Page 47 of Moon Blind Hearts
“So?”
I glance at Genie who’s entirely distracted by Ophelia trying to steal her apple slice. “You don’t talk about her dad much,” I say softly so she doesn’t hear.
“That’s because she doesn’t have one,” she answers just as softly. At my questioning gaze, she sighs. “She has a donor, of course, but he has no interest in a child nor will he ever be a part of her life.”
“But he knows about her?” I ask, frowning. What kind of man doesn’t want anything to do with his daughter?
She nods. “He does. He made it very clear that he won’t be in her life.” She shrugs. “He was another business transaction anyways. One who lied about his vasectomy by the way. So, I didn’t exactly try harder.”
My brows shoot up. Shit, I hadn’t even considered something like that. The mindfuck that must have been . . .
“It doesn’t matter,” she continues. “I don’t need him. Genie and I are perfectly fine on our own.”
“Of course, I wasn’t implying that you aren’t. I was just curious.”
“Why?” she asks, her eyes on mine.
I open my mouth and close it, searching for a proper answer. “Well . . . not for business reasons, I guess,” I admit, shrugging.
“What exactly has changed your mind?” she asks.
I appreciate that about her. There’s no beating around the bush. She asks a straight question and expects a straight answer.
“I . . . don’t know,” I reply honestly.
She hums and takes a bite of the chicken salad sandwich on her plate. She stares at me the entire time before I watch her gaze trickle down to my throat. I’m tense before the question even leaves her lips.
“You know, I’ve often wondered about the pearls you wear,” she says carefully, weighing the risk of asking in the first place. “It’s an interesting fashion choice for a cowboy.”
She’s been honest with me, so part of me feels like I owe her the same honesty, but I haven’t talked about it in so long, refusing to, that it takes everything inside of me to claw it from my lips.
“I . . . had a daughter,” I whisper.
Her eyes widen as she catches the word “had.” I don’t talk about it for this reason. People don’t know how to handle so much sadness, so much grief, but she surprises me again when she doesn’t ask. She just reaches out and touches my hand, offering comfort, understanding it’s not something I like to talk about. Because of that, I find myself able to for the first time in a long time.
“She died,” I continue. “Five years ago. Leukemia.”
Her eyes widen. “What was her name?”
“Paisley.” I reach up and touch the pearls at my throat. “She was six.”
The sigh that escapes her lungs is so full of sadness, it nearly does me in.
“The pearls were hers, weren’t they?” she asks gently.
I nod. “She liked playing dress up and I was often roped into dressing up with her. The day she went to the hospital for the last time, she put these around my neck.” I chuckle, my throat thick with emotion. “She grabbed my face hard and demanded I dress up with her when we got home.” I shake my head. “I remember her voice was so . . . weak. So . . . little. It was unlike her. She’d been such a brave little girl all the way through it.” I sniff and swipe at my face, looking anywhere but at Jules. “Anyways, we never got the chance. She never left the hospital again and I haven’t taken them off since.”
I’m not looking at her or Genie. Not now. I can’t. I know what I’ll see, the emotions of a mother imagining the loss of her own child. So, I’m not prepared when her arms are suddenly around me, when she climbs into my lap to wrap me in a hug I didn’t even know I needed. Tears fall over my lashes as I wrap my arms around her in return, holding her close. When little hands join in at seeing us hug, I pull Genie in, too. Jules doesn’t tell me she’s sorry for my loss. She doesn’t need to. She gives me all of her emotion in that singular hug, and I know it’s a bad idea, but I take the comfort she offers. I accept it.
And right there, in a pasture surrounded by dairy cows, I give her my heart without ever meaning to.
God help me. I give it to her.
Chapter 26
Jules
Genie stays home with Bonnie the next day so that I can go into town with Cash, Oak, and Sawyer. Apparently, it’s farmer market Sunday, and they asked me to come along with them to set up the booth with their artisan cheese. I’d hesitated, mostly because I’m getting in way too deep with these three men, but ultimately, I came.
