No Limits by Katherine Garbera Page B

wasn’t just physical. It was more like finding another part of his soul—a part he’d never even knew existed—and feeling as if he was a little closer to being whole.
    A person couldn’t be that for him. He didn’t trust the universe to keep the people he cared about alive and with him. He kept his relationships carefully limited. Mick, Dennis, maybe Hemi and a few of the other guys who were trying for the Cronus missions. That was it. He didn’t let many people get close to him and he had the uncomfortable feeling that Molly had slipped in when he hadn’t been paying attention.
    Her long legs and curvy hips had distracted him. Made him think with his dick instead of his brain. And now he was dealing with the fallout.
    He put his head in his hands, stared at the tabletop and saw a small crescent moon etched into the wood. Dropping his hands, he traced the old carving. He remembered how rebellious he’d felt when he’d worked on it over the course of his first summer at the ranch. He’d felt like he had a secret. Tonight he’d unconsciously sat in the same spot that had been his all those years ago. He glanced across the table, remembered that Molly had sat there.
    It was funny that no matter how much had changed this still felt like his spot. He rubbed the moon again. He had always been so sure of what he wanted, where he wanted to go, where his real home was—up there in the stars—but as he looked around the kitchen and the memories of the past swelled around him, he realized he had more of a home here than he wanted to remember.
    * * *
    H E LEFT BEFORE dawn broke over the horizon the next day. Making love to Molly...well, that hadn’t been his smartest idea, but he didn’t regret it.
    As much as ranching wasn’t in his plans, he owed it to Mick to make sure that the place survived.
    Despite his desire to ride the fences and see the acreage they’d discussed the night before, he didn’t want to wait another moment before putting their plan into action. That was why he’d left. It wasn’t cowardice driving him from her arms; it was determination. Or at least that was his story and he was sticking to it. He fiddled with the radio and had a flashback to this first ride out to the Bar T Ranch sitting in the front seat with Mick.
    The older man had been larger than life and his voice the kind of quiet rumble that rolled through a room the way thunder did across the wide-open plains. He’d hit the different buttons on the radio and looked over at Jason—he’d definitely only been Jason back then—and said, “You like this kind of music?”
    Jason hadn’t said anything. Still mad that he’d gotten busted for living alone and scared that legally he had to live with this guy.
    Finally, after exhausting all of the choices, Mick turned to him, stared with those wise eyes of his and said, “You don’t like much, do you?”
    Jason had shrugged. He’d been living alone for six months after his mom died. For most of that time there had been no electricity, no music. “I don’t know.”
    â€œFair enough,” Mick said. “Now that you’re living with us, you can figure it out.”
    Mick had turned on a country music station. Not one of the modern ones. One that played classic country like George Jones, Hank Williams, Jr. and Conway Twitty. And Jason had been hooked. Mick knew it and kept him supplied with CDs and a new CD player in his room. It was the first thing he’d liked about his new life. That, and the fact that he didn’t have to worry about finding his next meal or keeping warm at night.
    Now, he stopped on that old classic country station. “Who’s Gonna Fill Their Shoes?” by George Jones began to play, and tears burned the back of Ace’s eyes. He wondered if there’d ever be a man who could fill Mick’s shoes. Ace was determined to do right by