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  “That’s Jet all right. He’s a good dog,” Kyle said. “Sweet—too sweet for his own good.”

  She nodded, rubbing the dog’s stomach. “I know all about you, too. Chad said Jet was in a pretty sorry state when he found him? Said he was skin-and-bones, treated poorly, and begging for food.”

  “Pretty much. Chad couldn’t take it.” Kyle chuckled. “He snuck Jet a treat and that was it. The dog followed him around like a shadow.”

  She cradled the dog’s head in her hands, staring into Jet’s timid chocolate-brown eyes. “He sure loved you.” Once Jet had appeared, there’d been a difference in Chad’s letters. He might have saved the dog from starving, but Jet had given Chad something good to focus on.

  Skylar was incredibly grateful for the dog and Needle. They’d given Chad the support and love he’d needed when she couldn’t. She’d always hoped Jet would come back with him once his tour was up—that Needle and Chad would laugh and share stories over a dinner she’d cooked for them. That’s what she’d wanted. Her husband back. The future they’d always talked about. Hope and love and joy.

  Instead, her days consisted of making the best of things and putting on a brave face for her daughters...

  Jet rolled over, stood up and leaned forward to sniff Greer, sound asleep in her front pack. He whimpered, his tail going even faster, and his head cocking to one side.

  “Momma?” Brynn’s voice was soft, almost breathless. “Who that?”

  Skylar turned, holding out her hand to her daughters. “Brynn, Mya, come meet someone special.”

  * * *

  Kyle Mitchell had been dreading this—all of it. He’d known coming face-to-face with the woman Chad had loved and acting like it wasn’t his fault that Chad was dead would be a challenge. He hadn’t known how much.

  He’d taken one look at Skylar Davis and his words were stuck in his throat.

  He’d seen pictures of her before. She was pretty—more than pretty. But this woman was harder than the woman in the pictures. Sadder, too.

  Because she’d lost her husband.

  “Brynn. Mya.” Skylar stood and waved the two little girls forward. “This is Daddy’s friend, Mr. Mit—”

  “Kyle.” He squatted in front of the girls. “Who are you?”

  “Brynn.” The little girl pointed at her chest. “That’s Mya.” She put her hand on the other little girl’s shoulder. “We twins.”

  “I can see that.” The only difference between the girls was their hair. Brynn’s was longer, Mya’s cut at her jawline. Looked like Brynn was the talker of the two. He remembered Chad saying Mya was the funny one. Maybe she was just shy around strangers. One thing was certain, they were the cutest things he’d ever seen. Even cuter than their pictures. “This is Jet.”

  Jet was basically circling the girls, tail wagging and trembling with excitement, so happy he didn’t know what to do. Which was a good thing, since Jet belonged to Skylar and her girls.

  “Jet.” Kyle patted the ground at his side.

  Jet ran up, ears drooping, and sat, his gaze bouncing between the girls.

  “Nice?” Brynn asked.

  “Very.” Kyle nodded. “Right now, he’s trying not to give you dog kisses. And lots of them.”

  “Why?” Brynn asked, smiling at the dog. “Kisses good.”

  “You can pet him,” Kyle said. “He wants to be friends.”

  “Momma?” Brynn asked.

  Skylar nodded. “Help Mya.”

  Brynn took Mya’s hand but Mya pulled away, shaking her head.

  “No?” Brynn asked.

  Mya shook her head again.

  Skylar knelt between her daughters, one hand steadying the sleeping baby against her chest. “Mya. It’s okay. Jet is a nice dog.” She ran a hand over Jet’s head, earning a look of pure adoration from the dog. “Dog.” Skylar slapped her hand against her thigh and then made a snapping gesture. “Dog.”

  Mya nodded but she didn’t make a move to touch Jet. Or say a word.

  “She scared,” Brynn said, the hand holding her sister’s tightening. “Lots.”

  Kyle nodded, watching the exchange. “Looks like she’s got you to help her with that.” Being the second of three sons made him an expert on sibling diplomacy. Granted, neither of his brothers were shy like Mya, but he was all too familiar with translating the long silence of one brother for the other.

