Page 20 of Wylder Ranch
Every day this summer began with Max insisting on a visit to the farmyard so he could check on the calves andgive them extra breakfast. This would then be followed by a trip to Foxleigh Park—Miles’s polo yard—to visit all the ponies. It’s still undecided whether Max will take after Hendricks and become a vet, or Miles and become a polo player.
“You’re correct. Uncle Alex didn’t give birth, but it’s Uncle Alex’s sperm.”
Instead of sipping my coffee, I splutter into it. Hot liquid dribbles down my chin, and I snatch the napkin Hendricks holds out to me, while displaying a wide and annoying grin. “Please don’t talk about my sperm.”
“We’re a farming family, Al. We can use the correct terminology. Max knows all about sperm, don’t you?”
God, Miles is a patronizing twat when he wants to be. I guess he’s done with being supportive.
But Max’s face lights up. “Yes. It’s what we put in Minnie and Elsa so they would have the baby calves.”
“Correct again, Maxy. Well done.”
After high-fiving Miles, Max turns around slowly, studying me with his curious five-year-old eyes. His head tilts. “Uncle Alex. Did you put your sperm in a girl?”
“He certainly did.” Miles winks, and his face splits with his signature shit-stirring smirk.
Yes, he’s definitely done with being supportive.
“Honestly, Miles. For goodness’ sake.” In the corner, my mother pinches the bridge of her nose, too annoyed with me to object any further to Miles’s crudeness, while I mouth, “You’re a dick.”
“And that’s what made a cousin?”
This time, Hendricks nods. “Yes. That’s what made a cousin.”
Max ponders this revelation. His tiny fingers drumagainst his cheek exactly the same as Hendricks when he’s thinking. “Hmm. Can I have a boy cousin?”
Miles shakes his head, his face a mask of solemnity. “Unfortunately, you don’t get to choose that, buddy. She’s already arrived, and she’s a girl cousin.”
Immediately, Max’s top lip curls in a snarl. “Ugh, girls are yuck.”
And with that, he throws me a withering look he could have only learned from my mother, like I’ve somehow let him down, and goes over to the playroom off the kitchen in search of his fire engine.
“Maxy, darling, don’t forget you have to have a nap before the fireworks tonight,” reminds my mother.
“I hate naps.” His response is loud enough for the entire household to get the message, and the sound of sirens going off thwarts any possible conversation following this.
“I thought Lando took the batteries out of that,” I groan because the noise is migraine-inducing.
“You’ll have to get used to it, big brother. You’re a dad now. Batteries come with the territory.”
And just like that, my reality comes crashing back down again.
“Christ.” My head drops into my hands. “What am I going to do?”
“You have to start by talking to Haven. She’s going to be at the fireworks tonight,” Miles replies. “Apologize for being a dick and go from there.”
I turn to my mother, who’s uncharacteristically silent. “Mum, what do you think?”
She puts down her teacup. “I will support whatever decision you make, but you need a paternity test.”
I respond by telling them the one thing I’ve been fixating on for the past twenty-four hours. “The baby’s birthday is September twentieth.” I glance around, but no one says anything. I don’t know if they think it’s as curious as I do. Of all the days she could have been born, it’s the same day as my father. “That has to mean something, right?”
Ignoring me, Miles picks up another chocolate chip cookie. “She’s struggling, Al. It’s not been easy for her. She’s on her own. I think it took a lot of guts to fly over here.”
I nod, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice, but it’s hard. “I know she’s on her own, and I know why she’s on her own. But she had ten months to ask for help and didn’t.”
“She’s asking you now,” he says softly.
