Free Winter's End by Ruth Logan Herne

tough, we’re tight. We’re DeHollanders, remember?”
    She forced a half smile.
    “You smell like a horse. Might want to shower before you bust in on Dad. His nose is sensitive.”
    “Okay.”
    Would they be all right? Marc pondered the question as Jess hurried upstairs.
    I’ve no idea, Jess, but I’ll do my best.
    They’d figure it out. The thought of coming into the house, day after day, without his father’s presence, chilled him. Not just the responsibility of Jess and the cattle. The feed store, quiet midwinter, but churning from March through Christmas.
    The loss of a man so dear and defining. Could they survive that and remain a unit? Jess was growing up, she’d be off to college, then what? Marriage? Career?
    I don’t know, Jess. I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep,but I’ll try, little sister. I’ll try my best to do right by you, no matter what happens. We’re family, bound by blood. Nothing can break those ties.
    I love you, kid.

Chapter Eight
    “I ’ve got two words to say to you, Kayla.”
    Kayla looked up from the supply closet. “Yes?” J. T. Donnelson grinned. “Hubba hubba.”
    Kayla frowned. “That’s not a word, J.T., much less two.” She hoisted her tote. “And if it were, I’d still have no idea what you meant.”
    “Come on, girl,” J.T. implored. J.T. had taken up hospice care because she hated the confines of hospital hierarchy. Roaming the countryside worked well for her and she was great with patients. “You’re hip to hip with Marc DeHollander two days a week. The guy is significant eye candy.”
    A burr formed between Kayla’s shoulder blades. “That family’s hit a rough road, and Marc’s carrying the brunt. He’s got a lot on his plate.”
    She didn’t add that he thought her a witless blonde. Some things were best kept private.
    J.T. shook her head. “He’s had a full plate for a long time.” She raised her brows in sympathy. “He wasn’t like this when he was young.” Seeing Kayla’s look, she continued, “We had classes together in high school. Marc was cool. A real heartthrob. Once his mother took off, he got an attitude.”
    Curiosity got the best of Kayla. “Why’d she leave?”
    “Didn’t like the farm. My mother always said there wassomething different about her. That you never knew what to expect. She was beautiful. And had great clothes. Mom used to say she’d be happy with half the clothes Arianna DeHollander gave away each year.”
    “Really?” Kayla tried to imagine Pete with a woman like that. Picturing what life must have been like with an infant and an angry teen, her sympathy doubled. “It’s hard on kids when a parent leaves. Tough on the remaining parent, too.”
    “Oh, yeah.” J.T. eased away from the wall. “But Marc and Mr. D. have done a great job with Jess. She looks like her mom.”
    “I figured as much,” Kayla replied as they approached the exit. “She doesn’t resemble her brother and he’s the spitting image of Pete.”
    “And speaking of that brother,” J.T. intoned, “give him my regards, will you? Tell him I’m free Saturday night. And Sunday night. Friday, too, from the looks of things.”
    Kayla laughed. “I’ll tell him no such thing. I don’t think he knows if he’s coming or going half the time. I’m sure he’ll be spending Saturday night with his father.”
     
    Craig and Sarah Macklin’s doorbell chimed Saturday night precisely at six.
    “I’ll get it,” Kayla called up the stairs. Craig was offering veterinary advice online and Sarah was changing a shirt that had been burped on. Kayla scooped up McKenna and padded to the door in her socks.
    Marc looked as surprised as Kayla felt, but he recovered faster. Sweeping her a look, he stepped in and shut the door against the frigid night. “Someone sick?”
    Kayla clutched McKenna tighter. “No. I came for supper.”
    “Ah.” Marc shrugged off his leather bomber jacket and hung it on a rack of pegs. The ever-present flannel had