  Mya slipped behind Skylar’s legs, content to hide. Brynn wasn’t hiding. She was almost as excited about petting Jet as Jet was. Her little face lit up with the sweetest smile as she slowly reached her hand out toward the dog.

  Jet couldn’t take it. He dropped to the ground and rolled over again, his tail stirring up a mini dust storm from all his excitement.

  Brynn thought it was hilarious. Mya was smiling, too.

  “He’s a silly dog,” Kyle said, rubbing Jet’s stomach. “But he’s a good friend.” Exactly what Chad had wanted for his girls. He’d hoped Jet would give his little girls some comfort and love. Kyle only wished he could have gotten Jet to them sooner.

  Brynn sat, her legs stretched out in the dirt, while Jet tummy-crawled closer and closer—until his nose was pressed against one of her legs.

  “Jet,” Brynn said, giggling. “Nice dog.”

  Jet decided that was an invitation to move a little closer to rest his head in Brynn’s lap and stare up at the little girl.

  “Hi,” Brynn said, pointing at her chest. “I Brynn.”

  Jet continued to stare up at her.

  The two of them together? Pretty damn adorable. Kyle used to tease Chad about how much he was like his dog—they were easy to love and impossible to ignore.

  “How about that cold drink now?” Skylar asked, taking Mya’s hand and standing. “Come on, Brynn, you can bring Jet.”

  “Unca?” Brynn asked, not moving from her spot.

  “Uncle won’t mind.” Skylar tried to sound convincing, but even Kyle wasn’t buying it. “It’s not every day we have visitors.”

  Probably because they lived in the middle of nowhere. He was familiar with West Texas but there were none of the rugged buttes and landforms of the picturesque Old West films here. Instead, there were thickets of mesquite trees covered in thick purple-tipped thorns. The little groundcover was an occasional patch of scrub grass intermixed with abundant flat-leaf prickly pear cactus, covered with near-invisible hairlike thorns. A quick appraisal told him if it wasn’t covered in dirt, it was pointy to the touch.

  “How long have you lived out here?” he asked, following Skylar and her children to the door.

  “Awhile.” She glanced his way but didn’t add anything more. “Frank?” She opened the door and peered inside. “Uncle Frank?”

  “In the kitchen making my own lunch,” Frank answered, clearly irritated. “Why is he still here? Why are you still here?” He gestured with his half a sandwich.

  “I invited him in, Uncle Frank,” Skylar said. “It’s hot outside, too hot for conversation. Kyle, this is my uncle, Frank Kline. Uncle Frank, this is Kyle Mitchell.”

  Her uncle made a grunting sound, scowling at Jet.

  “What can I get you?” Skylar asked, skirting around her uncle to get into the small kitchen. “Water? Lemonade?”

  “We’re out of beer,” Frank said, shooting Skylar an accusatory look.

  “It’s a little early for a beer, but thanks.” Kyle smiled, taking care not to react to his surroundings. Nothing about this made sense. The place was tiny and, while clean, in need of some serious repair. Why was Skylar here? Chad’s death would have left her entitled to some money. Not a lot, but enough that she shouldn’t have to be here. Where did they sleep? From where he stood, all he could see was one bedroom.

  “It’s never too early for a beer,” Frank snapped, grabbed his plate, and stomped to the back of the house—where a door slammed
shut.

  “Water would be good,” Kyle said, inspecting the far wall covered in brightly laminated posters. Most of the pictures were hands, making various signs... Sign language.

  “Use my cup, Momma,” Brynn said, sitting on the floor and patting the spot at her side until Jet lay down, leaning against her. “Jet. I like you.”

  Mya headed into the kitchen, tugged on Skylar’s pants, and tapped three fingers—fanned wide—to her mouth. Kyle glanced back and forth from Mya to one of the posters. According to the illustrations, Mya had made the sign for water.

  “I’ll get you some water, too.” Skylar smiled, stooping to kiss her daughter on the head.

  Mya tapped her fingers against her lip and pulled her hand back.

