Page 118 of One Wild Chance

I watch him leave as he shuts the door behind him. Then I lean my palms flat on the table and think about everything James just said.

Jaxon asked his lawyer to do this before we were together. He sat in James’s office and asked how to get out of this. Which means nothing is keeping Jaxon here. Not the trust, not the farm, not even the loan. Just me. And I haven’t always been enough for people to stay before.

I look down at the lavender bundle on the table. Jaxon told me I was the one who made the answer clear when he turned down the coaching job. But this farm could lose its appeal over time. When the newness wears off, will he still feel the same?

I pick up a mason jar because I don’t know what else to do with myself besides work when my mind is spiraling. It’s the thing I learned early in life: keep your hands moving, and don’t stop long enough to feel anything. Don’t stop to wonder if you’ll be enough this time.

Larissa pokes her head through the back door. “Hey, where do you want those hay bales to go? Wyatt’s getting them and—” She stops and her brow creases. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“You look like someone just died.”

I straighten the lavender bundles, gaze fixed downward, perfecting each stem. “The Chances’ attorney stopped in. Jaxon asked him to look for a loophole, and he found one. Jaxon doesn’t have to live here to get Lucky Chance.”

“That’s good, right?” she asks. “It takes the pressure off.”

“Larissa, it means he can leave anytime.”

Her brow pinches. “But why would he leave? He’s in love with you.”

“My dad loved my mom. And I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Jaxon’s not the same as your dad,” she says. “You know that, right?”

“In my head, yes.” I lay down the lavender bundle. “But the farm is still new to him. And now there’s nothing holding him here except me.” I can hear how it sounds, but I have to ask the question. I want to know if he’ll disappoint me like my father, or if I’m just fooling myself into believing in a fantasy.

Larissa folds her arms and looks at me. “Can I say something you’re not going to like?”

I huff out a dry laugh. “Historically, that’s never stopped you before.”

“I say this as a friend who cares about you,” she says, leveling her gaze. “But I think you’ve had your bags packed since he got back. And now you’re running every worst-case scenario before anything’s actually happened. That should make you ask yourself some serious questions. Like whether this is really about Jaxon…or your dad?”

I slide one finger carefully over the dried stem, the scent of lavender everywhere. “I don’t know.”

“Then figure that part out first. Before you do anything else.”

There’s only one person who can help me figure this out. One person who may remember nothing or everything about my father.

“Hey,” I say, grabbing my keys and coming around the worktable. “Do you mind holding things down for an hour?”

“Sure.” She tilts her head. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to someone who’s been in my shoes.”

I just wish she could remember me when I do.

Chapter 34

Summer

Mom’s room is at the end of the hall, past the sitting area where two residents are watching Wheel of Fortune with the volume cranked.

I knock before I push her door open a crack. She’s in the chair by the window, staring at the parking lot, deep in thought. The sun bathes her in light, and for a second she looks so much like the version of my mom that I still remember. I take her in, letting the memories wash over me: watching movies while we folded clothes, baking cookies when we could splurge on chocolate chips, then eating them warm from the oven with a cold glass of milk.

“Hey,” I murmur, careful not to startle her.

She turns toward me, her eyes vacant. “Hello?” She uses the same stiff tone that she does with the aides.