CHAPTER 10
I knock on Ms. Lucy’s front door, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. When the door swings open, my heart nearly stops, instead of Ms. Lucy’s familiar warm smile greeting me, I find myself staring up into Gavin’s amber eyes.
I blink rapidly, confusion washing over me. “Gavin? What are you…I mean, hi.”
“Hey there, Bailey.” He leans against the doorframe, casual and confident.
I mentally scold myself. Stop it, Bailey. You’re not here to admire him. You’re here for Sophie.
“I’m here to pick up Sophie,” I explain, trying to ignore how he smiles. “Is Ms. Lucy around?”
“She’s in the kitchen.” He steps back, inviting me in. “Fair warning though, I think there might be a change of plans.”
The familiar scent of Ms. Lucy’s home wraps around me as I step inside. Cinnamon and old wood with a hint of something savory cooking. I follow Gavin through to the kitchen where Sophie sits at the table, her little legs swinging as she colors intently.
“Mommy!” Sophie spots me and waves her crayon in the air. “We’re having ‘sketti!” She pushes out of her chair and runs up and gives me the biggest hug.
Ms. Lucy turns from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “There you are dear! I hope you don’t mind, but Jake and I thought we’d feed this little angel dinner. She’s been helping me all afternoon with the garden.”
Jake tips his weathered cowboy hat from across the kitchen. “She’s got quite the green thumb, just like her mama.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I don’t want to impose-”
“Nonsense,” Ms. Lucy waves the spoon dismissively. “There’s plenty for everyone. Gavin here was down at the barn with Jake checking on Daisy’s new calf. Poor thing needed some after-hours attention.”
“She’s doing fine now,” Gavin is quick to mention. “Just needed some antibiotics.”
“So, we invited him to stay for dinner too,” Ms. Lucy continues. “No sense in anyone eating alone when we’ve got a table full of good food and even better company.”
Sophie looks up at me with hopeful eyes. “Can we stay, Mommy? Please?”
I hesitate, caught between the warmth of this impromptu gathering and my instinct to keep my distance. But the pleading tone in Sophie’s voice breaks my resolve.
“Well, if you’re sure there’s enough…”
“More than enough,” Ms. Lucy assures me. “Now, wash up and grab a seat. Jake just finished up with the garlic bread.”
I take my seat at Ms. Lucy’s oak dining table, the wood worn smooth from years of use. Sophie climbs into the chair next to me, her face bright with excitement. The sight of her happiness eases some of my tension, but I can’t shake the nagging feeling that’s been festering the last few hours.
Ms. Lucy bustles around, setting steaming plates of spaghetti in front of everyone. The aroma of garlic and herbs fills the air, and my stomach growls despite my unease. Jake and Gavin sit across from us.
“Here you go, honey.” Ms. Lucy places a plate in front of me. “And would you like some wine? I have a lovely red that pairs perfectly with pasta.”
My chest tightens. The word ‘wine’ triggers a flash of memory, Matt sprawled in his recliner, whiskey bottle dangling from his fingers, amber liquid sloshing inside. The sharp smell of alcohol on his breath as he’d lurch toward me, his words slurring into threats.
“No, thank you.” I manage to keep my voice steady. “Just water is fine.”
I see Gavin watching me, he must have noticed my delay in responding. I drop my gaze to my plate, twirling pasta around my fork. The food looks amazing, but my appetite has dwindled.
Sophie talks away beside me, telling me about the flowers she helped plant. “And Ms. Lucy says the yellow ones are gonna be real pretty when they grow up!”
“That they will, sweetheart.” Ms. Lucy calls out from the kitchen. “Marigolds are hardy little things. Just like you.”
The conversation flows around me, and I catch pieces of it as I listen in. Ms. Lucy, seated at the head of the table, talks about her garden and the tomatoes she swears are the best in the county. Jake shares a story from the ranch, his hands animated and Gavin adds the occasional comment. Some quick fact or funny moment from one of the animals he’s treated here. I hear their voices, follow the rhythm of their laughter, nod at the right moments. It should feel easy, but even as I sit there, part of me stays quiet, listening more to the noise in my head than the voices at the table.
“Bailey?” Ms. Lucy’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “You’ve barely touched your food, dear. Is everything alright?”
I force a smile. “Everything’s delicious. I just…” I trail off, not knowing how to explain without sounding ungrateful.
“Mommy, are you tired from your work?” Sophie questions, sauce smeared around her mouth.
Ms. Lucy reaches over and pats my hand. The gesture is meant to be comforting, but it makes me want to pull away. “Mary Beth tells me you have quite the talent for arrangements.”
“Thank you.” I take a sip of water, trying to ground myself.
