The Cowboy's Twin Surprise. Stephanie Dees

filled the beds that lined the walkway.

      The screen door opened and his older brother Tanner stepped out in his dusty boots. Right away, Devin knew from the look in Tanner’s eyes this wasn’t going to be a prodigal son welcome. No warm embraces. No parties thrown on his behalf. He nodded, to himself, mostly. A firm let’s-get-on-with-it nod.

      Devin picked up the cane he had to use now that his pain wasn’t dulled by drugs. He slid off the old leather seat, relief flooding his body when his feet touched the ground.

      Home.

      Tanner’s blue eyes searched Devin’s for signs that he was using, and Devin felt a pang of regret. With a barely suppressed sigh, Tanner pulled the door open wide. “Come on in. I’ve got coffee on.”

      Devin followed his brother into the farmhouse, noting the threadbare rug on the floor and the worn leather couch, still the same one from when they were kids. Although they’d never been wealthy, they’d gotten by, but now... It almost seemed that the ranch had aged ten years in the three since he’d seen it.

      With a practiced economy of movement, Tanner took two mugs from the cabinet by the sink and filled them with coffee. “What happened to the big fancy truck you were driving last time you were here?”

      “Sold it to pay for rehab.”

      Tanner’s eyes flicked to his. “And your horse?”

      “Left her with Lacey.”

      A dark eyebrow quirked. “Another debt?”

      “You could say that.” A memory of a brown-eyed girl with laughter in her eyes flashed in his mind. Devin took a swig of the coffee and suppressed the wish for something stronger. Because running from uncomfortable emotions was how he got himself in this mess in the first place, or at least that was what the counselor at rehab told him.

      The fatigue of the last six weeks pulled hard at him. He took off his ball cap and scrubbed a hand through hair that could use a good trim. “I’m sorry, Tanner. I don’t even know where to start to say how sorry I am.”

      Tanner still didn’t smile. “What do you want, Devin?”

      “I want to come home.”

      At his brother’s sharply expelled breath, Devin started to panic, just a little. “You sacrificed a lot for me. I know that. And I wasted the opportunities.”

      After their parents died, Tanner had finished the job of raising him. He’d scrimped and saved and bought Devin his first cutting horse. He’d been at every event from the first to the time Devin kicked loose of Red Hill Springs and everyone in it.

      Tanner crossed his arms. “If you’re wanting me to argue with you about that, you’re gonna be waiting a long time.”

      His hat literally in his hands, Devin closed his eyes and sent a wordless prayer toward Heaven before he opened them again and looked Tanner in the eyes. “I’m an addict. I’ll always be an addict, but I don’t have to be a bad person. Please give me a chance to prove I can do better.”

      “We’ve been down this road before.”

      Devin went still. There was nothing he could say or do to change his brother’s mind. Because Tanner was right. It was a familiar refrain from his teenage years—even before the drugs, Devin had struggled. They had been down this road before where Devin had begged and pleaded and unfailingly messed things up. So he waited and he wondered if there was anyone left who would take him in until he could find a job.

      Tanner didn’t tap his foot or jiggle his leg or any of the things normal people did. He simply stared into the black coffee in his cup until he reached a decision. He looked up. “I could use the help around here.”

      Devin let out all his anxiety in one pent-up breath.

      His brother held up a finger. “But there are ground rules, Dev, and if you break them, there are no second chances.”

      In the past, Devin would’ve brushed aside the bit about the rules. Ground rules were for boring people who didn’t have any fun. Now, Devin was clinging to the rules by his fingernails, just to hold on to his sobriety. He asked Tanner quietly, “What do you want me to do?”

      “One. You go to meetings every day. Two. You always tell me where you’re going to be. Three. There are no rock stars at Triple Creek Ranch. You pull your own weight.”

      It didn’t sound like much but Devin knew from experience that pulling his weight around the ranch was a full-time job. Working the farm was going to be hard with his injury but it wouldn’t be impossible.

      He could promise Tanner that he was different, that he’d matured past the kid who’d looked for approval in all the wrong places, but promises didn’t mean much. He wanted more than anything to prove to his brother that he could change. To prove to himself that he could be more than just some rodeo guy who partied a lot and nearly got himself killed. He said quietly, “Thanks, Tanner.”

      “Don’t make me regret this, Devin.” The man who’d started raising Devin when he was still practically a boy himself had a world of disappointment in his eyes. He jerked a thumb at the stairs. “You can have your old room.”

      Devin nodded. He pushed back from the table and limped onto the porch of the farmhouse. He’d run far and fast away from here when he’d turned eighteen, too big for these parts. Maybe it was fitting that when there was nothing left of him, he ran home. If he was lucky, maybe it was here that he’d find all the pieces of himself he’d lost along the way.

       Two months later

      Lacey Jenkins checked her GPS one last time as she drove through Red Hill Springs, Alabama. The flower boxes that lined the street were filled with geraniums, and American flags on the lampposts fluttered in the wind. All decked out for the upcoming Memorial Day holiday, the town was adorable, but she wasn’t having it. She’d been stewing for three and a half months now, ever since she’d woken up alone in a hotel room in Vegas, ink barely dry on a quickie marriage certificate proclaiming her married to rodeo superstar Devin Cole.

      She should’ve listened to the voice of warning in her head—the one that sounded strangely like her dad, coaching her around the barrels when she was a kid. “Ride from here, Lacey-girl,” he’d say, as he tapped his forehead under the brim of his cowboy hat. “Not from here” as he tapped his heart. “The heart will betray you. The head will lead you.” But she’d been caught up in the adventure of it all. The romance. She and Devin had been friends—best friends—for years, even as he seemed to get more and more reckless. That weekend in Vegas after the rodeo competition ended, he’d seemed more like his old self. Sweeter and more thoughtful than he’d been in a while.

      Until he’d disappeared the morning after they’d gotten married. And then, a month later, he’d had the nerve to drop off his horse for her like some kind of consolation prize.

      So yeah, if she’d been mad before, now she was boiling. He’d left her and he’d left his horse.

      Her GPS calmly announced that she’d arrived at her destination. Nerves fluttered in her stomach, a fact she noted with some irritation. She was a world champion barrel racer. She was supposed to be immune to nerves.

      Turning into the drive at the farmhouse, she slowed to look around. She had the right address, but this didn’t look anything like the bustling ranch she’d imagined as Devin had talked about it back when they were still friends. But still, there was a sunny yellow swing on the front porch with a fresh coat of paint and brightly colored zinnias filling the flower beds in front of the house.

      She eased her truck to a stop so Reggie wouldn’t be jostled. The big horse had been patient for the duration of the long trip, but he had to be as antsy as she was to get out of the truck after days on the road. She stepped out onto the gravel drive, pressing a hand into her lower back and leaning into a stretch.