Page 12 of Waiting in Wyoming

But Neveah had never liked Sonny’s mom. Sonny had never really liked his mom, either. Neither had his brothers.

He missed his oldest brother right now. His brother had had three kids before he’d been hit by a drunk running a red light. His brother would have been able to tell him what to do now—he’d been a soldier. Used to fixing stuff.

Sonny hadn’t drunk beer or anything like that and driven since. He wasn’t ever going to be the guy who did that to someone’s kids. He just wasn’t.

His brother had had three kids. Now they didn’t have a dad at all. Except his brother’s ex-wife’s new husband. He’d heard his sister-in-law had remarried and everything. They were just forgetting Sonny’s brother completely.

Maybe that was a good thing. His brother hadn’t been a good father, Sonny didn’t think. He didn’t even want anything to do with his kids before he’d died. Sonny had never even seen his brother hold his kids.

Sonny couldn’t understand that. Yes, kids were hard—Katie was more work than he had ever done in his life—but he loved her.

He really did.

She looked mostly like her mom but a little bit like him. And she was really small. Helpless.

He scooted back in the bed. He had the extended-cab semi now. It was older than what his last truck had been, but with the money he’d gotten before Katie was born from those jobs up inWyoming, he’d upgraded to this one because it had a place for him to sleep and everything.

He had wanted someplace good to sleep and a real fridge. Now, he even had room for a small bassinet for the baby. Diapers took up a lot of room—he didn’t like trying to find parking so he could buy diapers, but he did it. He had jugs of water for the formula, too. She was really little. She mostly slept while he drove, anyway.

She’d be okay doing that, he thought. For a little while. But he was going to save up some money and buy a home for them somewhere. With a yard she could play in while he watched over her.

But not in Texas. He was tired of Finley Creek. The heat, the drama. His mother. The idea of her deciding how he should raise Katie just wasn’t sitting right.

Sonny wouldn’t say it out loud, but his mom hadn’t done such a great job raising her own kids. His oldest brother had been a jerk to his wife, and Sonny and his other brother had been in and out of prison since they were in junior high.

He didn’t want her anywhere near Katie. Sonny just didn’t.

He gave Katie the bottle and held her close as she ate.

He was going to be a better dad than his mom had been a mom. He was going to be a better dad than his brother had been. No matter what. Like the kind of dad he’d seen on TV before.

He was going to do these jobs for the guys out of Wyoming—they paid good. And paid extra if he didn’t talk about what he did, either. Not that he would—he didn’t want to go back to jail. He wasn’t an idiot.

And then, when he had enough, he was going to buy Katie a house somewhere.

Maybe in Wyoming.

It was really pretty up there and the people were nice, too.

His brother’s three kids lived up here, too. He’d look up his brother’s ex-wife. See if she’d let him see the kids sometimes.

So Katie could know her family.

Yeah, Sonny would like that.

A few more runs to Wyoming and he’d have real money. Money he could use to give Katie the good kind of life.

The kind Sonny had never had.

8

She was workingthe front desk, covering for Daisy, when Charlotte’s friend from Finley Creek came. Meyra recognized her immediately. Brandt’s twin sister. Everyone had said they were on their way to get to him. She’d met his sister several times before.

“Hello, welcome to the Talley Inn.” She repeated the words by rote. This was exactly what she was supposed to do, after all. But there were two men behind Powell Barratt, and they were the intimidating kind. They just sort of glowered at her. Meyra fought the urge to take an instinctive step back.

They were very handsome and looked a great deal alike. They had the same hair color as the woman walking in front of them. And they looked likehim.But in business suits. Brandt wore suits like that sometimes, but mostly, he wore jeans. She liked him in jeans best. “You must be Brandt’s brothers. I know you are his sister.”

“Hello, Meyra,” Powell said quietly. She was kind of serious. Meyra had noticed that when she’d met her before. “Where’s our brother?”