  He glanced at the posters again. Thank you. That was the sign for thank you.

  “You’re welcome.” Skylar filled a pink plastic cup with water and gave it to Mya. “Ice?” she asked him.

  “I won’t say no.” He nodded. Even inside, it was warm. From the looks of it, the small window unit was working extra hard to crank out enough cold air to cool the room.

  Skylar pulled a teal-and-peach cup from the cabinet, added ice and water, and handed it to him. “Brynn wanted you to use her cup.”

  Kyle eyed the cup. The outside was clear, the inner plastic teal. But between the clear plastic and the teal was an ocean scene—complete with plastic fish and glitter and shells that moved when he tipped the glass to drink. “That’s some sparkly cup.”

  “Princess,” Brynn said. “Princess cup.”

  He held the cup out. “It does look like a princess cup.”

  Brynn nodded, her expression so serious he couldn’t help but smile.

  “Brynn likes princesses,” Skylar said.

  “What about Mya?” he asked, sitting in the kitchen chair she indicated.

  Mya was sitting on the floor beside her sister, sipping water from her pink cup—her big brown eyes fixed on Jet.

  “Mya likes llamas and horses,” Brynn said, lying on the floor beside Jet.

  Mya sat her cup down and lay down, too, closing her eyes when Jet wedged himself between them—making little grunts of happiness. Mya didn’t open her eyes but she was finally grinning.

  Skylar’s gaze collided with his and they exchanged a smile. She reached behind herself to unbuckle the reverse backpack thing that held baby Greer.

  Kyle thought it looked kind of like a kangaroo pouch. Pretty handy.

  “Mya like llamas and horses and baby cows, too.” Skylar eased the straps free, smiling down at the sleeping baby. “What do you think Greer will like, Brynn?”

  Now that Greer was free of her pouch, she looked awfully small. Kyle didn’t have much experience with babies, but he hadn’t imagined they’d be so...tiny. He hadn’t noticed the crib in the corner until Skylar slowly bent forward to place the tiny Greer inside.

  He was sizing up the house all over again. Did they all sleep here? In the living room? If that’s what it was called. It was more like one room, the only separation between the kitchen and living room was the seam where the linoleum ended and the brown carpet began. Carpet that was frayed and stained. Try as he might, he couldn’t help but notice the buckling linoleum countertops, the water stain on the ceiling, and a whole slew of things that needed fixing. “Do you all stay here?”

  He had more questions than that. A lot of questions. But it was a start. Delivering Jet wasn’t the only thing Chad had asked of him. Kyle had promised to make sure Skylar and the girls were taken care of—always. He was pretty sure Chad wouldn’t have been happy about this. Any of it. He sure as hell wasn’t.

  Skylar must have caught his not-so-subtle inspection of the house because she said, “We stay in the trailer behind the house.”

  He felt like an ass. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay.” She stretched her arms and shoulders. “More water?”

  “Please.” He stood, wanting to get a glimpse of the trailer Skylar and the girls called home and dreading what he’d find. He peered through the blinds covering one of the windows on the back wall. Other than a rusted-out truck and a pile of metal and car parts, all he could see was a travel trailer. A travel trailer that listed forward at an odd angle, rust stains and plywood covering part of the roof.

  Well, hell.

  He’d hoped this visit would be quick. The plan had been simple. Get Jet to his new home, make sure Chad’s family was okay, and head for his family ranch in the Hill Country and get to living. But now? Chad would never forgive him if he drove away and left Skylar and the girls here. Hell, he’d never forgive himself. I let you down once, Chad. I won’t do it again.

  Chapter Two

  “Want something else? Coffee?” Skylar whispered. Since the girls had dozed off, they’d managed to keep their voices to a low murmur—even if that had kept conversation to a minimum.

  Kyle shook his head, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He sat, all hunched up, making the 1970s’-style yellow-padded linoleum chairs look doll-size. “I’m good.”

  “Won’t your family be missing you?” She took a sip of her water. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you home. Eager for a reunion with your kids? Wife?” The last thing she wanted to do was keep the man from his family.

