Page 4 of Take Me Home

I clear my throat. “I wanted to let you know I’ve decided to meet Hank. I’m flying out to Montana as soon as I get everything booked.”

My mother gasps. “I beg you not to tell Hank.” She grabs a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabs at her eyes. “Why bring him into this? It would just stir up trouble. I’ve given you a good life.”

I sigh heavily. “Mother, he deserves to know, and I deserve to meet him.”

The tears are back, and I stand, not wanting to hear any more of this. My mother stands too and grabs onto my hand.

“Let me go.” I wait for her to comply. My mother is manipulative but not physically aggressive.

She releases me, and we stare at each other in a silent standoff. Looking at my mother, I know her lie has irrevocably changed our relationship.

I stand there, unsure how to fix this. Unsure if I’ll ever trust my mother again. Finally, I turn and walk away from her, heading back through the kitchen and out the back door. I never even finished my coffee.

My stomach twists with every step I take toward the barn. I wish meeting Hank didn’t make me feel guilty, like I’m betraying the woman who raised me, purchased Oakley, sent me to Princeton, and hired the most renowned show jumping instructor. Even the house I live in is one of the many properties she inherited from my grandparents.

My head pounds with a heaviness I’ve never known…with an overwhelming weight of everything closing in on me, my life coming apart at every turn.

CHAPTER 2

Lincoln

It’s the ass crack of dawn, and I’m tiptoeing around my own damn house to ensure I don’t wake my sleeping nephew or my sister. I’m not sure who’d be grumpier…the five-year-old or his mother.

I ease down the creaky steps of the old farmhouse, already dressed in my work jeans, a thick flannel, and wool socks. I look like an idiot hopping down the hallway toward the front door, avoiding the creakiest areas of the wood floor. I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it to the door, slipping on my boots before grabbing my cowboy hat off the hook and dropping it onto my head—and noting for the millionth time how my hair hangs out the back and I need a haircut. But when you’re the right-hand man and farrier for a large ranch, and helping your younger siblings run a small farm, there’s no time for haircuts.

Maybe Poppy can take the clippers and buzz it like last time.

My phone pings in my pocket and I grimace at the high-pitched sound, yanking my phone out of my pocket and turning it to silent mode as I read the missed text.

“Shit,” I whisper. “I forgot again.”

The group chat I have with my two friends is blowing up.

Owen

Linc, did you stand us up?

Jackson

Yeah, I feel like a cheap hooker, man.

Owen

Please tell me there’s at least a good reason you’re missing breakfast again…like a beautiful woman?

Jackson

Owen, he lives with his siblings and his nephew.

Owen

Right. Damn. So, no good excuses then?

Yanking my heavy Carhartt coat on and slipping out the front door, I latch it as quietly as possible behind me, then type out a short response.

Linc

Sorry guys. It’s a heavy workday at the ranch, and I completely forgot about breakfast. I’ll make it next week.