Page 91 of Tate
Tate finished off his water, set the glass on the counter. “So, how did you get from there to…well…” He glanced out the window to the family campfire. To Gilly.
And of course, looked at Glo, who had drawn up her knees, clasping her arms around them. She glanced at the house, as if feeling his gaze on her.
“I had to stop trying.”
Tate looked at him. “What?”
“I know. It sounds crazy, but I had to stop trying so hard to prove that…well, that I was somebody worth loving, I guess. And just let Gilly—and God, too—love me.”
Tate reached for one of the cupcakes on a plate on the counter.
“Touch that and you’ll pull back a nub.”
Tate glanced at his brother. Held up his hands. “Fine. Listen, I don’t need to prove to anybody that…whatever. It’s no big deal.”
“It’s theonlydeal, Tate. When you show up with nothing and discover that you’re loved because of who you are—that’s when you realize what it means to be a son of God. That’s when you discover that you’ve inherited more than you could possibly imagine. It’s pretty breathtaking.” He grinned. “Sort of like free-falling, knowing that your chute is going to catch you.”
He frowned at Reuben, but the door opened, and Gilly came in. “I’m checking on my cupcakes.”
“All good here, honey,” Reuben said and pulled her against him. But he looked back at Tate. “Just remember, bro. You’re not the good news. Jesus is.” He clamped him on the shoulder and guided Gilly back outside.
A son of God. Tate didn’t know why those words settled inside him, rough-edged and itchy.
He’d never really seen himself as the son of anyone—sure, Orrin Marshall, but he was so very different from his father.
Different from his brothers.
He watched them out the window. All of them loved the ranch, knew how to throw a rope, were easy in the saddle, and sure, Ford had gone on to become a SEAL, but at the end of the day, he was a cowboy to his core.
Tate had hated the ranch.
No, he hated not measuring up.
As he watched, Ford got up and, after a glance at Scarlett, headed to the house.
Nice. Tag team brotherly counsel.
He was leaning against the counter, his arms folded when Ford entered.
Ford gave a smirk. “Right. Okay. So I’m just adding that Scarlett didn’t know it was you in that story.”
“I know.”
“And although I didn’t know the entire story, I do know this.” Ford crossed his arms to match Tate’s. “We train every day, for months, hoping to get things right, and we still make mistakes. No op is perfect. You go in, stay alert, and rely on your brothers to have your back. And I’m not just talking your fellow Rangers.”
“I was impulsive, and I got people killed. And I still do.” He looked outside. “I can’t let anything happen to Glo.”
Ford nodded. “I get that.” He had been looking out the window, too, and now turned back to Tate. “And sometimes you have to follow your gut. You, more than anyone, know that. It’s how we stay alive out there, right?”
Tate shrugged.
Ford walked over to the pantry. “Man, if you only knew how much I wanted to be like you when I was younger. You were always doing the cool things.”
“If you mean breaking bones and driving Ma crazy?—”
“Like I said. And I still look at you and think…man, he’s got all the luck. The jerk.”
“Hardly.”
