Page 88 of A Montana Rodeo Star

“What if I’m meant for something else? A family. Stability?”

“You can get that anywhere. Your folks managed it.”

“Until they didn’t,” Brent muttered bitterly.

His father gripped his shoulder in what was supposed to be reassuring. “Accidents happen anywhere. Car accidents. Drowning. Plane crashes. Fires. What your mother couldn’t handle was losing your father. She compartmentalized her grief and blamed the vocation. My mistake was giving her what I thought she needed most. And when she asked to change Tripp’s name, I suggested we name you after Lou.”

Something wet splashed onto Brent’s hand, drawing his attention to the fact he was crying. He brushed at the tears on his cheeks and sucked in an unsteady breath. He’d been wondering about that. It had been his father. The man who knew how much his wife cared for another man had suggested she keep a piece of him, however small.

Brent swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

His father squeezed his shoulder again. “Your mother and I already talked about it. We’re going to support you in whatever decision you make. We haven’t shown you in the right ways, but we are so proud of you. What’s important is that you make a decision you won’t regret. Heaven knows there’s enough of that to go around.”

“What would you do?” Brent asked the question before he could think better of it.

His father rose to his feet and stared down at him with a small smile. “The easy answer is to make a pros and cons list.”

“And the hard one?”

“Follow your heart.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Faith lost track of how many times she’d read over the same sentence. The medical book she’d picked out of the discount bin at the bookstore would normally pull her out of her discombobulated thoughts. Never before had she been so distracted.

Brent was supposed to stop by today.

Maybe he’d gotten too scared since her brothers were still upset with him. They’d been keeping their distance from her, but she wasn’t sure if that was because they were busy or because they wanted to give her space to make sense of everything.

She hadn’t told them that she’d snuck out last night. Maybe that was the problem. Her brothers were always aware of what was going on. It was entirely possible that they already knew she’d done just that.

Shoot! What if they saw Brent’s truck. They wouldn’t give her the cold shoulder for that, would they?

Oh, they absolutely would.

They’d give her the cold shoulder and while they did that, they’d lie in wait until Brent showed up again so they could jump him.

She shot out of her seat on the front porch, her book falling to the wooden floor beneath with a thud. Then she grabbed her phone to call Brent. The last thing he needed while he dealt with his family issues was her family issues.

“No, no, no, no,” she murmured to herself when his phone went to voicemail. He couldn’t come right now. He shouldn’t come at all. She should go to him.

Faith was about ready to run inside for her keys so she could do just that when Brent’s truck pulled onto their property.

This wasn’t good.

She swung her head around, trying to figure out when she’d last caught sight of one of her brothers. But the truth was, she hadn’t seen them since breakfast. They could be anywhere. She prayed they’d gone to town. That was her only hope.

Brent climbed out of his truck looking a little better than he had last night. He must have slept better than she had. It was just after lunch, and she wouldn’t have blamed him if he slept in late today. He probably needed it. The way his body had taken a beating during his competition was only one of many things he needed to deal with in order to heal.

She hurried down the steps toward him, ready to push him back into his truck but she was too late.

As if they materialized from thin air, her two brothers were on him. They practically pinned Brent to the truck and got in his face. Tate was the one to speak first. “You’re not welcome here, Brent. Count your blessings and leave because the last time you spoke to my sister, you should have been taught a lesson.”

Faith grabbed at his arm. “Tate, don’t.”

Brent’s eyes flickered to hers, but they weren’t full of sorrow or pain. Maybe a flicker of guilt was in those depths. But the main thing she read was hope and…love?

Her heart fluttered and she tugged on Tate again. “I mean it, Tate. Let him talk.”