Cass stood next to her horse, Sunshine, and pushed the comb in long strokes down her front shoulders and legs. It’d been stupidly impossible to get Anthony Kincaid’s lips out of her mind. The feel of him seemed to be burned into her.

She’d gotten home, taken Sunshine out, and ridden her hard. Now, freshly hosed off, Sunshine enjoyed a nice grooming. Cassidy took in a long breath. Everything had been clear before, back when her fiancé, Kyle was alive. Her hand brushed Sunshine’s coat as she thought of Kyle’s handsome face. His green eyes. The feel of him against her as he hugged her the last time at the airport. The way he whispered, “I’ll be back, Cass. Love you.”

Her therapist in Florida said time would help. It hadn’t. It’d been six months and sometimes she still felt like she couldn’t get a breath.

“Looks like you’re working some kind of problem out on poor old Sunshine.” Her father paused to pet the horse’s head, then continued down to the next stall, opening the door and pulling Popeye out.

“You should be resting,” she said to her father in a parental tone, even though it would do no good to chide the man.

“I feel fine.” He waved a hand in dismissal and picked up another brush, preparing to groom Popeye.

The radiation treatment took it out of him most days, but he still came out and helped with the horses as much as he could. She didn’t know how he handled it so well. The old man was tough, that was for sure.

Cassidy kept brushing Sunshine, thinking of how she liked where her father lived this go around in Dallas, a lot better than where he’d lived before … next to the Kincaids. Still smarting, she sucked in a long breath. “You should rest more, let the hired help take care of the horses.”

He snorted at her. “Are you referring to yourself as the hired help?”

She snorted back. “Yes, Dad. I’m here, aren’t I?” Trying to not have that tone with him, she pushed away the thought that he’d waited so long to tell her about the cancer.

“Are you missing your job in the big city?” her father asked.

It annoyed her that he always referred to Orlando as “the big city.” “Dad, I think Dallas would be considered a ‘big city’ too.”

He grunted.

She thought about her job interviewing elite athletes. Her boss had told her she could come back any time. “I do miss it, but I want to be here.” She didn’t look at her dad. Leaning in, she whispered into Sunshine’s ear, “You’re a good girl.”

“They’re not babies,” her father scoffed.

It was the perennial argument she had with her father in regards to pampering the horses. “Sure they are.” She smiled at Sunshine, loving this little horse more than anything else in her life at the moment, with the exception of her father.

“So what are you upset about?” her father asked cautiously.

She relented—she needed to talk. “I saw the Kincaid brothers today at the assignment I’ve been given for my work.”

Her father let out a long breath. “It seemed inevitable, seeing those boys, doing the job you do. I know you think I pushed you into taking the job at the Star, but you don’t have to. You don’t need the money; I have a fund for you.”

“I don’t want the fund,” she stated again. He’d tried to push her to take the money and she’d always refused. In fact, it was part of the reason she’d taken the job at the Star, so she wouldn’t have to rely on her father’s money. Leading Sunshine back to her stall, she pulled Diva out and started saddling her up.

“That money is yours after I die.” His attention was on Popeye. “All of my money is yours when I die, and that might be sooner than later.”

“Don’t say that,” she said tightly. “You’re not dying, old man, do you hear me?” She glared hard at him, wanting to scream.

Her father took a step back, a smile playing at his lips. “Well, good. At least you don’t hate me enough to want me dead, so there’s that.”

Confused, she thought through how he’d been pushing her and saying things like that. “Did you think that, Dad? That I hate you?”

He clasped his hands together, rubbing one of his palms. Cassidy couldn’t tell if it was arthritis or a nervous thing. “You have been upset with me.”

She exhaled. “Dad ...”

He turned to meet her eyes.

Without a word, he took two steps toward her and wrapped her in a hug.

It stunned her. They hadn’t been that affectionate since she was younger, but being in her dad’s arms and having someone to hold on to felt good. She relaxed.

He squeezed her tighter, then let go. “I love you, sugar box. And I want you to remember something.”

Sensing a lecture, she crossed her arms. “What’s that, Dad?”

He held her shoulders. “Out of every dark cloud always comes a silver lining.”

This was not the advice or wisdom she needed or wanted at the moment. “O-kay.”

Pulling his hands back, he said, “Crap happens in life, sweetheart. We can’t control life, but most of the time good comes out of the thing that’s the worst.”

“Are you talking about Kyle or you?”

His lips quirked in a smile. “Both.”

Cass frowned. Her skin crawled whenever her father dwelled on dying. “You’re going to be fine, Dad.”

Letting out a breath, he gestured to Popeye. “I want to ride with you,” he said, taking a saddle off of the horse stall. “If that’s okay.”

It was more than okay. “That works.”

Once they got on the trail around the property, they fell into a rhythm. This was how it was with them. How it had been since she’d come home. Nice. Quiet. Even though it wasn’t perfect, at least her father would let her be alone in her thoughts. They’d always had the need for quiet in common.

They rode and came back. They didn’t speak at all the entire time. She had plenty of time to turn that kiss around in her mind over and over.

When they got back, they unsaddled and brushed the horses down, then led them into stalls and finished by filling the water troughs.

“So what are you going to do about Anthony?” her father asked.

It felt like her father had been spying on her thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I assume he wants to see you.”

The slap echoed in her memory. “I don’t think so. It … he told me he’d forgiven me.” She let out a sad laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation today.

Her father shook his head. “The putz.”

She rolled her eyes, and they began walking toward the house.

The home wasn’t fancy, but it was well taken care of. Her father had taken a huge interest in making sure all the outbuildings and everything were in good repair. He didn’t need to work himself so much, but she knew it was part of what kept his mind off of the cancer, too.

Her father turned to her. “So are you going to see him or not?”

She slid open the back door that led from the deck to the kitchen. “Dad, I’m not going to see him.”