  “No wife.” He shrugged, cleared his throat. “No kids. My family doesn’t know I’m back. I’ll get there when I get there.” His gaze swept over the child-friendly sign language posters the pediatric audiologist had mailed to them.

  Considering they were the only things hanging on any of the walls, they were hard to miss. Frank had grumbled about it, complaining about her making holes in the drywall, but she’d put them up anyway. Mya had had some words when she lost her hearing, but she was shy about using them. So Skylar did her best to give Mya access to every communication avenue available. Once Skylar had a job and reliable day care, Mya could have cochlear implant surgery. Like finding a veterinary-tech job that could provide enough money to pay for childcare, a place to live, and set money aside for the surgery was easy...

  She glanced back at Kyle Mitchell—who was carefully studying the posters, the muscle in his jaw working.

  “Is your family from these parts, originally?” Kyle asked, softly.

  She shook her head. “I think my uncle moved out here about three years ago.”

  He looked at her, one brow raised.

  “I was confused, too.” Skylar laughed. “It’s not exactly the sort of place you dream about retiring to.” But it was the perfect place to disappear. Her uncle had never come right out and said he was hiding from someone, but Skylar suspected as much.

  “You said it, not me.” The corner of Kyle’s mouth cocked up. “Can I ask why?”

  “I only know what he’s told me.” She shrugged. “Sometimes, that’s not as straightforward as you’d think.” Like when he’d convinced her that she should put him on her bank account in case something happened to her. Chad had just died, Mya had been in the hospital, she was into her third trimester with Greer, and she’d been so close to coming apart that she’d never stopped to consider possible consequences. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined her uncle would empty her account. He’d bet it—all of it. And lost. Everything.

  “Skylar...” He hesitated, his fingers tapping on the tabletop. “Are things, well, are you and the girls okay here?”

  She stood, clearing the cups and fidgeting in the kitchen until the sharp sting in her eyes and the lump in her throat were manageable. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  He sort of unfolded himself from his chair, carried Brynn’s princess cup to the counter and slid it to her. “Instinct.” His eyes met hers. “Hasn’t failed me yet.”

  She searched for some sort of neutral yet reassuring answer. When that didn’t work, she stood there, staring into his eyes. “You have one b
lue eye and one brown eye.” How had she not noticed that?

  He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Chad said you were a veterinary technician?” He glanced at the girls, now an overlapping pile of dog and little girls, and smiled. “You work at a clinic out here? Somewhere?”

  She started washing the cups, careful to avoid direct eye contact. “No.” She hadn’t worked since Mya got sick. Not that he needed to know her sorry tale. He’d come all this way so the girls could visit Jet. For some reason, it was important that he not think of her as...needy or vulnerable or trapped. Worse, that she’d lost everything because of her own naivety. This was her fault, after all.

  “I guess it’s hard to find work out here?” he asked.

  “You could say that. Flat Brush doesn’t have a clinic but the vet from Amarillo comes through every now and then. Which is fine, since we don’t have a pet.” She washed and dried their cups. “I know the girls would love it, seeing them with Jet...” She broke off, then shook her head. “It would be one more thing for me to take care of.”

  He nodded, his fingers tapping on the countertop now. “What about—”

  “What the hell are you still doing here?” Frank boomed, throwing open his bedroom door so hard it crashed into the wall.

  She winced. “Uncle Frank, the kids—” But it was too late.

  Greer started wailing immediately.

  Brynn woke, sniffling and disoriented, working herself up quickly, too.

  Even poor Jet looked ready to hide.

  Mya slept on, blessedly unaware of the chaos that had erupted.

  “Can’t a man get any peace and quiet in his own house?” her uncle barked, covering his ears for added production value. “Why don’t you take the girls outside? Or to your trailer?”

  She couldn’t risk running the AC if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, it had to last. Frank knew that. He also knew that Skylar wouldn’t snap back at him because of Brynn. Brynn was so sensitive, more so since Mya had lost her hearing. It was up to her to keep things calm for the girls. If that meant walking on eggshells and swallowing her anger, she would. Sometimes that was easier than others.