Chapter Eighteen

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Seventeen weeks after Lee's death.

Alex slowly walked down the stairs, pulling her hair up and wrapping a tie around it. She could smell breakfast and felt her stomach rumble. Walking into the dining room, she saw John sitting at the table alone.

"Morning," John eyed her, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Morning," Alex took her seat and scooted the chair closer. "I'm the first one?"

"Kayce's out at his truck," John said. "Haven't seen anyone else."

Alex nodded her head, pulling her napkin into her lap.

"What's on your agenda for today?" John asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Um...I think I'm going out to the second cabin y'all are building with the crew," Alex picked at her nail with her other hand. "Just in case."

"How's it coming?" John took a sip of his coffee. "Haven't been out there in...damn, it's been at least a month."

"It looked good," Alex nodded. "The snow will halt things, so as long as they can get through most of it then by the time we thaw out in spring it'll be near complete."

"Good," John nodded.

The front door opened and shut, footsteps were heard before Kayce appeared. Alex breathed a sigh of relief once Kayce placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed a good morning kiss to her temple before sitting down in between Alex and John.

"I gotta go to Darby today," Kayce looked at Alex.

"Oh?" Alex was a bit surprised.

Kayce hadn't been gone much the past week. With Tate...and Monica...being here he had stuck close to the ranch for the most part. Alex hadn't minded, it was nice to see Kayce for lunch or at a random time in the afternoon.

"Got a call," Kayce poured himself some coffee. "Shouldn't take too long."

"Be careful," Alex said as she watched him take a sip.

"What's in Darby?" John asked and the two looked over at him. "If you don't mind me interrupting your moment."

"Horse thieves," Kayce eyed him. "Know anything about that?"

"Why would I?" John laughed.

"It's your pal, Jim Berrington," Kayce cleared his throat.

"That man is a lot of things," John sighed. "But he is not my pal."

Gator walked in with a casserole in each hand, setting them on the table. They smelled good, steam rising from them since they were brought right out of the oven.

"Thanks, Gator," John said.

"Tate and Monica not coming down?" Gator asked the same question he had asked every day this week.

"Here," Monica's voice was sharp.

She and Tate walked in, around the table to sit across from Alex and Kayce. Tate smiled at everyone, and Alex found herself wishing she could be more like the kid.

"Morning," John eyed them. "What do you say to helping me out today, grandson?"

"What're we doing?" Tate asked his grandpa.

"Need to go down to the stables later and take some inventory," John smiled. "Could use a hand."

"Mom?" Tate looked at Monica.

"Sure," Monica reached out and ran her hand through Tate's hair. "Just be careful."

"Sure is nice having you here," John told Tate and Alex didn't miss the fact John didn't say 'both of you.'

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