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“Let's head on back,” Grandpa calls out, cranking the engine to life. Beside him, Grandma settles in, her hands folding neatly in her lap. The truck lurches forward, and I brace myself against the wheel wells, the afternoon sun casting long shadows through the orchard.
The rush of air makes talking impossible, but that’s fine with me. I don’t want to give away anything else. Once the house comes into view, Grandpa parks the truck, and we all climb out. Ethal lingers as I begin to unload crates, her eyes soft and knowing.
I stack the crates in silence. The only sounds are the crunch of gravel under my feet and the rustle of leaves in the wind.
“Need help packing?” she asks, but I shake my head.
Am I packing? “Thanks, but I'll manage,” I say, even though part of me yearns for the comfort her presence brings.
She doesn't move, just watches me with that same gentle gaze. “You're worthy of love regardless of your past mistakes,” she says, her voice so tender it slips past my battered defenses and hits me right in the heart.
I stiffen, the weight of her words pinning me in place. My jaw clenches. “You don't know everything,” I murmur, almost too low to hear. They only know parts of my past, the small parts. Not the really big mistakes I’ve made.
“Maybe not,” she says with a small smile. “But I do know that much.” Her belief in me is both undeserved and unwavering and lodges itself deep within, a seed of hope I'm terrified to let take root.
“Thank you.” I turn away before she sees the emotions I’m struggling to keep off my face. I retreat into the beautiful farmhouse and to my room. The vaulted ceilings and multitude of skylights let in the sunshine and the beauty of this place calms me.
With every folded shirt, every zipped bag, Isla invades my thoughts. Her smile, her passion for her craft, the way my name sounds when it crosses her lips—each memory pushes me closer to a decision I never thought I'd consider.
Go help her. The words echo in my mind, a challenge I’m not sure I should take. And as I snap the suitcase shut, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I want to.
I stride across the dew-kissed grass, suitcase in hand, my goodbyes heavy on my tongue. Grandpa’s perched on the old wooden bench, his gaze following the swoop and dives of the sparrows above. His silver hair seems bright in the sunlight. I sit beside him, the wood creaking.
“Is everything okay?” I’m worried. I know I don’t visit often enough. Life always seems to get in the way.
He nods without looking away from the birds, those bright eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, everything's fine.” I sense there’s more and I stay put. “I'm not one to tell you how to live,” he says, his tone casual like we’re discussing the weather, “but this life you're living… it’ll get old.”
The words hit me harder than any physical blow could. But he’s not done. “One day you’ll wake up, alone, no matter who's in your bed. If no one knows you, really knows the real you, then they can't love you.”
I blink, the raw honesty of his words jarring me. “I don’t need to be loved,” I say, meaning the words. But the thought of Isla loving me…
“Sure.” He chuckles. “But you do want someone, don't you? Someone to enrich your life, make it better?”
My mind summons Isla's face—her vibrant eyes, her infectious laugh that fills rooms and steals hearts. “She's just a passing obsession,” I argue more with myself than him.
“Ha!” Grandpa's laugh scares the birds and they scatter. “Finally fallen for a woman, have you? She must be blind if she's falling for you.”
I can't help but join in his laughter, the shared joke somehow bridging the gap between my guarded heart and the possibility of something more.
“Go on, chase after her.” Grandpa nudges my arm with his elbow and a wink, pushing past my defenses like only family can.
“Maybe I will.” And as we sit there, two men bound by blood and unspoken understanding, I let myself believe—for a fleeting second—that maybe, just maybe, I'm ready to be caught.
Chapter Eighteen
Isla
The knock at the door has me on edge, and my hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob. I’m dreading the thought of Chase and his latest girlfriend being on the other side of the door. That concern twisting in my stomach feels like I’ve swallowed pure acid.
I pull the door open, steeling myself. But instead of Chase’s smug grin, it’s Walker standing there, filling the doorway with his imposing presence.
My breath catches, my heart pounding against my ribs in a frantic beat that makes me feel lightheaded. That can’t be a good thing, can it? His dark hair is tousled, those piercing blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends electric shocks skittering down my spine. Is the universe pranking me right now? Is he?
“Hey,” he says, his voice a low rumble that my whole body tunes into.
I’m stuck in place, unsure what to say – or if I can even speak. “Wha— How did you find me?”
His brow furrows, a deepening line in his forehead showing concern. “I heard you had a family emergency.”
