72 "moms friend"

I sat on the fence line with Patsy tucked against my side, far enough away that the music softened and the crowd blurred into something quieter. The boards were warm from the sun, rough under my palms. In front of us, couples danced—slow, easy, like love didn't weigh anything at all. Hands on hips. Foreheads touching. Laughter carried on the breeze.My chest tightened. I hadn't had a single second to process what happened with Jimmy. Not the words. Not the betrayal. Not the way it all came crashing down at once. It sat heavy in my throat, the kind of hurt that makes you want to fold in on yourself. I felt tears threaten, hot and sudden. But I didn't let them fall.Instead, I watched my daughter.Patsy twirled in her dress, arms thrown out wide, curls bouncing as she spun herself dizzy. She laughed like the world was nothing but color and music and possibility. Like hearts didn't break. Like people didn't leave."Look, Mama!" she said, spinning again."I see you, baby," I whispered, forcing a smile that felt a little too tight.She was having the time of her life, and I clung to that—used it to prop myself up, to keep from sinking. If she was happy, I could be okay. I had to be....That's when I saw him.Walker stood off in the distance, easy in that way he always was, talking with the bunkhouse hands. Laughing. And then—Laramie. Too close. Too familiar. My heart began to pound so hard it scared me. The sight of him warmed me straight through and hurt me just as badly, like pressing on a bruise you never let heal.I watched from the fence like I didn't exist. Like I was invisible.Then his green eyes lifted, scanning the crowd.And they landed on me.

His smile vanished instantly, replaced with something else—concern, shock, something raw and unguarded. My breath left me in one sharp rush. Without thinking, I hopped down from the fence to get a better look, my pulse roaring in my ears.Walker moved at the same time.Fast. Urgent.

We closed the distance between us without meaning to, like gravity had finally decided enough was enough. The moment he reached me, I broke. I fell into his arms, hands fisting his shirt, face pressed into his chest like a lost child who'd finally found home.I cried hard. Ugly. Uncontrolled."I'm sorry," I sobbed, over and over, the words tumbling out like I owed him something. Like I'd wronged him just by surviving. "I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... I..."He wrapped his arms around me immediately, tight and protective, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other firm at my waist."Hey," he whispered, voice thick. "Hey, Willie. You don't owe me a damn thing."But I couldn't stop.The pain from Jimmy—fresh and unhealed—spilled out of me and into Walker's chest. Every broken promise, every misplaced hope. He held me through it all, rocking slightly, grounding me."I'm sorry," he said back, again and again, like he'd been carrying it for years. "I should've come after you. I should've fought harder. I should've been there."His arms tightened, like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go I clung to him like my body remembered before my mind could catch up. His chest was solid beneath my cheek, familiar in a way that made my knees weak. I shook in his arms, breath coming out in broken pulls."Willie," he murmured again, softer this time. "Look at me."I shook my head, pressing my face harder into his shirt. "I can't. If I look at you I'm gonna fall apart even worse."His hand slid up my back, slow, grounding. "You already are. That's okay. I've got you."That did it. My fingers curled tighter in his shirt, knuckles aching. "You hurt me..," I whispered, the words raw and small. "You just... disappeared. I woke up alone. I thought— I thought you didn't want me."He went still."I didn't leave because I didn't want you," he said quietly, every word deliberate. "I left because I was scared. Because I didn't know how to stay without hurting you more I was scared to be.. a dad.. to have that responsibility. And then... time passed. And I thought you were better off without me messing it all up again."I pulled back just enough to look at him, my lashes wet and heavy. "You don't get to decide that for me."His jaw tightened, eyes shining. "I know. And I hate myself for it."For a moment we just stared at each other, years sitting heavy between us. His thumb brushed under my eye, wiping away a tear without asking."That lip," he said, voice breaking. "Who did that to you?"I flinched without meaning to when his finger pointed at it. He noticed immediately."Hey," he said, sharper now. "Who."

"...Rip," I admitted, barely audible.Something dark flashed across his face—anger, guilt, regret all tangled together. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, forcing it down. "That's what.. all that blood was from? The night you left?" I nodded simply. Not wanting to open that topic up. "I should've been there," he said again, firmer. "I should've protected you."Before I could answer, a small voice cut in.

"Mama?"

Patsy stood a few steps away, her little hands twisted in the hem of her dress, green eyes wide and worried. She looked between us, clearly unsure.I turned toward her instantly, reaching out. "Hey, baby. Come here." I sniffledShe hesitated, eyes flicking back to Walker. "Who's that man?" she asked, not scared—just cautious. Protective, even.Walker released me slowly, like he didn't want to but knew he should. He crouched slightly to Patsy's level, keeping his distance.

"I'm—" He stopped, glanced at me. "I'm a friend of your mama's."Patsy frowned. "Why is Mama crying?"My throat closed. "Because sometimes grown-ups cry too," I said softly. "It doesn't mean I'm hurt. Just... feeling a lot."Patsy studied Walker carefully, then stepped closer to me, one hand gripping my leg like an anchor. "Did you make her cry?"Walker shook his head immediately. "No, sweetheart. I'm trying to help her stop."She considered that, then nodded once, satisfied enough for now. "Okay."

I let out a shaky breath and brushed Patsy's curls back from her face. Walker watched us like it was the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

Walker straightened, eyes back on me. "I don't know what you need from me right now," he said. "I don't know if you want answers, or space, or just someone to stand here and breathe with you. But I'm not going anywhere tonight. Not without your say."I swallowed hard, my heart aching and full all at once."Just... stay," I said. "Please."His shoulders eased like he'd been holding them up for years. "I'm here," he promised. "I've got you. Both of you."