Page 34 of Secret Southern Promises

Boone stood up, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since I arrived. There was something in his expression that made my heart twist, but I couldn’t deal with that right now. Not with Nash sitting here, clearly trying to downplay his injuries.

Boone cleared his throat, his voice steady but laced with a tension I couldn’t ignore. “I was sitting on the porch when they came riding down the sidewalk. One minute he was cruising along, and the next, he was ass over tea kettle.”

“He was airborne for at least five seconds,” Kevin added, wide-eyed and way too casual for my liking, considering the situation.

Lord have mercy. It was crazy how things happened in a split second. One moment, I was trying to figure out why my son wasn’t at the store, and the next, I was standing on a sidewalk with Boone West crouched in front of Nash, the boy he didn’t even know was his.

I glanced at Boone, my heart hammering in my chest, but he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were fixed on Nash, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen before. And in that instant, I knew that Boone had put it all together. The math was simple: Nash was fourteen, and Boone and I were wild in love with each other fifteen years ago. Boone wasn’t stupid. He’d figured it out.

Kevin, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between us adults, continued, “At least you wrecked in front of the mostfamous guy in Magnolia Grove. Not as dangerous as a bucking bronc, but I’d say it was up there.”

Boone finally looked at me, and I felt the weight of his gaze like a punch to the gut. He knew. There was no question about it anymore. But now wasn’t the time to discuss it—not in the middle of the street with Nash sitting there holding his arm like it was hanging on by a thread.

“We need to get you to the doctor, Nash,” I said, trying to sound calm though my insides were twisted in knots. “I’m afraid your arm might be broken.”

“It’s fine,” Nash insisted, grimacing but trying to play it cool. “I don’t need to go to the doctor.”

“Yes, you do,” I said firmly and kneeled in front of him to get a better look at his arm. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“You should definitely get that checked out,” Boone chimed in, his voice steady and authoritative. “I broke my collarbone once a few years back with the same kind of stunt you did—except on a bull.”

Nash perked up, clearly impressed. “Did you have to get a cast?”

Boone shook his head. “Just a sling for a couple of weeks. Had a clean break, though.”

Nash turned his eyes to me, a little more hopeful now. “I’m only going if I don’t have to get a cast.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated but relieved that Boone’s words had swayed him. “How about we go to the doctor, and they’ll tell you what you need, okay? No promises.”

Nash hesitated, then glanced back at Boone, who gave him a nod of encouragement. “Fine,” Nash conceded, sighing like I was dragging him off to the worst fate imaginable.

Of course, he’d listen to Boone—the famous bull rider, the town hero—over his mother. I swallowed hard. Well, he wasactually listening to his father, even if neither of them knew the full story yet.

Boone stood and offered a hand to Nash and helped him up carefully so as not to jostle his arm too much. I watched in silence, my chest tightening as they stood side by side for the first time. Kevin hopped back onto his bike, completely oblivious to the tension swirling in the air. “I’ll see you later, Nash! Glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Kev,” Nash called back, his voice a little weaker than usual. Kevin waved and pedaled off down the street, leaving just the three of us.

Boone gently opened the passenger side door of my car, his movements deliberate and careful. Nash slid inside, wincing as he adjusted his arm on his lap. Boone shut the door, then turned to face me, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with questions he wasn’t ready to ask yet.

“Boone,” I started, my voice shaky, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.

“How old is he, Dolly?” His voice was quiet but firm, leaving no room for me to dance around the truth.

“Fourteen and a couple of months,” I whispered, feeling the weight of the years collapse in on me all at once.

His jaw clenched tighter. “Birthday?”

I hesitated for a second too long, but I knew there was no point in lying now. “Uh, February fifth.”

Boone closed his eyes for a beat, his shoulders sagging as he let out a long breath. He didn’t have to say it out loud; the truth was already written all over his face. I had just confirmed what he’d suspected. Nash was his.

“Look, I know we need to talk,” I said quickly, my voice trembling, “but could we just wait until I get Nash checked out?”

Boone’s eyes opened, and the anger simmering beneath the surface was clear as day. “Well, we already waited fourteenyears,” he said bitterly, his voice low but laced with frustration. “What’s another hour or two? Take care of him and let me know how he is.”

He turned on his heel before I could say anything else, his back stiff as he started walking toward his house. “I’ll bring his bike over later tonight,” he added without looking back.

I stood there, watching him go, my mouth half-open, words stuck in my throat. I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell him why I’d kept this secret, why I hadn’t told him all those years ago. But now wasn’t the time. Nash was in the car, likely hurting more than he was letting on, and the last thing I wanted was to have this conversation in front of him.

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