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We’re finished eating and relaxing on the couch when Sam and Cade get home, and their hands are full. Cade has a bag that looks heavy for a seven-year-old, and Sam’s wrestling with some boxes.
“Do you need some help?” I ask, lifting to a stand and rushing over to help Sam with the boxes.
“Yeah,” she says a little breathlessly. “There are about forty more of these in my car.”
“Maybe thirty now,” Devin says, walking in with another stack of boxes. “Whoa. You’re Lincoln Nash.”
I grin and set the boxes down onto the kitchen table. He sets his stack on top of mine, and I stick out a hand to shake his. “I assume you’re Devin?”
He nods. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you.”
We head outside to get the rest of the boxes out of the car along with packing paper, and when we return, Sam has emptied the bag Cade was carrying—which was filled with packing tape and dispensers.
“Who’s ready for a packing party?” Sam asks.
Nobody is, but we all pitch in to help anyway, and it’s a start at least.
Devin and Sam are in the kitchen and I’m helping Jolene in her room when I sit on the bed for a beat.
“Can we talk about something that’s been on my mind?” I begin.
She sits next to me. “What’s up?”
I clear my throat. “I want to talk to your father.”
“Oh, Linc,” she says, and she stands and starts pacing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I know it’s not, but I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I know that in order for you to truly get everything you want, your dad needs to be okay with this.”
She twists her lips, and then she pauses and sets her hands on her hips. “How’d you know that?”
“Because I know you, Jo. I know what means the most to you.”
She tilts her head as she lets out a little sigh of contentment. “God, I love you.”
“Right back at you. Have you told your parents about the baby?”
She shakes her head. “I have not. I had a hard enough time getting up the courage to tell you.”
I motion for her to come closer, and I loop my arm around her waist, pulling her on top of me so she’s straddling me. “And look how that turned out. They deserve to know.”
“I know,” she murmurs, and then she lowers her lips to mine. “And I will tell them. Someday.”
I laugh.
“We should probably lead with how we’re back together. My mom will be okay with it. My dad…not so much.”
“Speaking of all that, I think my mom will be okay with everything, too. She told me she always thought you were lovely.”
She flips her hair. “Well, I am lovely.”
I chuckle and kiss her neck. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you this, but my mom told me she thought the accident—or, um, your dad’s injury—had less to do with me and more to do with the bar than my dad led me to believe.”
A small gasp rises out of her as it seems to click into place. “God. How you’re related to such an asshole is beyond me.”
My brows dip.
