Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Zoey
“You grew up here?” I say, not for the first time as Gavin’s truck bounces over the uneven gravel drive that seems a mile long.
We’d been passing signs for the Brownell Ranch for miles, and though I knew it had to be the one owned by Gavin’s family, seeing it in person was something else.
In the distance, a gorgeous white farmhouse sat to the left, a large red barn in the background and what had to be the start of thousands of acres of farmland.
I was a little disappointed that I couldn’t see any of the oil rigs, if that was even the right word, that I knew had to be there.
Up ahead to the right, there’s a large gravel lot that still had a dozen or more cars.
Another, smaller barn is just beyond the lot and I can see a few smaller pastures with goats, cows, and horses, along with what looks like a giant mountain of hay children are climbing and jumping from.
There’s also a massive wooden playground that looked more like a fort, and a few other smaller structures.
A tractor pulling smaller cars behind it chugs over a dirt track, with parents and children enjoying the ride.
“I can’t believe this place. It’s incredible.”
Gavin chuckles, glancing at me in the rearview mirror with a warmth in his eyes that I’m still getting used to seeing directed my way.
And by getting used to, I mean that every time he looks at me that way, my entire body hums like a plucked string on an instrument.
I keep reminding my stupid body that now isn’t the time, but so far, it doesn’t seem to be listening.
“It was different growing up. All of that is new. My mom and dad opened this part of the farm up about ten years ago. They weren’t working the ranch still but wanted to see the place used for more than just oil.
” His voice drops to a mutter. “I think it’s also a way of my mama living vicariously since she doesn’t have any grandkids. ”
I laugh. “Neither of your brothers have kids?” At some point, he mentioned having two younger brothers, but not much about them. I’m not even sure how close they all are or where the other two live.
“Nope.” He turns his head toward Ella briefly. “She’s the first. Which explains that.” He nods toward the house in front of us.
A woman who must be his mother sprints out of the big farmhouse toward the truck, her white curls bouncing around her head. I can’t help but smile, even though that familiar reminder of missing my own mom starts an ache low in my chest.
Gavin sighs. “Prepare yourself to be overwhelmed.”
He has no idea how overwhelmed I already am, and not for the reasons he might expect.
I try to tell myself that Gavin’s mother is excited about Ella, not me, but the moment I step out of the truck, she’s right there, wrapping her arms around me in a surprisingly tight embrace.
Hugging Gavin’s mother is like being enveloped in a freshly baked loaf of bread.
She’s warm and soft and smells so comfortingly familiar, her big smile drawing out one of my own before I can even think to stop it.
I can’t say that I mind the unexpected affection a bit.
Especially considering the way my nerves have been like piranhas this last stretch of the drive, chewing me down to the bones.
“Mama,” Gavin drawls, his voice already sounding more accented than before. “Let’s not maul our guest, please.”
“Mind your business, boy,” she says in a mocking tone that makes me chuckle.
“Zoey is my business,” Gavin says, and I can’t help but meet his eyes over his mother’s shoulder.
There’s a look in them that makes a shiver travel from my toes up to my head, one that I hope his mother doesn’t feel. Heat flares through me, until the weight of his words sinks in. Business . Keep this to business . Yeah right!
His mother squeezes me even tighter, reminding me of just how futile it is to think that I can keep up any boundaries. I’m locked into what has to be the longest hug between two strangers in the history of the western world. Call me desperate, but I am here for it.
And then she walks me up to the edge of the emotional cliff I’ve been hovering near and shoves me right off.
“I’ve never had a daughter,” she says.
No, she didn’t .
She did not say the kind of words that have the power to flay my heart wide open.
Except she did, and I struggle to keep my emotions from erupting like some kind of geological event.
Now, I’m clutching her like a lifeline. Because I know if she lets me go now, it will be painfully obvious that I am a complete wreck.
So much for distance. I can’t get much more tied up than this.
In my two years of crushing on Gavin, I did not one time imagine meeting his parents. Any time I did indulge in letting my mind consider us together, it was things like a stolen kiss in the elevator or a romantic dinner date.
Not … coming back to his family’s ranch and letting his mother hug the daylights out of me, telling me that she never had a daughter.
Yet, here I am. And I already want it to be something that it’s not. I want to be meeting his parents as his girlfriend, not his surprise daughter’s nanny. I want to be more to him, more to his mom. Why didn’t I just say yes when he asked me to come?
