Page 148 of Marry Me, Maybe?
I opened my mouth, thought about telling him no, thenshut it again. My chest pulled tight. “Yeah,” I said softly. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Dad tipped his hat back, lines deepening around his eyes. “You sure?”
I nodded.
He gave a short huff. “Then get yourself something to eat. A man needs more than love as sustenance to work a ranch. And you’ve got a whole afternoon of cattle to move.”
I almost protested, but the truth was, he was right. My stomach was knotted, but it was empty too. “Fine,” I muttered.
I ducked into the barn, grabbed a plate, and forced down a few mouthfuls of stew. I answered their chatter with nods and grunts. My head wasn’t in it, but the food grounded me. When the whistle blew to get back to work, I headed out to the pens, slipping back into the rhythm of ranch life, ropes, gates, hooves, and dust.
But Hudson still hadn’t shown.
By midafternoon, sweat was running down my back, and I was ankle-deep in churned mud trying to free a heifer that had wedged her head through the rails when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I yelled for Clayton to take over and stepped aside to answer the call, disappointed when it was Dad, not Hudson.
I swiped the call open. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“We can’t reach Hudson.” His tone was grim, clipped. In the background came the sharp, heart-wrenching sound of Ivy sobbing, high and panicked, calling out “Daddee” between hiccuped breaths. My chest seized.
“What’s wrong with Ivy?”
“She fell off the swing, and she’s hurt. We’re on our way into town to have her checked out by the doctor.”
My stomach dropped. “Fuck.” My voice came hoarse. “Is she—how bad?—”
“She should be fine. Won’t be the first time I’m dealing with a child who has a broken arm.”
“Her arm’s broken?”
“She’s crying for Hudson, but I can’t get to him. Try to get there as soon as you can. Perhaps you can calm her down.”
“I’m coming.” The words tore out of me. I was already vaulting the fence, boots skidding in mud, mind blank but for Ivy’s cries echoing in my ear.
Where the hell are you, Hud?
The clinic’sparking lot was nearly empty when I pulled in, dust rising behind my tires. I shut the door and ran toward the glass entrance. The cool blast of AC hit me, but it did nothing to settle the fire in my chest.
Todd was behind the reception counter, a stethoscope slung around his neck, a clipboard in hand. He looked up, recognition flickering in his eyes. Then his expression smoothed into something professional.
“Matty.” He gave me a quick nod. “I take it you’re here for Ivy.”
“Yeah. How is she doing? It’s not too bad, is it?”
“Dr. Knight is still checking her over.” He frowned, looking over my shoulder. “You came alone?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just surprised. You’d think a father would be the first person to show up when his daughter got injured because she wasn’t being watched properly. But what do I know?”
I gritted my teeth, biting back the retort to defend Hudson. Why the hell couldn’t anyone get in touch with him? I’d called his phone several times on the drive over, and nothing.
“Where is she?”
“She’s in room two. Your dad’s in the waiting room.”
“Thanks.” I set off before he could say more.
The automatic doors opened up to the waiting room. Ozzie was perched on a chair in the corner, his face blotchy and eyes red. I scanned the area, but there was no sign of Dad, though I could hear a muffled child’s cries.
