Chapter 5 #2
“Nope, still working on it,” she says, her mouth in a line. I know she’s stressed and I wish they’d just move in with me. We’d make it work.
Cami and Jack wrap up for the evening, and Owen insists on helping put away the grooming tools. He takes it very seriously, lining brushes just right and double checking the buckets like he’s been promoted to ranch foreman.
When it’s finally time to go, he launches himself straight into my side.
“I love you, Ollie,” he says.
My chest tightens, sharp and sudden. I don’t hesitate and hug him back. “Love you too, bud.”
Poppy’s standing a few feet away, keys in her hand. Her eyes flick to us, then away just as quickly, like the emotion hits too close to something tender. She swallows and heads for the truck.
I follow.
She’s at the rear passenger door when I reach her.
Close enough that when she turns, she has to press her back against the door without quite meaning to.
She sucks in a sharp breath as if the metal is cool against her spine.
I stop in front of her, closer than I need to be, the space between us narrowing until the air feels thick.
Up close, she smells like engine oil and soap, something soft and faintly sweet underneath it. Familiar. Comforting. Dangerous.
Her blue eyes lift to mine, curious and searching, like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do.
I reach past her and open the door.
It’s such a small thing. Something I’ve never done before. But her breath catches anyway, barely there. She has to slide past me to get in, her arm brushing my chest, her knee grazing my thigh. The contact is brief, innocent, and it hits me harder than it should.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then she climbs into the seat. I close the door gently and step back as Owen scrambles beside her, already talking about the horses like nothing in the world could ever be wrong.
I stand there under the endless Wyoming sky as the engine turns over. Dust kicks up behind the truck as they pull away, and Poppy glances at me through the window, just once.
I don’t look away until they’re gone.
I’ve never been surer of anything. I want to be in their family.
But I don’t know if she’ll ever let herself believe she deserves me. Or that I deserve them.
But I know one thing for sure. It’s always been her.
It’s four in the morning, and I haven’t slept at all.
I tried. I laid on the mattress upstairs with the lights off, staring at the ceiling while the building settled and the town went quiet around me.
I kept thinking about Poppy standing in my doorway, shaking her head when I offered her the apartment.
About the way she said she wasn’t ready, like wanting something safe felt dangerous.
So, I got up and got to work.
Now the music is blaring, bass thudding through the old walls, loud enough to drown out my thoughts.
The apartment above the shop smells like dust and stale smoke, the kind that’s been soaked into carpet for decades.
I’m sweating through my shirt as I peel back another strip of disgusting, stained carpet and roll it tight.
I drag the roll down the narrow stairs and toss it into the bed of my truck parked below.
Murphy’s Auto is dark except for the glow spilling from the windows upstairs.
Across the alley, the bakery is quiet, ovens cold until dawn.
A few blocks over, houses sit dark and still, porch lights flickering like they’re half asleep too.
No one’s awake but me.
I head back up and grab the pry bar again. The carpet comes up with a sound like it’s fighting me, stubborn and angry. I yank harder.
Because even if she said no, even if she isn’t ready to move in, I want this place clean. Safe. New. If she ever changes her mind, I want her to know I was serious.
The floorboards beneath are scarred and stained, and the new carpet that’s coming in that I ordered will be better.
Better than what Poppy and Owen are living with now, with the foreclosure that’s looming over her.
Better than relying on a man who never actually shows up and does what he says he’s going to do.
If they end up here, which is what I’m hoping, I want this place to feel like a home, not a last resort, and I want to surprise her with new carpet and fresh paint. It’s the least I can do for them.
I yank up the final corner of the carpet. The room already feels bigger, better, and cleaner without all that grossness. She’s going to be surprised.
I think about how blood doesn’t always equal family.
Life is way too short to give my mom the time of day if she doesn’t want to be a mom to Cami and me.
Cami still has hope that she will be a mother.
She wants to have our mom around, I get it.
I wanted that, too. I just don’t think she’s capable of being who we need.
But I also don’t want to dampen Cami’s joy.
I crack a window to let in fresh cold air. My sweat instantly chills, but I don’t stop. I grab the paint can from the hallway and pop the lid. The color is Betsy’s Linen that’s a creamy white. I picked it because it feels peaceful and fresh. Like a fresh new start.
