Slate wished he could be as cavalier about his father’s stubborn and standoffish personality. He could weather his dad’s storms. He didn’t want to expose Luke or Dallas to them, but both of his friends had insisted they come with him.
Secretly, Slate was glad they were coming. Beyond glad. Grateful. He’d be protected from himself if they accompanied him. He hated that he needed that protection, but the truth was, he still did.
“I just need to gather myself together,” he said. “No one can help with that.”
“Gather yourself?”
“All the bits of myself that I want to be,” he said. “Put some defenses in place against the person I used to be in Austin.” He glanced at her. “You know those are two completely different men, right?”
“You’ve said that,” she said. “I suppose I can imagine it, but no, I don’t really understand it.”
Slate couldn’t expect her to. “People change, Jill. That’s all I’m saying. Sometimes the change is so drastic that the person from before is completely unrecognizable from the person they are now.”
“Okay,” Jill said. “I once had a friend who was Little Miss Sunshine. She was always dressed in the most fashionable clothes, and her hair was always done just right, and she got straight As. A couple of years ago, I saw her on social media, and she was decked out from head to toe in black clothes, with this gothic makeup, and at least four or five piercings in her ears. One in her nose. She was unrecognizable. Like that?”
“Yes,” he said. “Like that.”
“Do you have any pictures of yourself from before?”
“No,” he said, his voice almost a bark. He tried to tame it into niceness when he added, “Even if I did, Jill, I wouldn’t show them to you. I don’t want you to know that man. Ever.”
He didn’t want to be that man ever again. He could handle going to Austin, because he wasn’t the Slate Sanders he’d been before. He wasn’t going to be that Slate again. He wasn’t. He knew better now, and he’d been through a lifetime of experiences in the four years he’d been in prison. He wasn’t a junkie anymore.
“Okay,” Jill said, her voice a little quieter than normal.
Slate looked out over the ranch, illuminated by the sun. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“You didn’t.” She looked at him, and Slate looked at her. The moment stretched, and he was glad he didn’t have to explain any further. She didn’t go on either, and he guided his horse closer to the deck so he could put down his cinnamon rolls.
“I’ll help you put the horses away,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I can do it. You have work to do.” As if on cue, Luke came out the back door, his gloves in his hands.
“There you are,” Luke said, slowing down. “You’re on a horse.”
“Birthday breakfast,” Slate said, extending the pan of cinnamon rolls toward Luke.
“I stole him for a birthday sunrise,” Jill said. “But he’s back right on time.” She grinned at Luke and then Slate. “Go on, cowboy. Hand me the reins, and I’ll get Scalloped Potato all fixed up with a big bag of oats for having to haul you around.”
Luke laughed as he took the pan of baked goods from Slate.
Slate wanted to kiss Jill again, but he reminded himself that was why he’d turned back when they were leaving the first time. He’d wanted to kiss her in private, and he wouldn’t make out with her in front of Luke, that was for dang sure. Luke already asked him endless questions about Jill as it was. He didn’t even want to tell Luke he’d kissed her.
At the same time, Slate knew he would, because he needed Luke’s help and advice when it came to women as much as Luke needed to know how Slate was feeling about Jill and how those feelings would impact Slate’s future plans.
The cabinetry apprenticeship hadn’t panned out, and Slate had tried to be sympathetic to Luke. In reality, he was sympathetic, because Luke was almost done with his re-entry program, and his desperation to find “the next stage of his life” was palpable if Slate spent more than five minutes with him.
He handed his reins to Jill and said, “Six tonight, right, sweets?”
Jill grinned down at him. “I’ll be ready at six. Good luck with your dog adoption this afternoon.”
“Thanks.” He watched her start to plod away on her horse, leading his a head or two behind.
“You’ve got it bad for her,” Luke said, a cinnamon roll in one hand and his gloves discarded on the deck railing.
“Yeah,” Slate said, still watching her and the horses. “I kissed her this morning.”
“Thatta boy,” Luke said with a grin.