Cowboy Daddy

“I know.” Wyatt rolled the over-bed table away and walked to the corner where the wheelchair sat. He smiled. “Your chariot awaits.”

A nurse arrived just then and smiled her own encouragement as she gave Wyatt a hand.

Slowly, carefully, Amanda shoved the blankets and sheet back. Wyatt helped her lift her legs over the edge of the mattress and to the cool floor. How could such a big man be so gentle? He’d always been that way, though. She’d been four when their dad had died, and at fifteen, Wyatt had become the closest thing to a father she’d ever known.

It seemed to take forever for him and the nurse to help her stand and take just a couple of steps to the vinyl seat. Between the three of them, they got her up, with the IV bag hung on the pole attached to the back of the chair. She was exhausted before she was settled.

How was she ever going to take care of a baby, much less herself, when she couldn’t even get out of bed alone? Her panic returned.

“Just relax. You’ll be fine.” Wyatt slowly turned the wheelchair toward the door and they headed to the elevators.

The NICU nursery was down a floor and at the end of what felt like an eternal hallway. It seemed so far away. She couldn’t even get there on her own if she wanted. Her eyes burned as her limitations sunk in.

Wyatt took her through myriad different doors. He seemed to know his way, for which she was thankful, since none of it looked how she remembered it from her last trip to see her son. Had she dreamed it all?

Finally, he stopped next to a tiny glass cube that did look familiar. “Oh!” she cried. “There he is.” She couldn’t see him well from where she sat. “Can I stand up? Or get closer?”

A nurse stepped around the tiny bed and smiled at her. “I have a better idea. Do you want to hold him?”

The woman’s face blurred and all Amanda could manage was a vigorous nod. She felt Wyatt’s presence behind her, but he stepped away to give them room to move her around and get them settled.

She hadn’t been able to sit up more than a few minutes before, so holding him hadn’t been an option. Now, as the tiny bundle of blanket and baby nestled in the crook of her arm, she realized that while she was weak, she was stronger than she’d been that first day. And then she stopped thinking about anything except the sweet, warm bundle sleeping in her arms.

So tiny. He looked so small. So helpless. And yet so beautiful and perfect.

Fewer “things” were attached to him today, though a couple of wires and cords had to be arranged around her. Finally, no one was there. No one hovered, as if not trusting her. It was only her and... Lucas? Max? Dear God, she couldn’t have forgotten to name him. Panic set in again. No. Lucas. Lucas Maxwell. Relief eased the panic some.

Suddenly, the nurse was back and Wyatt crouched beside the chair, a proud smile on his face. She looked up at the clock. Where had the fifteen minutes gone?

That was it? She wanted to hold him forever.

“Time to get you back.” Wyatt put a comforting hand on Amanda’s knee, reassuring her.

Amanda was tired. And by the time Lucas and all his paraphernalia were settled back in the bed, Amanda struggled to stay awake. While returning to her room was a disappointing prospect, she knew it was for the best.

She expected Wyatt to push the wheelchair back to her room. She was surprised when he turned it into the small lounge just off the nursery. The Family Room, they called it. It was filled with homey furniture, a large rocking chair and soft piped-in background music.

She knew what this room was usually used for. For the families who had to say goodbye. Her heart hitched in panic.

“Don’t go thinking too hard, Mandy,” Wyatt whispered as he settled in the huge rocking chair and pulled the wheelchair close. Trapping her. He waited patiently for her to finally look up. She was nearly as stubborn as he was. Nearly. But Wyatt had more patience than any person she’d ever met...damn it.

“Tell me,” she finally spat out, expecting him to tell her something awful that the doctors had shared with him that they wouldn’t tell the mother who was exhausted and too sick to even take care of her own child.

Wyatt carefully took her hands in his. His big strong fingers were rough from the hard hours of work he put in at the ranch every day. That roughness had always been comforting when she was a kid, and that comfort came back now.

“Everything’s fine. Your little guy is doing great. Better than you, I think. I just wanted to talk.”

“About?” She let the silence stretch out as she let her relief soak in.

“So.” He paused. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“No. Not that I can think of.” She knew he was hoping she’d changed her mind about telling him who Lucas’s father was. She hadn’t, so she figured she’d wait him out.

Wyatt sighed. “Fine. I’m not going to beat you up about this, but I won’t avoid it, either. Anyway, we all met and discussed this. You need help, Amanda. You can’t do this alone.”

That was not what she’d expected him to say. She lifted her head and stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Come home. Emily and I’ve talked about it. DJ and Tammie agree. Addie suggested it, actually. Until you’re stronger, and until you can do it on your own, come to the ranch.”

She stared at him. Stared and let her brain click past all the reasons why she shouldn’t. Why she should fight to stay here in Dallas where—

Where she lived alone, where she’d have to face putting Lucas in day care in order to do it all on her own.

“Addie could come stay.” But for how long? She was grasping at straws. Addie would have to return to work in a few weeks. Would Amanda be ready to go it alone by then?

She was weak. The doctor had explained her situation. Why she’d hemorrhaged, why she had to take it easy until she healed.

But would going to the ranch be foolish? If she went back to the ranch, she’d be returning to more than just the ranch and her family who still treated her like a child. She’d be putting herself right smack in the middle of the mess that had put her here in the first place.

She’d be right there where Lane was. Right—

“No,” she whispered and broke the stare first. “I can’t.”

“Damn it, Mandy.” Wyatt’s frustration was palpable. He stood and moved away, pacing the tiny room. “That little boy needs more than a stubborn mother right now. Don’t argue with me.” He pulled out his best Dad imitation. “And you need help, too. We’re here for you.”

“It just—” She couldn’t tell him. She—

“She’ll be there.”

The deep voice shimmied over her nerves, and with the last of her energy, she spun around. There, in the doorway, black Stetson in hand, Lane stood, dark and menacing.

“I—”

“As will my son.”

Amanda tried to glare at him, her resentment giving her strength. Lane didn’t even look perturbed. She glanced back at Wyatt. He wasn’t surprised, either. He knew.

Crap.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_b9ac2d54-8a2e-588e-a7d2-b848e9d35053)

IF SHE’D HAD the energy, Amanda would have given the two egotistical, bossy males a piece of her mind. But she had nothing left. Leaning back in the uncomfortable wheelchair, she closed her eyes.

They might be obtuse, but neither Wyatt nor Lane was stupid. The testosterone level in the air dropped several degrees. “I can’t think right now,” she whispered. “Just let me rest, and we can discuss it later.”

It was too much to think about. Too many people, too many choices. And Amanda would be damned if she’d let either of these two see the frustrated, overwhelmed tears that clogged her throat.

Wyatt took her back to her room. But she could hear two sets of boot heels on the tile floor, letting her know Lane followed.