Chapter 28
Jules
“Are you okay, darlin’?”
I look up into the pretty blue eyes of a woman.
The blues of hers are much softer than mine, like a cornflower color, and I realize that blue eyes can be more warm than cold sometimes.
Her blonde hair is all done up to perfection on top of her head, not a strand out of place.
She’s wearing high rise skinny jeans and a crop top that shows off a bit of skin.
Somehow, she looks more comforting than I’ve ever been able to.
“I’m . . . fine,” I croak, rubbing at my forehead.
“Are you sure?” she asks, clearly worried. “It’s just that . . . you’re sittin’ on the dirty concrete, pale as a ghost, and clearly one beat away from losin’ it.”
Wincing, I look up at her. Her southern accent is thick, far thicker than the accent everyone else here seems to have. She’s not originally from here, that’s clear.
“Just, you know . . . panic attacks,” I say nonchalantly, waving away her concern. “I’m fine now that it’s passed.”
“Oof,” she says, taking a seat against the wall beside me. I stare at her in surprise as she sets down a bag beside her and leans her head back. “I know all about those.” She turns toward me. “I’m Naomi, by the way.”
“Jules,” I reply.
“Nice to meet you, Jules.” She studies me more closely. “I ain’t seen you around her before, but I noticed you were hangin’ out with the Udder Nonsense boys. They didn’t do somethin’ to upset you, did they?”
“No,” I reply quickly. “No, they’re great. Just . . . my own stuff.” At her suspicious look, I add, “I’m a mom.”
Her eyes light up as if it all makes sense now. “Oh, good god. Me, too. I swear my daughter likes to give me a heart attack once a week. How old is yours?”
“Thirteen months,” I reply.
Naomi whistles. “A baby! You’re in for a real treat as they grow older.
Mine just turned twelve and let me tell you, when they start parroting your attitude back to you, it’s a whole other beast,” she says, laughing despite her words.
It’s clear she loves her daughter dearly in the way she smiles about it. “Bein’ a mom is hard, ain’t it?”
“The hardest,” I nod, tipping my head back. “I worry every day that I’m a bad mom.”
“Ah, see, that’s how you know you’re a good one,” she replies, bumping her shoulder with mine. At my questioning look, she continues. “Bad moms don’t worry if they’re bad or not. Only the good ones do.”
My brows furrow as I think about her words.
I’ve been struggling to figure out the mom thing since Genie was born.
I had no one to ask, to turn to, so I’ve mostly been going off of what research I could find online.
Mostly, I just know what kind of mom I don’t want to be, like my own, and I’ve gone from there.
But Naomi’s words spear into my chest and settle there.
The last dregs of the panic attack ease.
“Thank you,” I croak, pressing my hand against my chest. “Seriously.”
“Oh, it ain’t no thing,” Naomi laughs. She looks back into the street and curses.
“I need to go man my booth now, but if you need anything at all, Jules, come find me.” She reaches into her bag and passes me a jar full of liquid.
“Maybe next time we can sit at a bar and talk about mom stuff. I’ll complain about my tween stealing all my makeup and you can tell me what new mischief your little one has gotten up to. Deal?”
I won’t be here for that. I can’t stay here. Still, I say, “Deal,” with a tight smile and look down at the jar. “What is this?”
“Cherry moonshine,” she says brightly. “Made it myself. It’s my bestseller right now. Have you a shot of that and it’ll perk you right up.” She winks at me and stands. “It was nice to meet you, Jules. Say hi to the boys from Udder Nonsense from me, would ya?”
And then she flounces away, leaving me lighter and somehow also heavier all at once. But my panic attack has passed, so . . . I suppose she was successful either way.
I spend the rest of the farmer’s market strolling around the city of Steele, checking out the other vendors and avoiding the men of Udder Nonsense Farm as much as I’m able to.
I end up buying some fresh honey from another local ranch, Circle Bee Farms, after a bubbly woman named Fable convinces me I absolutely have to try it.
I bypass the steak at the Steele Mountain Ranch booth, but do buy a small leather wallet from them that’s so beautifully made, I couldn’t resist. The rest of the booths have everything from crochet dolls to fresh fruits and veggies to coffee beans.
