Chapter Twenty Two #2
I’m one of the last people who can tell her who her mama was. Who can keep her tethered to where she came from—even if all I’ve got are the rose-tinted memories of a kid in love.
“I don’t want to miss anything,” I admit, voice low.
“Not her first steps. Not the dumb little things like tantrums or bedtime books, or brushing her teeth. Wanna be there for all of it. Wanna be the one who makes sure she doesn’t feel even a second of what she’s lost when she’s already lost everything. ”
I swallow hard, chest tight, and rub at the ache. “All I want is for her to know love. Not the ghost of her parents. Not the outline of the man who’s supposed to be standing in their place. I want to be there. Really there. As much as I can be.”
Just like my dad was for me, for my whole family.
Griffin nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “Good. Because I’m opening a private security firm right here in Heart Springs.”
I blink. “You’re what?”
“Want you and Wilder to do it with me.”
Shock rolls through me again—but this time, excitement follows. I grin, shaking my head in disbelief. “Alright, man. I’m in.”
Now he’s the one to gape. “Just like that?”
“Not sure there’s much need for security in Summit.” I shrug and start walking again. “But if it gets you both here, and keeps us all sane, I’ll do whatever you want.”
Griffin barks a laugh and opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off with a glare.
“I’m not giving you my truck. Don’t even fuckin’ ask again.”
He starts to argue, but I grab his jacket and come to an abrupt halt.
“What?” he mutters, yanking free.
I jerk my chin toward the front window of Snug as a Mug, where Wilder is practically sprawled across the white waterfall counter, dimples blazing, hands braced like he’s mid-sexual innuendo, as Tabby Whitt blinks her doe eyes up at him.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, charging forward. “Asshole’s gonna get himself arrested.”
The bell above the door jingles a second before it hits the wall with a thud. Griff’s boots thunder in behind me.
“No!” I bark, grabbing Wilder by the collar. “Back away from her, man.”
Tabby’s eyes go wide, but Wilder just scoffs and swats my hand off him.
“What the fuck, Archer?” He groans, snatching his iced coffee off the counter. “We were just talking.”
“No,” I grumble, shoving him toward the exit. “You were just one dirty joke away from lock up.”
He digs in, shooting me a confused look. “She’s twenty, dude. I’m not some creep. Give me a little credit.”
Griff chuckles, tossing a ten in the tip jar with a wink. He nods his chin like it’s a cowboy hat and lays his Southern drawl on thick. “Have a nice day, miss.”
I shove Wilder out the door, Griff right behind us, and steer him toward my truck.
“Her dad is the sheriff,” I mutter. “And a raging bull where his baby girl’s concerned. Doesn’t matter if she’s only five years younger than you, he’ll kick your ass just for lookin’ at her.”
Wilder takes a long pull from his straw and glances over his shoulder like he might go back anyway. Griffin clocks him on the back of the head.
Wilder stumbles into my truck with a curse. “What the fuck, man? Jesus—you forget how massive you are?”
“Actually, I did.” Griff opens the back door and gestures grandly. “Thanks for the reminder. I’m way too massive for the back. Climb in, princess.”
“No.” Wilder crosses his arms, glaring between us. “I’m not doing it again. My knees still hurt from the last time.”
Scoffing, I yank open the driver’s door and climb behind the wheel. “Get in the back or ride in the cab—I don’t give a shit. But I’m leaving.” I glance at my watch, and a full-body shudder rolls through me. “You assholes kept me out too long, and I still need to clean before Ethel shows up.”
They stare each other down for a beat before Wilder finally huffs and folds his giant frame into the too-small back seat. Griffin cackles and slams the door before climbing in up front.
“Thank fuck,” I mutter, pulling onto the road.
Downtown bleeds into country, and I lose myself in thoughts of my never ending to do list.
We’re almost back to my place when my phone vibrates. I tug it from my pocket, and my heart skips a beat when I see the name on the screen.
“Turn it down, it’s the social worker,” I bark, heart hammering.
Fuck, what if she’s canceling? What if something happened to Aurora? What if I already messed shit up before—
Wilder flicks my cheek. “Answer it!”
Swallowing hard, I swipe and bring the phone to my ear. “This is Kade.”
“Mr. Archer, it’s Ethel Sorrenson,” she says, her voice kind but professional. “Just calling to let you know the final inspection went great. You did a wonderful job on the house—I’m thoroughly impressed with how quickly you pulled it together.”
The truck swerves, my breath catching in my lungs. Griff’s arm shoots out, correcting the wheel, eyes wide and panicked.
What the hell? She already did the inspection? How?
“Uh…” I clear my throat, brows drawn tight. “Thank you.” I shoot the guys a confused look. “Sorry, ma’am, did I miss the meeting? I thought it was set for five?”
“Oh, no. I was free this morning, and figured I’d pop in. Your mom said you were out shopping for Aurora and let me in. No big deal—I got what I needed.”
I exhale slowly, nodding even though she can’t see me. “Okay. Well, thanks.”
She chuckles. “I can tell I caught you off guard. Anyway, I’ve already shared my findings with Judge Romero, and he’s signed off on everything.”
Holy shit.
“Once you sign the paperwork I emailed over, we’ll get it processed. Aurora will likely be with you by Monday or Tuesday.”
“Monday…” I echo, dazed as I turn into Honey Bea. “That’s fast.”
Ethel laughs softly. “This town’s small—things tend to move quickly. Especially when there’s a valid will and everything’s legally in order. At this point, it’s just checking boxes.”
My chest tightens. It’s really happening.
“And after?” I ask, my voice thick. “How long do I need to wait to file for adoption?”
There’s a pause, then a warm sigh.
“I’m really glad you’re taking this seriously. If I’ve seen anything over the last few weeks, it’s how committed you are. As far as adoption goes, I’ll bring the paperwork when I drop Aurora off next week, and we’ll go over it together. Sound good?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for everything. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, have a great weekend, Mr. Archer.”
She hangs up just as I’m pulling into my new gravel driveway. I throw it in park and lower my phone, jaw unhinged, body thrumming with excitement, and shock.
“What did she say?” Wilder shouts, slapping my seat. “Dude! You can’t leave us hanging like this.”
“She’s mine,” I mutter, swallowing hard. “Aurora is mine.”
And for some crazy, unknown reason, all I want is to tell Georgia.