Keep it together, Zo. Keep it together.
But tears burn my eyes as I squeeze them shut. I hate being a cliché—the girl who lost her mother and now is desperate for this kind of motherly embrace.
Who am I kidding? That’s exactly who I am. I squeeze her tighter. Thankfully, she doesn’t let up either, allowing me the time to suck those tears back where they came from.
Is this awkward? I don’t even care.
“It’s so nice to meet you, dear,” his mother says, her words tickling the hairs on the back of my neck.
“You too.”
“We really didn’t expect this.”
I laugh, grateful that I’ve chased my tears away. For now. They’ve been replaced by a bubbling up of giddy joy. “Neither did I.”
Maybe the earth is still spinning just as it did before, but the last few days have changed the orbit of my own small world.
I feel like I’m living in some kind of reverse modern fairy tale.
One with a murky middle and an ambiguous ending.
I’ve followed a trail of breadcrumbs and am standing in front of a house made of candy.
I’m sure that somewhere, a witch in the form of a massive reality check is waiting to stuff me in an oven.
When she pulls back, still holding my shoulders with hands that are somehow both soft and calloused, I study her face.
Round and lined around her eyes with a wide smile, she’s like the embodiment of welcome.
Her eyes are the same rich brown as Gavin’s, but she’s nowhere near his—or even my—height.
Her hair is a wild tangle of white curls, framing her face and stopping just above her shoulders.
“You’re the most beautiful woman Gavin’s ever brought home. Even with that shiner. I bet there’s a story there. You’ll have to tell me while I’m fixing supper.”
I swear I hear Gavin choking somewhere behind me, and any minute now, my cheeks are going to go up in flames.
“Don’t listen to my lovely wife. You’re the only woman he’s brought home,” Gavin’s father says in a deep voice with an even deeper accent. “Scoot over, dear. It’s my turn.”
And then I’m enveloped in a second hug by Gavin’s father, my cheek crushed into a soft flannel shirt. Thankfully, he doesn’t hold on to me as long as his mother did.
He steps back, looking every bit the rugged rancher stereotype with his worn jeans, big belt buckle, and scuffed boots.
His face is an older, more weather-worn version of Gavin’s, with gray hair just peeking out from under his cowboy hat.
His smile is wide, white, and every bit as warm as Gavin’s mother.
His hug distracted me momentarily from his words, but my mind scurries right back. Did he say the only girl to come here? Did Gavin’s ex-wife never visit the ranch and his parents? I bite back my questions, filing them away for another time.
“This girl knows how to hug,” Gavin’s mama says.
Gavin gives me a sideways look. “Good to know,” he murmurs so that only I can hear. At least, I hope only I can hear. My Magic 8-Ball predicts the outlook is good for awkward times ahead.
“I’m glad to see you’re not playing favorites or anything,” Gavin says in a wry voice, giving his mother a hug. “It’s good to see you too, Mama. Daddy.”
“Oh, shut up, you,” his mother says, swatting Gavin’s shoulder before he picks her up, swinging her around and making her squeal.
We’ve been here for five minutes, and it’s like Gavin has shed a weighted blanket of worry. He’s lighter, easier, happier. His accent thicker, his smile wider. It’s not going to do anything good for my crush except give it a swift shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.
Gavin sets his mother down and then he and his father give each other one of those manly hugs punctuated with slaps on the back, like they’re trying to see how hard they can smack each other without being the first to cry uncle.
“Is that your little girl?” Mrs. Brownell peeks in the back windows of the truck, where miraculously, Ella is still curled up against the door, asleep.
Gavin’s face clouds a bit, like he’s unsure of the emotions he should be feeling right now. “That’s Ella,” he says gruffly, shooting me a quick look.
I give him a reassuring smile. His father slings an arm over his shoulder and says something quietly in his ear that has him nodding, a muscle flexing in his handsome jaw.
“Should you carry her inside? It’s almost time for supper, but if she’s tired, you could just put her in bed,” his mother says.
“I think she’s overwhelmed with the events of the last day or so.” Gavin shifts uncomfortably, looking from his mother to Ella’s car door. When his eyes land on me, I recognize the panic there.
“I’ll get her,” I say, placing my hand on the door handle. “She seems to have gotten used to me.”