Page 44 of Homebound

“What do you find relaxing now?”

“I don’t have time to relax. I need to train, but I can find someone else to work out with. I think one of the Bronc riders has some free time, but I kicked him out of my bed a few months ago, so it might be kind of awkward now.”

The last thing I want is her spending more time with some other guy. “No, I want to be here with you,” I say too eagerly, so I slow my next words. “As much as I want to be with Vi, it’s also exhausting spending every moment with a one-year-old. This is good for me. I need some time to myself. Time to…” I trail off, not sure if I want to admit this to anyone.

“Time to what?” she prods, bumping my shoulder with hers.

A gulp travels down my throat as our stares meet. Her steady eyes could always pull the truth out of me. “Time to feel like a man and not just a dad. Sometimes, it feels like my entire identity is tied to my kid. I can’t remember the last time I had a night out, but I feel bad leaving her.”

As soon as the admission falls out of my mouth, I turn my head to the pull-up bars because if there’s pity on her face, I don’t want to see it. There’s nothing better in the world than being Vi’s father, but that’s not all I want to be.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little selfish, Patterson,” she says. “If you give everything away to everyone else, you’ll have nothing left for yourself.”

My parents are always telling me to take time for myself, and I still want to have things that belong to me and only me.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I admit, and this is why I fell for her in the first place. She’s always pushing me to prioritize myself.

When she stays silent, I turn back to find her staring at me with a tilted head like she’s contemplating something.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing my hand. “I have an idea. Let’s get you showered. You deserve to have some fun this summer, so I’m taking you out as a thank-you for training me.”

“Where are we going?”

She winks at me over her shoulder. “To the General. We’re gonna have some fun tonight and find you a cowgirl to ride.”

I’m going to die in the friend zone.

17

THAT’S MY BOY!

WYATT

“No, Cruz. She’s taking me out to meet another woman tonight,” I mutter into the phone, glancing at my daughter, slapping her soapy hands in the tub. “I’m giving Vi a bath before we go.”

“Dada!” She squeals, splashing around in the bubbly water.

I reposition the phone in the crease of my neck. “Yeah, baby?”

“Dada! Duh!” she giggles, shrieking. The tingling sound warms me up from the inside. The “ck” sound is one of the last ones kids get, but I know what she wants. Her duckie.

She had a meltdown earlier because she was overtired and didn’t get her nap, so it’s nice to hear her laughing instead of screaming.

“You want your duckie? I got you, baby girl.” Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I hand her the plastic duck.

She always gets this toothy, picket-fence grin on her face during bath time. I swear she’s going to be an Olympic swimmer or something because she loves the water.

“Sorry, she wanted her duckie,” I explain.

“No worries,” Cruz says. “Hey, is she walking yet?”

I clench my teeth, watching her splash in the tub. I’ve been debating calling her pediatrician to see if I should be concerned, but my parents are telling me not to worry, and I don’t want to helicopter over her.

Realistically, I know every child develops at their own pace, but I keep watching, waiting every second for her to take those first steps. I mean, she’s over a year old. She should be walking by now, right?

I don’t fucking know.

“Not yet,” I say. “But she did pull herself up on the coffee table, fell, and hit her head.”