I start rolling paint onto the wall in long, even strokes. My muscles burn and my back aches. It feels good and purposeful.
By the time the sun starts thinking about waking up, I have both bedrooms painted. I step into the middle of the room and breathe deep. It already feels like a different place.
I rinse paint off my arms in the tiny bathroom sink, then strip out of my clothes and turn on the shower. The pipes rattle to life, and steaming water comes down like a reward. I lean my forehead against the tile.
Cami’s words replay in my mind.
“You could live out here.”
“You are family.”
“She wants you too.”
And moving back to the ranch? I lived there before I moved above the shop.
I paid my share of rent that my mom required and then some.
I took care of everything out there. And every time I handed her money, she would find a new way to suddenly need more.
None of it was going to the ranch and we lost it.
Seeing Sully do that to Poppy makes me so angry.
I remember how Poppy was there for me when that was happening to me.
I got through that with her. She gave me this place to live here when I needed it.
I’d do anything to repay her, even making this place a home for them.
I could always find a place and give them this.
Steam curls around me, and I have to close my eyes because the idea of home keeps turning into her. Poppy in this space. Owen is laughing in the hall. I’m cooking breakfast in the kitchen for them. The kitchen table covered in homework, snacks, and a half-finished puzzle.
A real family. Not one you are born into. One you choose. One that matters and means everything to me.
But what does that even mean? How can you choose your family if they don’t choose you back? I need Poppy to want me back.
I turn off the water and towel off fast. My shift starts at seven, and there’s still cleanup to finish. I try to get everything done before Poppy gets to the shop. I want to surprise her when it’s all done.
I put my gear in my truck and head out just as the first sliver of sun starts to climb over Bridger Falls.
The firehouse smells like strong coffee and aftershave. The guys know I’ve been working on my place and razz me about it.
“You building a castle up there?” Smith cracks.
“Just fixing a place up,” I say, tossing my bag in my locker.
“Fixing a love nest,” Mike, one of the opposite shift firefighters, teases under his breath. The station erupts in low whistles.
I ignore them the best I can. I know they mean well. These guys love Poppy and wouldn’t disrespect her. They have no idea what I’m doing for Poppy and Owen. I don’t even know half the time.
We get called out around dinnertime. Just a transport assist at the retirement apartments. Nothing dramatic. But of course, Mom happens to be the nurse on duty when we get to Bridger Falls Memorial Hospital.
I know before I even see her because my skin crawls. She steps into view, hair pulled back, scrubs wrinkled, eyes sharp as ever.
“Oliver.” Her voice drips judgment when I look away. “Still avoiding me, I see.”
The guys glance between us like they have ringside seats and don’t want them.
I adjust the stretcher position and keep my voice flat. “Been busy working.”
She folds her arms. “Are you going to avoid me forever?”
The fact that she’s doing this in front of my coworkers and a patient pisses me off.
I meet her eyes. The same eyes that used to look right through me like I didn’t matter. “I gotta go.”
Her mouth pinches like she wants to say something more. I turn away before she can dig her claws in deeper.
How hard is it to just be a good mom? To show up when your kids need you? To be there?
And then the real question hits like a punch. Is this why I try so damn hard for Poppy and Owen? So that they don’t feel what I felt? Well, I already know they feel it with Sully. But they shouldn’t have to. No kid should.
I stare out the window, the whole way, jaw locked tight.
Poppy’s dad is a parasite who only shows up to take from her. My mom enjoys wreaking havoc and making herself the center of everything. Neither of them know how to love. But maybe… we aren’t cursed with their flaws. Maybe it means we know exactly what not to be.
I think about the fresh paint drying upstairs above Poppy’s shop and about Owen’s laugh when he brushes the horses and plays basketball with his friends. I think about what it would feel like to come home to them.
I close my eyes and let the thought sit heavy and terrifying in my chest. I want to build something with them that never breaks. I’ll work every shift, tear up every carpet, paint every wall, and show up to every call if it keeps them safe.
My family is with them now. And I am going to fight like hell to be worthy of it. I just need Poppy to catch up.