Free A Dad for Her Twins by Lois Richer

“Why?”
    â€œBecause Ivor’s as worn out as you. Look at him.” He inclined his head in the direction of the bereaved boy. “He needs to get out of here.”
    Abby was about to protest. But then she observed the way Ivor forced a smile to his lips as one after another of his parents’ friends came to speak to him. When one woman threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, Ivor’s eyes met Abby’s and she saw something she thought was desperation creep in. He endured the embrace for a second longer before he drew away, struggling to mask his emotions.
    â€œDid he tell you he wants to leave?” she asked Cade.
    â€œHe didn’t have to. I can tell from his body language that he wants out of here. I’m going to have to do something to initiate that. Excuse me.” Cade strode purposefully across the room. He said something to the crowd surrounding Ivor, then drew him away.
    Abby had felt Cade’s withdrawal the moment they’d left the ranch for town. It was much like Max’s withdrawal from her when his PTSD had overtaken his nights and she’d been unable to help him.
    Cade’s withdrawal had increased through the afternoon and nothing she’d done had alleviated it, either. Abby had already gathered he was uncomfortable around the townsfolk and wondered at the reasons. Maybe that’s why it seemed all the more touching when Cade rescued Ivor with everyone watching.
    As Cade now spoke to Ivor, a kindly look softened his expression. Whatever he said brought a wash of relief to the boy’s face. Ivor nodded and then strode to the food table where he picked up a steaming cup and two sandwiches wrapped in a napkin and carried them toward Abby.
    â€œCade said you need these.” He set the food on a chair beside her.
    So he’d been thinking of her, too. How kind of him.
    â€œIs that tea?” At his nod, Abby took the cup, sipped from it and sighed. “He was right.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”
    â€œYou’d better eat something, too. Cade said we’re leaving soon.” He inclined his head toward the sandwiches, then sat down on her other side.
    â€œIt’s been a long day for you.” She touched his shoulder, drawing his attention from the tall, lean rancher. “Are you okay?”
    â€œI don’t know. It’s weird. I know they’re gone but I keep expecting to...” Ivor shook his head and gulped. “I’m fine,” he muttered.
    â€œAfter my parents died,” she told him, dredging up the memory because it might help Ivor, “it took me forever to stop reaching for the phone to call them when something happened in my life.”
    â€œAnd your husband, Max?”
    â€œWhen Max died, I thought I’d died, too. Sometimes I still feel like that.” Abby forced a smile and ignored the familiar rush of guilt. “You’ll always miss your parents, but I promise that it will get easier after a while,” she said softly.
    Ivor stared at her for a few minutes before he nodded, then turned away. He said nothing. Abby picked up a sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. Her gaze returned to Cade, who was now speaking with Mayor Marsha. Whatever he was saying, the mayor obviously agreed, for she clapped a hand on his shoulder and nodded her head wholeheartedly.
    She moved quickly around the room like a practiced politician, saying something here, chuckling at something there. Moments later Abby noticed that people began to drift out of the community hall. Abby knew Cade had asked Marsha to encourage that.
    â€œTime for us to go.” He held out Abby’s coat, waiting for her to slide her arms into it.
    It felt good to slip her coat on without struggling, to feel the comfort of Cade’s hands on her shoulders, settling the garment there before he drew away his fingers. It seemed like forever since she’d felt so protected.
    Surprised by that thought, she