Where We Call Home (Faircloud #2)

Chapter 2

Two

M y friends splashed around in the pool like carefree teenagers, savoring the last rays of summer before the season slipped away.

Boone had Aspen perched on his shoulders, locked in a fierce game of chicken with Mac and Penny. Laughter rang through the air, carefree and unfiltered.

Meanwhile, I stayed exactly where I belonged—planted on a lounge chair under an umbrella, perfectly positioned to observe without getting involved.

Just how I liked it.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

All of these men looked ridiculously good shirtless and dripping wet.

Honestly? Even I was wet. Thankfully, no one could tell.

I had never looked at my friends and entertained such raunchy, absolutely filthy thoughts before, but today? My judgment was clearly MIA.

Luckily, my sunglasses hid the direction of my gaze. Sure, they all looked great, but Rhodes?

Rhodes had my full attention.

He lounged at the edge of the pool, arms braced behind him, and his hands gripped the neck of a beer bottle.

I’d like to feel those hands wrapped around my neck.

The thought struck like a lightning bolt. I shook my head, trying to dislodge it.

This was ridiculous. Rhodes was a friend. With Boone and Aspen dating, we’d be spending a lot more time together, which meant I needed to get my hormones in check—for the sake of the group, if nothing else.

Then, as if the universe wanted to test me, Rhodes took a slow sip of his beer.

The muscles in his neck tensed as he swallowed, his lips parting just enough to make my head spin.

Was it getting hotter ?

I fanned myself with the napkin on my lap, hoping it would do something to counteract the heat creeping over me. Then, for good measure, I dabbed my chest.

Desperate for a distraction, I decided to cool off the only way I could, sticking my feet in the water.

Swinging my legs over the side of the chair, I reached down to untie my boots. Getting them off was infinitely easier than putting them on. Once the boots and socks were discarded, I made my way to the pool’s edge, choosing a quieter spot, out of the splash zone.

Sliding my feet into the water, I sighed in relief as the coolness rushed over me, though my pants weren’t so lucky—soaking at the edges. Not that I could bend far enough to roll them up anyway.

The water swirled around my ankles as I kicked my feet back and forth, tilting my head up to the sun.

This was my happy place.

Being outside, surrounded by nature—it was why I’d chosen wildlife photography. Out there, it was just me, my camera, and the quiet, steady rhythm of the world around me.

Then, something brushed against my ankle.

I jolted, my head snapping toward the water, heart pounding, only to find Rhodes smiling up at me.

His hat was gone, wet black curls clinging to his neck, curling behind his ears.

“Your pants were in the water,” he said, voice low, lips tilting into a smirk as he reached for the cuffs of my overalls, rolling them up until they were safe.

What the hell was he doing?

Better question— why the hell was he doing that?

My face twisted into some bizarre expression of confusion, mild embarrassment, and a bad case of heartburn all mixed together.

“Um… thanks?” I mumbled, shifting my gaze toward the others in the pool.

Rhodes didn’t move far.

He stayed close, floating lazily, his broad shoulders just above the waterline, his back resting against the pool’s edge.

The silence between us dragged on until, finally, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Why aren’t you over there with the rest of them?”

Rhodes took another slow sip of his beer, then cleared his throat. “Games aren’t my thing,” he muttered, still not looking at me.

I studied the back of his head, the unruly curls brushing just above the bump of his spine.

Scoffing, I dragged my gaze away from him and back to the chaos in the pool. “Same. People who like games are… weird. Most of them are pointless anyway.”

“Right?” Rhodes laughed, turning his head slightly toward me. “Plus, who actually enjoys losing?”

I adjusted, leaning back on my hands for support, when suddenly, a familiar sensation fluttered in my belly.

My breath hitched, my muscles tensing.

Instinctively, my hand flew to my stomach, pressing against the strange movement beneath my skin.

Every time she moved like that, it startled me a little.

Still, I liked it.

It was a reminder that she was t hriving, growing, and becoming more real with every passing day.

Rhodes noticed immediately. His head snapped in my direction, and he adjusted his position in the water, turning to face me fully.

“You okay?” he asked, green eyes wide with concern. His hands hovered just in front of him, ready to catch me if I toppled over.

