Page 92 of The Mountain Echoes
“Vera cooked,” I announce.
Earl sighs dramatically. Tomas stage whispers a prayer, thanking God for the food that Nadine didn’t cook.
Nadine gives them both the stink eye.
The old oak table in the kitchen has seen years of knives, burns, and elbows, and is groaning under the weight of food—cast iron skillets of sausage and eggs, a tray of buttermilk biscuits still steaming, bowls of butter and jam, two pitchers of milk, and a pot of ranch-style beans for anyone still hungry after two plates.
Maverick drops into the chair beside me, stretches his long legs out.
Zane and his boys flank one side, alreadyshoveling food like it’s a contest. Tomas pulls up at the far end with Wes, who gives me a sheepish smile before piling food onto his plate.
Earl sits near the window, back straight despite the exhaustion. He pours coffee in two mugs and hands one to Nadine without being asked.
She smiles faintly and squeezes his shoulder.
“I’d forgotten,” I murmur.
“Forgotten what?” Maverick asks.
I gesture at the scene. “The kind of morning that makes you remember why you do this.”
It’s loud—cutlery scraping plates, chairs creaking, boots thumping under the table. People are laughing again. There’s a tempo to it, like the beat of a heart that’s been bruised but is still pumping strong.
“Yeah,” he agrees, his eyes soft with affection.
Nadine stands at the head of the table like a general surveying her troops. “There’s a peach cobbler cooling by the window,” she says. “But none of you are touching it until I see two more fences patched and somebody cleans the mud off my porch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tomas mumbles, around a bite of sausage.
I grab a biscuit, tear it in half, smear it with butter and Wildflower honey from the pantry.
Maverick watches me like I’ve done something sacred.
“What?” I ask.
He leans in. “I just knew watching you eat breakfast would be the highlight of my week.”
“Flirt later,” Nadine quips. “Eat now.”
Maverick laughs. “Nadine, your tongue is as sharp as these biscuits are light.”
Nadine gives him a withering look. “You’re lucky to have biscuits.”
“Luckier that Vera baked them,” Earl grunts and gets a tap on the backside of his head from Nadine.
I watch the scene, and despite the fear of failure curdling in the pit of my stomach, I feel like I belong.
CHAPTER 22
maverick
Istayed the day at Longhorn.
I’ve been here before when Rami was alive, when Hudson and Celine were in the house. It seemed oppressive to me.
But now, with them gone, and Aria’s laughter filling the space, Longhorn Ranch looks like it’s welcoming spring and renewal in more ways than one.
“Zane patched another fence that looked worn in the north end,” I tell Aria.
