Home for Good. Jessica Keller

never have wanted that.

      Across the field, Kate and Chance picked their way toward her.

      “...but then one day we were sent on this mission and—”

      She cut him off. “That’s great, Jericho. Sounds like life without us worked out just fine for you. Our lives have been good without you, too. I got some schooling and started a nonprofit that I really care about.” She rose, hoping he’d follow suit.

      “Without us?” He took the blankets from her arms.

      “What?” Her tongue raced against the back of her teeth.

      He quirked both eyebrows. “You said us, plural.”

      She pushed him away with her best glare. “Us...as in the Bitterroot Valley, your dad, the people here in Montana that you grew up with.” Her hands shook. Almost gave it away. Foolish mouth.

      Chance’s rapid steps approached.

      “Your story, well, it doesn’t change much for me. I still want you to turn on those boots and do that walking-out bit you’re so good at.”

      “I can’t, Ali, not yet.”

      “But you said you’d leave if that’s what I wanted, and I do.”

      “I came back because I have to ask your forgiveness. And if we can, I want to fix our marriage. Be there for you like I promised nine years ago.”

      “I don’t want that.”

      “Hey, Mom! You found Jericho!” Chance frolicked around the two adults.

      “How were the sparklers, buddy?” She dropped down and pulled her son into her arms.

      Chance’s gaze flew to Jericho, and his cheeks colored. The little imp wiggled free. “They were great. My friend Michael told this girl Samantha that he was going to put a sparkler in her hair and light it on fire. But Kate told him that someday he’ll be sorry he ever talked to girls that way.”

      “I’m sure he will be.” Still on her knees, she smiled.

      Chance turned toward Jericho. “You’re a guy. What do you think?”

      “I think your mom and your aunt are right. A real man is always nice to a girl.” His gaze locked on Ali. “Always.”

      Chance grabbed Jericho’s sleeve, pulling the man to his level. “Were you talking to my mom again? Do you know her?”

      Ali jumped in. “Jericho and I did know each other, but it was a really long time ago, pal. His dad’s ranch backs up to ours. We were neighbors.”

      Chance took her hand. “That’s cool, so we can share him.”

      Behind him, Kate attempted to hide a laugh with a cough.

      “Hey, Jericho, it’s my birthday in two days. Will you come to my party? Looks like you already know where our house is.”

      “Chance! Did you ever think Jericho might have other things to do with his time?” Ali’s eyes widened. Please let Jericho have something to do that day.

      Jericho spread out his arms and let a low, rumbling laugh escape his lips. “I’ll be there, champ. I’m free.”

      “Then will you promise to teach me to ride a ewe?” The child’s eyes lit up, hands clasped together.

      Jericho rose. He rubbed his jaw and looked to Ali. She shook her head. “I think you’re too big for mutton bustin’. The kids who do that are five or six.”

      Chance crossed his arms. “It’s not fair. Our ranch hand, Rider, won’t teach me. Now you won’t, either.”

      “I could teach you something else. How about roping? Do you know how to lasso a steer? ’Cause that’s loads harder than riding sheep.”

      “You promise you’ll come teach me?”

      “I’ll bring the dummy steer and everything.” Jericho smiled down at Ali’s son, and her heart squeezed—with panic or tenderness, though, she couldn’t be sure. One thing she knew—Jericho Freed was back in her life, whether she wanted him there or not.

      Chapter Three

      Scientific research said mint-and-tan-painted walls were supposed to soothe her, but each step Ali took toward her mother’s room weighed her down like shuffling through deep mud. She nodded to other residents of the facility as they teetered down the hallway, gripping the railing that ran waist-level throughout the nursing home. She clutched her purse against her stomach. Mom didn’t belong here. People in their fifties shouldn’t be stuck like this.

      Paces away from Mom’s door, Ali leaned against the wall and sucked in a fortifying breath. It stung her throat with the artificial smells of bleach and cafeteria food. She pulled the paper out of her purse and read it again.

      

      

      I saw you together at the Independence Day picnic. If you value what’s important to you, you’ll stay away from him. You’ve been warned.

      

      

      Ali didn’t know whether she should run to the police department or laugh. The glued-on magazine letters looked straight out of a cheesy television crime show. But was the threat serious? Who would leave such a thing tacked to her front door? Thankfully, her head ranch hand, Rider, found it before Chance woke up. Her son could pretend bravado, but with something like this, he would have dissolved into a puddle of tears.

      She racked her mind, tallying a list of the people she remembered seeing at the picnic yesterday. Not one of them would have cared in the least if they saw her speaking with Jericho. Who wanted to keep them apart? Not that she minded. That’s what she wanted anyway, right? All the more reason to steer clear of the man, but it grated to be threatened.

      Unless... No, it couldn’t be. Abram Freed had never been fond of his son’s attachment to her, but she’d made her peace with the cantankerous cowboy years after Jericho left. Besides, with the paralysis on the right side of his body, the man couldn’t move—he lay in a bed here in the same nursing home as her mother. He couldn’t harm her, and he’d keep her secret about Chance, too.

      A nurse wearing a teal smock broke into her thoughts. “You gonna go in and say howdy to your ma?”

      “Hi, Sue. How’s Mom doing today?”

      The nurse’s blond eyebrow rose. “No disrespect, but your ma’s the most ornery patient we have. But we don’t mind none. She’s a fighter at that. I think most people would be gone already with what she’s got, but she just keeps hanging right on.”

      Ali gave a tight-lipped smile. “She’s a handful.”

      Jamming the menacing letter back into her purse, she smoothed down her shirt and ran a hand over her hair before entering her mother’s room. The sight of Marge Silver—weak with pale skin hanging in long droops off her arms and a map of premature wrinkles covering her face as she whistled air in and out through the oxygen nosepiece—always made Ali’s knees shake a little bit.

      “How you feeling, Ma?” She came to the side of the bed. Ali felt a deep emptiness. Her mom’s eyes stared back, cold and hopeless. Shut off, like her spirit had already given up.

      “Dying... Been better.” The words wheezed out, stilting every time the oxygen infused.

      Ali crossed her arms and buried her balled-up fists deep in her armpits. She wanted to take her mother’s hand in both of hers, but she knew better. Never one to show affection, her mother wouldn’t have considered the touch comforting. “You aren’t dying.”

      “Want to.... Nothing left...here.”

      “You know that’s not true. There is Kate and me and Chance.”

      “Not