I’ve never been to a farmer’s market with so much variety.
Next time, I’ll have to bring Genie. She would like all the bright colored dolls.
As I’m walking through the streets, taking it all in, their words filter back in before I can stop them.
Stay a bit longer. That’s all.
Like it’s the easiest decision in the world.
Like I can just up and choose this place without any other consideration.
We’ve known each other for a matter of weeks.
And sure, they’re not asking me for anything permanent yet, just a little more time.
But if I stay longer, I can almost guarantee I’ll give them my heart.
Cash, Oak, and Sawyer are so different from any sort of men I’ve dated.
From Cash’s wild unpredictability to Sawyer’s passionate talks about cheese, to Oak’s stoic and gentle support, each of them brings something unique.
And . . . are they asking me to date all of them?
I know for collaboration purposes, we’ve all been joining in, but . . . I should probably ask about that.
Despite knowing I should ask, I’m quiet on the car ride back to the farm.
There’s more to think about than just me.
They don’t know anything about me, things they should definitely know if they’re considering loving me in any capacity, but on top of that, there’s Genie to think about.
I have to protect her. I have to keep her a secret from my father.
If he even gets wind that I had a baby while I’ve been gone, I don’t want to think about the extent he’d go to get her.
The gates to the dairy farm appear in front of us, both a welcome sight and not. I want to talk to them. I need to, but I can’t. I can’t bring myself to ask the important questions. I can’t bring myself to think about what it would mean to stay.
It’s just too damn dangerous for someone like me to fall in love.
My chest aches, but not because of my dilemma.
As we drive over the bumpy gravel road, my breasts start to ache.
I reach up and try to discreetly ease the ache, but since I’ve been trying to ween Genie off of breastmilk and no longer pump, the ache comes and goes.
Sometimes, it’s manageable. Other times, like now, it’s fucking distracting.
“You okay?” Oak asks, looking at me in the mirror.
“Yeah,” I say too quickly, and wince when his gaze falls to where I’m literally cupping my boob. He raises his brow and I sigh. “Just post breast feeding troubles. They ache a lot.”
He hums under his breath, and something flashes in his eyes that I don’t exactly understand. My brows furrow as I tilt my head, studying him.
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
He shakes his head. “I’ll . . . tell you when we stop.”
So we all fall back into a heavy silence until Oak pulls the truck into the driveway and parks it close to the main house.
Before I can so much as open my door, Cash is there, opening it for me and offering his hand for me to get out.
I take it without thinking, and that’s probably the biggest tell of how much danger I’m in.
I’ve gotten too comfortable with them all.
Sawyer comes over and pulls me into a hug I don’t expect once I’ve cleared the truck.
I’m always surprised with how fast he moves considering he can’t see as much.
With the sun falling in the sky now, it’s even more difficult.
Low light is dangerous. But he moves from memory a lot, using his senses in a way I know I’ll never be able to do.
His arms are warm around me, and I settle into the heady scent of him—teakwood and mahogany—while he holds me together.
I don’t know why he’s offering comfort, but I take it anyway.
When he releases me, Cash takes over, hugging me tightly and setting his chin on the top of my head. “It’s gonna be okay, Jules,” he says. “No matter what.”
I blink, and when he steps back, I study his face. Of course, Cash only grins at me, which confuses me more.
“What exactly is happening here?” I ask, looking between the three of them.
“See you later,” Cash calls, grabbing Sawyer’s arm and leading him away from the truck.
Which leaves only Oak and I standing beside it. The large man studies me carefully, and then his eyes dip down to my chest.
“They still ache?” he asks.
I nod. “They’ll do it for a while unfortunately. Just part of it.”
He hesitates, the keys in his hand jingling as he seems to think about what to say next. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “I . . . could help.”
I freeze, my eyes on his. “Help how?”
His lips quirk and he shoves the keys in his pocket before holding his hand out to me. I stare at it. “Trust me?” he says.
“We hardly know each other,” I remind him.
He shrugs and keeps his hand out for me to take. I look between it and his face, trying to decide what to do. I’m curious as hell what he means and how he can help. Part of me is wary of his so-called help, but the other part . . .