Gavin leans forward. “You know, my clinic could use some freshening up. Maybe you could recommend something that would survive in an office full of animals?”
“I-” My voice catches as I meet his gaze. Those amber eyes wait patiently for my response, no pressure, just interest. “Snake plants are practically indestructible. They tolerate low light and irregular watering. Perfect for a busy vet’s office.” I supply in an effort to get the attention off of me.
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. My anxiety is a familiar weight, pressing against my ribs, making each breath feel shallow. I can barely focus on the conversation as it continues around me—Ms. Lucy talking about her garden plans for the fall, Jake mentioning something about fence repairs, Gavin sharing a story about a stubborn goat he treated last week.
I should be participating, should be smiling and nodding at the right moments. But my mind keeps racing, replaying every decision that led me here.
I sneak a glance at Sophie and notice she’s gone quiet. Her little hand pushes spaghetti around her plate, her earlier enthusiasm dimmed. She’s always been so attuned to my moods, picking up on my anxiety like it’s a scent in the air. The realization sends a pang of guilt through me.
“You okay, baby?” I whisper, leaning closer to her.
She looks up at me and nods, but I can see the uncertainty there. My sweet, sensitive girl, always trying to be brave.
I reach over and take her small hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her fingers curl around mine immediately, holding on tight.
“Everything’s good,” I whisper, just for her. “Mommy’s just thinking too much.”
Sophie’s lips quirk up in a small smile and I brush a strand of blonde hair from her forehead.
The simple contact with her grounds me, pulls me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts. I focus on the warmth of her hand.
I take another deep breath, this one reaching deeper into my lungs. The conversation continues around us, but now it feels less like waves threatening to pull me under and more like a gentle current I can choose to step into when I’m ready.
Releasing Sophie’s hand, I take a bite of the garlic bread.
“Oh wow, these are dangerous,” I say looking up to Ms. Lucy. “I could probably eat the whole basket.”
“Go right ahead, honey,” she encourages. “I made plenty.”
Jake reaches for the salad bowl, loading his plate with fresh greens. “Ms. Lucy’s garden has been producing like crazy lately. These tomatoes are from right out back.”
I take a bite of the salad that I loaded my smaller plate with, and sure enough, the cherry tomatoes burst with flavor that only comes from being freshly picked. The homemade vinaigrette is light and perfectly balanced, complementing the vegetables without overpowering them.
“Oh my goodness, what sort of magic did you put in all this food?” I try to savor each bite, knowing Sophie is still acutely tuned to me. If I eat, she’ll eat.
“The garden’s doing well because Jake here takes such good care of it,” Ms. Lucy points out, and I notice his cheeks redden slightly at the praise.
“Speaking of the garden,” Gavin says, turning slightly toward me, “When I was down at the barn earlier, I noticed the grass out front’s getting a bit long. If you want, I can swing by later this week and take care of it for you.”
I blink, surprised. The offer is so simple, so casual, but it knocks the wind out of me for a second. People don’t usually offer to help—at least, not without expecting something in return. My first instinct is to say no, to tell him I’ve got it covered, even though I clearly don’t.
“That’s… really kind of you. Thank you,” I say instead, my voice a little more careful than I mean it to be. I force a small smile, but my fingers fidget under the table
Matt never wanted to deal with the lawn, so it always looked wild. We even got multiple citations from the city because the grass got too long during the spring.
I glance at Gavin, trying to read his expression. Is this just a nice gesture, or is there an unspoken expectation buried beneath it? My chest tightens with the familiar weight of doubt. I hate that I question kindness now, but it’s hard not to.
As dinner winds down, I watch Sophie scrape some of the sauce from her plate with a crust of garlic bread, just like Gavin did. The meal has been delicious, and despite my earlier anxiety, I’ve managed to relax enough to enjoy it.
“That was wonderful, Ms. Lucy,” I say, standing and gathering my plate and Sophie’s. “Please let me clean up. It’s the least I can do after you cooked such an amazing meal.”
“Oh honey, you don’t have to—”
“Please, I insist,” I interrupt gently. “My mom always taught me that whoever cooks shouldn’t have to clean.”
“Well, I can’t argue with good advice from someone’s mama, now can I?” She concedes with a smile. “Jake and I can take Sophie out to see the fireflies if she’d like. They’re just starting to come out.”
Sophie’s eyes light up. “Fireflies? Can I catch them?”
“Just stay with Ms. Lucy, okay?”
“I can help with the dishes,” Gavin offers, already stacking plates.
I pause, my hands full of silverware. The thought of being alone with him makes my stomach flutter, not entirely from anxiety.
“Thank you,” I hear myself say, though part of me wants to refuse.
