair. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m all in,” he said simply. “Because that unicorn means something.”

“Unicorn?” He saw Jade’s confusion but didn’t elaborate. He ended the call with his sister and sat outside until the quiet became too heavy. Then he headed up to his room, which was opposite Vivian’s. He almost paused at her door, but knew he needed to honor her request for space. Instead, he lay down on the bed, fully dressed, and stared up at the ceiling.

Was she asleep? Or was she wrangling demons?

He closed his eyes and thought of his daughter. He’d barely been able to string his sentences together, and he hoped like hell she didn’t take him for some redneck with no brains. Throat tight, full of emotion, he tried to clear his mind, and eventually, he drifted off to sleep, his last thought of a tangle of dark hair, big blue eyes that shone with love, and a future just outside his grasp.

Chapter Twenty-Three

She’d had the dream many times. It never changed, no matter how much she wanted it to.

A million stars hung in the night sky, shimmering like diamonds over Yellowstone. In the distance, a wolf howled, and she shivered as she stood on the perimeter of camp. Her pajamas were pink and white, with frills along the sleeves. Her feet were bare, her hair braided. A tent large enough for the Bridgestone family sat half in darkness, and tied to the trees just beyond it was a pure-white horse, with piercing eyes of blue and mist that fell from its muzzle as it nervously pawed the earth. Across from the horse stood a wolf, dark as the night that covered them all, with impressive canines and blood-red eyes.

Her brother Benton sat on a log, head hung as he stared at his feet, while Scarlett and Cal ran circles around the fire and sang songs. And there, tucked between shadow and light, was a crib, Ryland’s chubby feet the only part of him visible.

Vivian took one step forward because something was wrong, but paused when a fiddle began to play a haunting melody full of minor notes. There were no words, just the sound of the instrument, a sad lament she wished would stop. She put her hands over her ears, but it didn’t matter. The sad song penetrated all.

Then she heard it. Her mother’s voice. Sweet. Strong. So velvety soft, so full of life, it felt like a warm embrace. She opened her eyes, searching for her mother.

But all she saw was a shooting star. A blazing ray of light that cut through the night sky. Then the trees began to shake. The wind picked up and howled. And all the while, the silent wolf watched.

As the leaves and pine needles began to fall.

As Benton’s shoulders shook.

As the horse broke free of its rope and disappeared.

As her mother’s voice became nothing but a whisper of memory.

As the night sky receded with all those beautiful shimmering diamonds, leaving nothing but utter darkness.

Vivian woke up with a cry and rolled out of bed, her body slick with sweat, her cheeks wet with tears. She grabbed for the glass of water on the bedside table and downed it, running her hands over her face.

God, it felt so real.

“Shit,” she muttered and got to her feet, padding across the room to peer out the window. The clock on the dresser told her it was just after 5:00 a.m., and the shadows that rippled across the front yard weren’t as dark as they’d been a few hours earlier. She eyed the shower, then looked at the mess of blankets on the bed. No way would sleep find her again, so she decided a hot shower might improve her state of mind.

It didn’t, though she appeared downstairs an hour later, skin sparkling, her hair up in a messy bun, dressed in an old pair of jeans and a light-blue cashmere sweater. She’d knocked on Dallas’s door, but there’d been no answer, and she found him chatting with Miss Callie over a cup of coffee, discussing the merits of real butter versus the fake crap.

“Did you know that New Zealand exports the most butter out of any other country in the entire world?” Miss Callie asked, just as Vivian stepped into the kitchen. She gave a small wave when they both turned to her.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice scratchy.

“Well, hello,” Miss Callie said, getting to her feet with a warm smile. “You grab yourself a fresh cup of coffee, and I’ll leave you two alone.” She gently squeezed Vivian’s arm as she passed, then disappeared out the door.

“How’d you sleep?” Dallas asked. He leaned against the counter and watched her with soft blue eyes. He wore the usual, a black Henley and faded jeans, with his hair loose around his shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat when their eyes met, and she swallowed the nervous lump that appeared in her throat.

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