I let out a soft laugh, the discomfort passing as quickly as it came. “Yeah, I’m fine. She’s just practicing her gymnastics routine in there.”

Rhodes’ tense expression softened, relief washing over his face as he nodded. His gaze drifted to my belly, lingering there for a beat longer than expected.

Seeing him relax like that was… kind of cute.

“How’s it going?” he asked, tipping his bottle toward my bump.

I exhaled, tilting my head slightly. “If I’m being honest? It’s getting harder every day. I cried this morning because I couldn’t tie my boots.”

His lips twitched into a slight grin. “How far along are you?”

“Just over halfway. Twenty-one weeks.” My hand found my belly instinctively, a habit now and one I barely noticed anymore. It was my way of staying connected to the little life growing inside me.

I liked when people asked about her.

She was already my proudest accomplishment, even though she wasn’t here yet. What I’d once thought was a mistake had turned into something bigger, something more. She gave me a purpose beyond my career, something I hadn’t even realized I was searching for.

Rhodes let out a thoughtful grunt, his gaze flicking back to my stomach, like he could see her through my skin. “If you need anything, let me know,” he said, voice steady, serious.

Then, his eyes lifted to mine, and something in them stuck, made my heart stumble over itself.

“I mean it,” he added, low and firm.

The warmth of his words curled through me, slow and all-consuming, like sitting too close to a fire on a cold night.

“Okay,” I whispered, offering a small smile before looking away. His gaze was too much, masculine in a way that made my stomach flutter. I could only take so much attention before I retreated.

As the sun dipped lower, the air cooled, signaling that it was time to head out.

Driving at night wasn’t my favorite, especially in this car. My old Camaro wasn’t built for dodging deer, and somehow, the chances of running into wildlife always seemed higher after dark.

We’d spent the rest of the evening just existing together, but I kept my distance from Rhodes.

Too much exposure, too many eyes on us. The fact that we walked into the party together was more than enough to get Aspen and Penny following a lead that wasn’t even there.

Instead, I sat next to Logan, keeping things surface-level—city restaurants, his parents’ careers, baby talk.

“I’m gonna head home,” I said eventually, tapping Aspen’s shoulder to get her attention.

She was curled up in a plastic chair, her signature glass of wine in hand.

“You can stay over with me and Penny!” she offered, standing to hug me. “We’re having a sleepover. Staying up late, drinking wine, probably passing out on the couch.”

I hated saying no to their invitations.

But lately? I just couldn’t .

Long nights and makeshift sleeping arrangements weren’t in my wheelhouse anymore. I needed my own bed, my coziest pajamas, and an uninterrupted night of sleep.

“I wish I could,” I murmured, hugging her a little longer than necessary. “But my back needs a real bed.”

Aspen laughed, letting me go. “Fair enough,” she said, though I knew she didn’t quite understand.

One day, she would.

“I’ll see you around.”

I lifted a hand in a half-wave to the rest of the group, who sang their goodbyes.

At the start of my pregnancy, I could still keep up with them.

Now? My energy was spent.

Life was changing. I couldn’t just drop everything for spontaneous plans like I used to.

It was easier to entertain myself than to inconvenience everyone else.

As I turned to leave, my gaze lingered on Rhodes.

I gave him an extra smile, and he caught it—nodding, returning one of his own.

I regretted not pushing past the weird tension and talking to him a little longer.

But my mind and body had other plans.

The fact that I wanted to stay—wanted to engage with him, despite my exhaustion—spoke volumes. I heard it loud and clear.

Despite that, I walked out the gate and chose to go home.

When I plopped into the driver’s seat, I let my head rest against the steering wheel, allowing the quiet to wrap around me.

Nights like this were hard.

I missed my friends.

I missed the ease of saying yes to plans without a second thought. Pregnancy was isolating in a way I hadn’t expected. It was hard for people to understand how much my body and mind were changing.

Sometimes, when I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.

Slow and steady wasn’t who I’d been, but things had to change at some point. I reminded myself—these feelings were temporary.

They would pass. I just had to push through. Because this baby—my little girl—would be worth it all.