Page 64 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

All of my thoughts are pointless. They’re probably relieved as all hell that I’m gone and left the toothbrushes behind.

I stand again and steady myself.

My mom did it on her own. Hell, even the triplets’ mother did it on her own.

I can raise this baby on my own, too.

Eventually, the heartache will subside, and I’ll forget all about Vegas, Pine Sky Ranch, and the Collins brothers.

CHAPTER18

Owen

The air around the ranch thickens more every day. Brock throws himself full-time into the administration position that Emerson abandoned, snapping at everyone who asks him the smallest question.

I try to make myself scarce around the office, particularly when Brock is focused on something important.

I also avoid the stables and barns, where Toby is acting like a complete asshole.

Things go from bad to worse when one of our longtime clients calls to move her horses.

Brock fumes over dinner, his tongs poking furiously at the steaks on the barbecue. “We’re fucking cursed!” he growls. “This whole ranch.”

Toby pops open his third beer in an hour, and I smother the urge to comment on it, my head starting to pound.

“The only reason she’s moving the horses is because she’s relocating out of state,” I tell him reasonably. “It’s not a curse.”

“It sure as hell feels like a curse,” he hisses. “First this shit with Emerson and now?—”

“Don’t bring up that woman’s name around here!” Toby slurs.

I eye him and glance at Brock. He’s had more than the beers I counted, apparently.

I lean forward in my lawn chair. “Have any of you heard from her this week?”

“What did I just say?” Toby shrieks, slamming the bottle down on the table. “I don’t want to talk about her!”

“Then go inside and sleep it off until dinner’s ready!” I growl, my own patience wearing thin. “You’ve had enough to drink as it is.”

He gawks at me. “You’re not my dad, you know? None of you are!”

He stands and stumbles sideways making his way toward the house, but I don’t bother to help him. I almost hope he falls face-first into a wall. If I’m being honest, I’m still a little pissed off at him for how he reacted to Emerson.

He’s probably the reason she left without at least talking to us.

Brock watches our younger brother stumble into the house with a shake of his head. “He’s losing control. One of these days, he’s going to hurt himself.”

“He’s a grown-ass man,” I snap. “It’s about time he starts behaving like one.”

Surprised, Brock looks at me and flips the steaks on the grill before closing the lid of the barbecue and joining me at the table.

He studies me silently for a minute. “But you know he’s not really a grown-ass man, not really,” he drawls slowly. “Not in the same way we are.”

I grit my teeth and suck in a breath.

“And part of that is our fault,” Brock adds quietly. “He was so emotional after mom died, and instead of allowing him to face the consequences of his mistakes, we’ve been cleaning up his messes for years.”

Shame washes through me as I realize how right my brother is.

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