Jessica Keller - Home for Good

When they got outside, he led her to her truck then turned her to face him. He rested his hands on her shoulders. His blues met her sparkling hazels as he said in a soft, low voice, “It wasn’t your fault. Your dad made a choice that day to get on that bull. He took a risk, and it turned out to be a disastrous one. But that’s all it was, an accident.”

She worked that bottom lip between her teeth. “But he would have been trucking. He wouldn’t have been at the rodeo if I hadn’t been so bent on barrel racing.”

“He loved the rodeo. I’m just sorry we were there to see it that day.”

Ali nodded in an absent way, then pushed up on his wrists. Jericho let go of her, but as he stepped back he noticed something curious. “Your tires are on their rims.”

“What? I just drove here. They were fine.” Ali turned around and then slapped her hand over her mouth.

Jericho bent down to examine the tires. Sure enough, each one bore a deep slash. Intentional. His stomach rolled. “Cut. Know why someone would want to make mincemeat of your tires?”

She dragged in a ragged breath and clutched her purse close to her chest. “Yes.”

“Well?”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t tell you.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. If you have a problem with someone, tell me and I’ll take care of it for you.”

Ali’s brows knit together. “Why would you do that?”

He stepped forward, propping a hand on the truck above her head. He leaned toward her. She was so close. If he dropped his head, he could kiss her. Taste the sweet lips he’d dreamt about for the eight years he’d been gone. He wanted to, badly. Would she meld against him like she used to, or would she slap him and run?

“Nine years ago, I made a promise to protect you. I went and made a real mess of that, but I’m back. You can call on that promise if you want to. I’ll be here for you. You hear me?”

“I’ll be fine. I just have to walk to Mahoney and Strong—Tripp’s an associate with the law firm. It’s not that far.” She looked around him toward downtown. Jealousy curled in his chest.

“I can drive you there.” He hated himself for being any part of bringing her near Tripp, but he’d just made a promise, and he’d stay true to it no matter the personal cost.

“I’ll walk.”

“It’s farther than you think, and it’s hot as blazes out here. Let me drive you.”

She shook her head.

“Can I pick you up from his office and drive you home?”

“I’m sure Tripp will drive me home. I’ll see you around.”

She brushed past him, but the sweet smell of her lingered—something flowery. Jericho walked back to his Jeep. His pop would have to wait another day or two for a reunion.

He needed to find four new tires and get them on that beastly truck before Tripp could swoop in with some kind of heroic act.

Chapter Four

With his legs tossed over the edge of the porch, Chance swung his feet, banging them against the house with the rhythm of an Indian drumbeat.

Ali leaned an elbow on the armrest of the Adirondack chair, resting her chin on her palm. “Hey, little man, cut that out.”

“Is that your truck, Mom?” He sprang to his feet and squinted in the direction of the driveway.

Her green monster of a vehicle rattled over the gravel. “Looks like it. I left my keys with Tripp, and he said he’d have someone fix the tires. That must be him.” She pushed up out of the chair and crossed to the steps.

The man climbing out from the driver’s side looked about the same size as Tripp, but that’s where the similarities ended. Ali pursed her lips.

Chance jostled past her. “Jericho!”

“Hey, bud.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Ali.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you have my truck?”

He looped his thumbs in his pockets. “You left it at the nursing home. It’s got new tires. The old ones couldn’t be saved. But these are good ones. You won’t have to put chains on them in the winter.”

“I’ll go inside and get my purse. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? The tires I had were almost bald. I priced out new ones weeks ago, and the lowest I could find from anyone was around a thousand. I can’t...won’t be able to give you all of that right now, but I can mail you the rest and—”

He shook his head. “Like I said, you don’t owe me anything. But your engine’s making an unnerving jangling noise, so I’m going to take a peek at that sometime this week.”

She thrust out her hand. “My keys.”

“Funny thing about that.” He leaned a foot on the steps and rested his hands on his knee. “I didn’t have keys so I had to hot-wire it.” He scratched his neck. “Hadn’t done that since high school. Remember how we used to drive Principal Ottman up the wall?”

Ali bit back a grin. “He never could quite figure out how he kept losing his car, or why the police kept finding it at Dairy Queen.”

Chance leaped off the last two steps, landing beside Jericho. “What’s hot-wire?”

“Well, it’s how you can drive a car if you don’t have keys. You see, first you take a screwdriver and pull the trim off the steering column. Unbolt the ignition switch, then—”

Ali cleared her throat.

Jericho’s lips twitched with the hint of a smirk. “Right. Not something you need to know, bud.”

The front door creaked, and Kate popped her head through the opening. “Al? Oh hey, Jericho. Your hot chocolate’s boiling over. I shut it off. Hope it’s not scalded.”

Ali slapped her hand over her heart. “I’d completely forgotten. Do you still want cocoa, Chance?”

Her son’s affirmation propelled her into the house. She stuck a spoon into the pan full of liquid chocolate. She brought the hot cocoa to her lips, blowing on it before tasting. “Still good.”

Kate set out three mugs. “Jericho can have my cup. I’m headed upstairs anyway.”

“He’s not staying.”

“Guess again, sis. He and Chance are already out there, cozy together on the steps. It sounds like they’re swapping tall tales.”

The ladle rattled in Ali’s hand. “He can’t stay. I don’t want him on our property, not near Chance.”

“Too late.” Kate drummed her fingers on the counter. “Did he fix your truck?”

“The tires.”

Kate let out a long, low whistle.

“And he won’t let me pay him back. Not like I have the money to anyway.”

After wishing her sister good-night, Ali hugged the three mugs of steaming cocoa to her chest and strode back outside. Chance popped up, reached for his and then hunkered back down so close that he bumped knees with Jericho. She handed a cup Jericho’s way, and his fingers slipped over hers in the exchange. Ali inhaled sharply.

He took a sip, then tipped the mug at her in a salute. “This is good.”

She wrapped an arm around her middle and looked out to the Bitterroot Mountain Range. The snowcapped peaks laughed down at the fading sunlight in the valley. The sides were blanketed in a vivid green tapestry of pines. Each canyon crag vied with the peaks for splendor. The Bitterroots calmed her. Taking them in reminded her that even when life felt topsy-turvy, purpose and beauty remained in the world.

“It’s from scratch. Mom says none of the packaged stuff in our house, right?” Chance beamed at her, a whipped cream mustache covering his top lip.

“Right.”

“Jericho told me he used to ride the broncos in the rodeo. Isn’t that cool? But he said he never rode the bulls. He said it’s too dangerous, just like you always say.”

Ali leaned her shoulder against a support beam on the porch. “Yes, Jericho used to ride the broncs. He used to rope in the rodeos, too.”