Page 15 of Rip Ryder's Second Chance

Dear Noelle,

If you’re reading this then my days of hellraising have ended. Death never worried me. I long to be with Cybal again so dying feels only like a transition. Although you and I lost contact over the years you have always meant so much to me. When you were little, I asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” You proudly said, “I want to take care of horses and cows like you.” I don’t know if there’s a part of that little girl that still exists, but I’d like to think so. When I pondered what I wanted to see happen to Bluebird after I was gone, I knew I wanted you to have part of it. At first, it’ll throw you off balance. Working a ranch isn’t easy but it comes with its rewards. You might not want to return to Second Chance because I know it might peel the scab off some demons, but I hope you realize you are safe here. I would like for you to make Bluebird your home. Raise a family here. There’s something I couldn’t tell you when I was alive and I always regretted that fact. Now I’m gone so I guess I can get away with telling my truth. I met your mom at a rodeo event. I took one look at her and fell hard. She was a beautiful vision if I ever did see one. We didn’t mean for anything to happen, but it did. And then she got pregnant with you. I had every intention of leaving Cybal to do right by you, but then tragedy struck. Cybal had a stroke that left her without use of her voice and legs. I realized how much I loved her and couldn’t leave her. I know this is a lot to handle, but you need to understand why you belong in Second Chance, and at Bluebird.

Love, Tuck.

She reread the letter three times, thinking she must have misread his words.

But she’d read them right. Tuck Blue was her father.

Her biological father.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Sadness and surprise crawled into her chest.

The letter dropped out of her hand and floated to the floor as more tears settled on her cheeks.

Why hadn’t she been told the truth? Now it was too late.

She climbed out of the tub, pulled on a robe, and headed down the hallway into the kitchen, pouring herself a small amount of whiskey. She drained the glass and winced.

Patricia had always told Noelle that her father had been a one-night stand and she had no idea where he disappeared to.

Anger sliced through her.

She paced the floor. Feeling lightheaded.

Betrayal beat through her veins.

Grabbing her phone, she dialed her mother who answered on the third ring. “I hope this is urgent, dear, because I just climbed into bed.”

“Is the fact that Tuck Blue is my father urgent enough?”

Chapter 6

Rip dragged the sheet around his hips and grasped the material with his tight fist as he jerked open the door, blinking in the morning sunlight. An angel with a halo stood on the doorstep…

He used his hand as a sun screen and then he saw her. So, she’d come after all. “Hi, Noelle. I didn’t think you had anything more to say to me?”

“Hi, Rip.” She looked a bit uncomfortable. “Did I wake you?”

“What time is it?” He wasn’t sure what time he’d finally fallen asleep last night. He’d tossed and turned most of the night on the lumpy bed with the rusty springs that creaked every time he moved.

“It’s early. May I come in?”

“Sure.” He took a step back, allowed her to pass, then kicked the door closed with his bare foot. He watched her stop in the center of the room and study the crumpled bed and the opened whiskey bottle on the nightstand before she turned to face him. He looked deep into the murkiness of her eyes, feeling like he’d hit a brick wall going at a high rate of speed. Her eyes were red-rimmed like she’d been crying.

Yeah, she read the letter.

“Sorry that I woke you, but I wanted to talk about the letter. You knew that Tuck was my father, didn’t you?”

He cleared his throat. “Not until recently. Coffee?” He headed for the cheap coffeemaker on the desk. If he wanted to be fully present for the conversation, he needed caffeine to clear out the whiskey cobwebs in his brain. After he’d left her place yesterday, he’d stopped, grabbed himself a bottle of Tennessee’s finest and sat alone in his room taking a stroll down memory lane. He’d done a good job of living with his wounds, but he decided he needed to man-up and realize there was no way in hell she’d come back to Second Chance. Might be better for both that way anyway. What they had in the past was just that. In the past. Yet, the second he looked into her eyes he felt a trigger of emotion in his gut.

“No, thanks,” she said softly.

“Probably a good choice. This is what we like to call “ulcer coffee’.” He hooked the sheet in a tight knot at his waist and ripped open a pouch of coffee grounds that flew out all over the desk and the floor. He did a clumsy job of filling the vestibule and opening a bottle of water, pouring it into the too-small tank. He pressed the power button and inhaled the coffee scent, already starting to feel more human.

“Rough night?” She jutted her chin toward the bottle.

“You could say that.”

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