As they head outside, Sophie’s excitement fading into the evening air, I find myself alone with Gavin in Ms. Lucy’s kitchen. I fill the sink with soapy water, hyper aware of his presence as he gathers the remaining dishes.
“I’ll wash, you dry?” I suggest keeping my voice casual despite the nervous energy buzzing through my entire body..
“Works for me.” He picks up a dish towel and stands beside me, close enough that I can smell his cologne—it’s woodsy and clean.
I plunge my hands into the warm water, focusing on scrubbing a plate. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I’m sure you have better things to do than wash dishes with a stranger.”
“We’re hardly strangers, Bailey,” he says, accepting the wet plate I hand him. “And honestly, there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now.”
His words hang in the air between us. I risk a glance at him, finding him already watching me. He’s nothing like Matt. His gaze is warm, patient, without a hint of the calculation I’d grown so accustomed to seeing. I look away quickly, but something inside me settles.
“Well, then,” I say, passing him another clean dish, “I guess we’d better get these done before the fireflies are gone.”
Gavin chuckles, a deep, warm sound. “You know, you’re not what I expected when I first met you at the fair.”
“Oh?” I glance up from the soapy water. “What did you expect?”
He shrugs, carefully drying a glass. “I’m not sure. But there’s something about you… you’re stronger than you let on.”
The compliment catches me off guard, and I focus intently on scrubbing a stubborn spot on a plate. A comfortable silence falls between us, punctuated only by the soft clink of dishes and the distant sound of Sophie’s delighted giggles floating through the open window.
Gavin clears his throat. “Bailey, I was wondering if maybe… if you’d like to have dinner with me sometime?”
My hands freeze in the dishwater. The plate I’m holding slips slightly.
“Not here,” he adds quickly. “Somewhere nice. Just the two of us.”
“You mean like… a date?” The word feels foreign on my tongue.
“Yeah.” He sets down the towel, turning to face me fully. “I don’t want to seem too forward, and if you’re not interested, I completely understand.”
If Matt found out, he’d lose it.
The thought slams into me with such force that I nearly gasp. Matt’s face flashes in my mind, contorted with rage, veins bulging in his forehead. I can almost hear his voice: Who the hell do you think you are? You think anyone else would want you?
But Matt isn’t here. He doesn’t know where we are.
“I…” My throat feels tight.
Part of me wants to say yes. Gavin has been nothing but kind and gentle, everything Matt wasn’t.
Another part of me, the part that still flinches at sudden movements and checks over my shoulder in public places, screams danger. What if this is me just repeating the same cycle? Meeting a charming man that turns out to be not so charming? Can I even trust my own instincts?
“You don’t have to answer now,” he says softly, noticing my hesitation.
I look up at him, at his patient expression, and something inside me rebels against the fear.
“No, I… I’d like that,” I say, surprising even myself. “Dinner sounds nice.”
The smile that spreads across his face makes my heart flutter in a way I’d almost forgotten it could.
“Great,” he says, picking up the towel again. “How about Friday? I know a place in town that makes amazing steaks.”
“Friday works,” I reply, turning back to the dishes, a small smile playing at my lips despite the anxiety still churning beneath the surface.
I hand Gavin the last dish. The kitchen stands spotless now, counters wiped down and leftovers stored away in containers.
“So,” I say, drying my hands on a dish towel, “I should probably give you my number then. For Friday.” The words come out more hesitant than I intended.
“That would be great.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to me.
I stare at the blank contact form for a moment longer than necessary. Such a simple thing, sharing my number, yet it feels monumental. The last man who had my number used it to track my whereabouts, to check up on me, to control me. I shake the thought away and type in my information, trying to ignore the warning bells still ringing faintly in my head.
“There,” I say, handing the phone back.
“I’ll text you so you have mine too.” He taps the screen a few times.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a message: Looking forward to Friday -Gavin
I smile softly. “Now you’re in my phone too.”
Through the window, I can see Sophie still chasing fireflies with Ms. Lucy, her little hands cupped gently as she tries to capture the glowing insects. The sight grounds me, reminds me why I need to be careful.
“She’s having a blast out there,” he says, following my gaze.
“Yeah, she is.” I tuck my phone away. “She deserves this, normal moments, happy memories.”
“You both do,” he says quietly.
I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of the manipulation I’ve grown so accustomed to. But all I see is sincerity in his eyes.
“I should probably get her home soon. It’s past her bedtime already.”
“Of course.” He nods, taking a step back to give me space. “I’ll walk you both back to your place when you’re ready.”
The offer is simple, thoughtful even, but my guard rises automatically. “That’s not necessary. We’re just across the property.”
“Right,” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry.”
“No, I—” I stop myself. “Thank you for offering. Maybe next time.”