Page 21 of Sweet Beloved

CHAPTER TEN

FREYA

A YEAR LATER

There’s a step in the kitchen door, a quick scuff of a boot. I know who it is and what they’re waiting on. My heart is a lump in my throat. Taking a moment, I tuck my hair behind my ear. The electric kettle starts to whistle. I have my mug ready with chamomile harvested from my side garden. Reaching out, I click the button, and the light goes out.

“Mom.”

The word is soft. I sniff, fixing a smile on my face, and turn around. Slate stands in the doorway, looking like a copy-paste of his father: tall, not quite as broad, hair short, wearing a Henley in an oatmeal shade. For some reason, he’s wearing suspenders with his pants instead of his belt. I frown, moving closer.

“Where’s your belt, honey?” I ask.

He sighs, setting down the duffle bag. “Red stole it this morning. It’s fine. I’ll get another when I get there. I’d rather just forget it than fight him for it.”

Here come the tears again. I sniff, forcing that smile to stay on my face even though my lashes are wet.

“You ready?” I ask cheerily.

He cocks his head, giving me a look with his dark eyes. He’s got all the softness of his father’s gaze. It makes my heart hurt even more.

“I’m ready,” he says. “And I’m sorry this makes you sad.”

I shake my head. “I’m happy-sad. It’s a good thing.”

He reaches out and hugs me. I wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder. Slate was the son who made me a mother, the boy who helped raise his little brothers. They don’t know how lucky they are to have had him.

The side door opens, and I let Slate go, leaning into the hall. It’s Gage, flipping his truck keys over his hand.

“Hey, we gotta haul out,” he calls.

The boys are going to Billings today to drop Slate off at college. It’s a long drive, and they’ll be gone overnight. Deacon offered to drive them, but I think they’d rather have one last boys’ trip before Slate starts his first semester at the state university there.

My heart swells with pride that Slate is going to college. He got in with flying colors, which makes sense—his grades have always been perfect. I know I’m his mother so of course my opinion is biased, but I’m also sure down to my core that Slate Ryder is destined for something big.

I sniff, wiping my face. Slate grabs his bag, and we all go out onto the porch. Deacon stands with Red and Remington, ready to wave goodbye. I sink into my husband’s side as the eldest boys walk down the front pathway, kicking up dust under their boots.

“Y’all be good,” I call. “No speeding or drinking or nothing.”

Deacon laughs, holding me close. “You heard what your mother said.”

“Bring me something back,” Red yells.

“Yeah, me too,” Remington chimes in.

Slate smiles, looking at us all with his father’s dark eyes from beneath the brim of his hat. Gage jumps in the truck, kicking the engine into gear. Slate raises his hand, and my throat gets so tight, I can barely breathe. Then, he gets in the truck. I see the shadow of their faces through the windshield as they back up and turn, heading down the driveway.

All at once, I don’t want to cry anymore. Red and Remington start chattering, heading out to the barn. I stay where I am, wrapped up in Deacon’s arm.

“Do you think Gage will go to college too?” I whisper.

“You want my honest answer?” Deacon asks.

I nod.

“I think Slate will be a businessman, maybe a lawyer. And I think Red and Remington will take over the ranch. Gage could go either way. He’s flexible,” he says, voice dropping until there’s a little rasp to it that lets me know he’s feeling something too. “But in the end, I think all the boys will come home when it’s time to raise their families.”

I look up at him with a watery smile, and he touches my face, cradling my cheek.

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