Page 9 of High Frequency

Shaking my head, I return my attention to grooming my horse.

“Didn’t realize how much ’til she bailed on me right after my mother died.” I toss down the straw and remove Will’s bridle, opening the stall door for him. “Then I got pissed when she ignored me, not responding to messages or texts.”

“You’re still pissed,” Wolff concludes.

“Fuck yeah,” I respond, closing the door and grabbing the saddle. “She took off without a word, was gone for eight years, and suddenly she’s back. Damn right I’m pissed.”

Then I return my gear to the tack room and almost bump into Wolff when I walk back out. He blocks my path.

“Means you still care,” he imparts, not giving me a chance to counter before he steps around me.

I dismiss his comment and walk out back to grab one of the utility ATVs, so I can check on the guys doing repairs to the fencing on the north pasture. But throughout the afternoon, his words keep playing through my mind.

When I return to the ranch at the end of the day, I catch sight of the dark red Jeep I now know belongs to Sloane. What the fuck is she doing here?

I return the ATV and instead of hitting up the big house for an early dinner, as I’d intended, I start walking toward my cabin. I probably have a couple of eggs I can fry for dinner—that’s about the extent of my culinary skills—but I’m not in the right frame of mind for a confrontation with her.

Unfortunately, that choice is taken from me when she steps out the front door just as I pass by the steps up to the porch. She freezes when she spots me, and I come to a dead stop when I notice she’s carrying a car seat.

It’s like time is suspended and all the air is sucked from my lungs.

A punch of sharp pain hits my gut the moment my brain processes what I’m looking at.

A baby?Sloane?

“Hey, Dan,” she says in a soft voice, moving to the top of the steps.

My eyes are fixed on the white bundle packed in the carrier. I can’t see more than a little bit of a forehead and a shock of dark hair peeking out.

“This is my daughter, Aspen,” she explains, brushing the blanket out of the way to reveal a small, sleeping baby.

Then I let my eyes crawl up Sloane’s body and register the added curve to her hips and fullness of her breasts. I thought she was beautiful eight years ago when she was bordering on thin, but with that body filled out in lush curves she’s a fucking knockout.

My body’s response to her feels like another goddamn betrayal, and I don’t even bother keeping the anger out of my voice.

“Congrats. Hope you’re happy.”

With that I turn my back and focus on my cabin, forcing myself to walk and not run.

Four

Sloane

“I’m sorry, what?”

I wince at her tone.

Anger, I could’ve handled, but the shocked hurt in her voice is so much worse. I’m instantly overwhelmed with guilt and wrecked with second-guessing.

“What is it?”I hear Steve’s voice in the background.

“You’re a grandmother, Mom. Her name is Aspen,” I clarify before adding, “She’s four months old.”

I hear a gasp, and then a brief rustling, before Steve’s voice demands to know, “What the hell is going on? Who is this?”

“It’s me, Steve.”

“Sloane? What happened? Why is your mother crying?”