Page 28 of Sometimes You Stay

The dogs were in the same barn, and Finn worked out of the same house—at the same desk—his grandfather had. It all looked pretty much the same except for some new paint, expanded fences, and a few four-legged strays.

But if his setup didn’t grow, he’d never be able to put his own stamp on the family legacy. He’d leave exactly the same thing to his own kids. The same moderate success. Just enough to keep going. Just enough to worry about the next month. Not nearly enough to hire help or take a vacation.

Finn scrubbed his hand down his face, combing his fingers through his too shaggy beard.

Something had to change. Even if the banks didn’t think he was a worthy investment, he could do something new with this legacy. He just had to figure out what.

Cretia jogged into the tack room, still warily looking over her shoulder. “I don’t think your cow likes me.”

“On the contrary. Hate isn’t the opposite of love.”

“Apathy is,” she finished for him, a smile tugging at her mouth. “So, you’re saying her attentions are an indication of her affection for me.”

He grabbed the tongs from the tabletop, poked at the two-liter green bottles that danced in the water, and shrugged. “I mean, she basically ignores everyone else. Clearly, she’s fascinated by you.”

“By wanting to eat me, you mean.”

Finn dropped the bottle he’d pulled halfway up, jumping back to avoid the splash. Laugher rolled out unbidden, and he had to gasp to catch his breath before he could respond. “I don’t think she suddenly turned into a carnivore.”

“Hmm.” Cretia’s lips pursed to the side, and she shot another glance at the bovine in question. “Maybe she knows how much I like carne asada and thinksIate one of her cousins.”

Where had this woman come from? Equal parts ridiculous and adorable, and he had no idea what to do with her. So he shoved a red oven mitt and a black rubber stopper into her hands.

She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

“For the bottle. Hang on.” After sliding on a blue oven mitt—the tip singed black from an incident with a flaming cake when he was nine or ten—he retrieved the bottles and set one in front of her. Then he demonstrated how to put the stopper in.

Cretia mimicked his actions, hesitant at first with the warm bottle, but finally cradled it with the mitt on one hand and shoved the rubber into place.

When the bottles had cooled enough to touch, he said, “Grab your milk.” Nodding back toward the pens, he led the way back to the goat enclosure and let himself through the gate. “Wait out here just a second.”

Jenna tipped her brown-and-white face up at him beforequickly herding her little ones into the corner. Sonny, mostly white save a tan stripe around his middle, peeked around her. The little guy remained silent but watchful, his eerie amber eyes never blinking.

“Come here, mama,” Finn said. Holding out a bit of feed in his hand, he coaxed her toward the gate that led into the eastern pasture. Then, with a practiced movement, he nudged her with his hip until she was outside, only then giving her the treat in his hand. Her tongue was rough and damp, and he wiped his palm down her face and across her long, narrow nose. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt them.”

Jenna bleated her uncertainty, pressing against the gate’s metal bars just as Sonny and Cher began their own chorus.

“Is she going to be okay?” Cretia asked.

“She acts like this is the first time, every time. She’ll settle down as soon as the kids do.” Finn leaned over and scooped up Sonny. The kid kicked for a moment despite the firm grip around his middle. “Come on, big guy. You’re just hungry, aren’t you?”

Finn doubted the goat had learned the words, but it still responded to his voice, settling into his chest with a sigh even as it reached for the bottle in his other hand. When he swung toward Cretia to let her into the pen, her eyes were wide with something like wonder, but she said nothing as he pointed toward the bright green Adirondack chair in the corner.

“It might be easier to sit down. Cher is pretty gentle, but she gets excited about her milk.”

Cretia nodded, perching on the edge of the chair.

She wouldn’t stay there long.

Biting back a grin, he tapped the Adirondack’s arm,waving his own bottle. Cher leapt onto the chair, and Cretia pressed a hand to her mouth and muffled a scream as she flew against the back of the seat. The response didn’t bother Cher, who hopped onto Cretia’s lap, her little mouth already chomping toward the rubber top of the bottle, her little brown rear wiggling with glee.

Cretia’s wild eyes darted between him and Cher, uncertainty and a bit of fear evident in the lines of her face. Finn waved his bottle again before holding it in the general vicinity of Sonny’s mouth. The kid latched on like the pro he was.

“You don’t even have to have good aim. She’ll find it.”

Face turning serious and eyebrows intent, Cretia tucked one arm around Cher’s middle while waving the milk bottle in her other hand. Not to be outdone by her brother, Cher snatched the tip between her lips and immediately began working it.

“If you hold it at an angle—”

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