23. Clover
TWENTY-THREE
Clover
It’s hot as hell again as I drive with my father to go see a farm. He’s finally found one worth purchasing, according to him anyway, and I really hope that this will be the one.
He needs out of that apartment.
Of course, it’s not the only thing I’m thinking about as we pull up to the lovely white farmhouse on the large plot of land. No, I’m also dwelling on the fact that, for the first time, I’m keeping something from my dad.
I’ve never done that, especially not after Mom died.
But what the fuck am I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, Dad, I’m dating, or I guess maybe dating, Brooks. You know, your best friend and the guy you got me a job with as a nanny. You cool?
Yeah, that would not play over well.
I know I can’t keep the truth from him forever, and honestly, I don’t want to. I want to be able to talk to him about this because being with Brooks makes me feel…incredible.
It’s been longer than I care to admit since I’ve dated someone, even longer since I had sex, and even longer than that since I’ve actually felt capable of giving my heart to someone.
We’re not there yet, but I can see it. I can see being with Brooks, and that’s a change that I can’t ignore—a change I want to talk to my father about.
“Well, come on, kiddo. Let’s go have a look.”
Dad turns off the car, and we both get out to go look at the house. It’s so big, so much bigger than his awful apartment, and the exterior is picture-perfect—white shutters on light blue shingles, with cookie-cutter trim and a wraparound porch.
God, it’s so beautiful.
We walk up to the porch, and Dad finds the hide-a-key that the real estate agent left for us to use. He unlocks the house, and as we step inside, both of us let out a little gasp.
It’s stunning. And yes, I’m well aware that the house has been staged, but it doesn’t matter. If this is the bones my dad is working with, he’s in excellent shape.
The walls have been freshly painted in a delicate cream, and sheer curtains cover the plethora of windows that surround the airy living room. The floors are a deep brown, the rustic flare of mismatched boards intact.
“Dad, this is?—”
“Perfect.” I look over to see him smiling, the shimmer of tears clinging to his eyes. “Oh, Clover, it’s just what I imagined.”
There are small touches that make the place feel so lived in and real. There are hooks by the door to hang your stuff, and the light fixtures are all this aged brass. Thick beams of wood run across the length of the ceiling, and there’s a massive fireplace along the far wall.
“It really is lovely, Dad.”
We walk through the large living room toward the kitchen and dining room at the back of the first floor. It’s clean and tidy, but the open shelves with their imperfect charm and brick-surrounded oven make the place feel that much more cozy.
Plus, the table is apparently included with the house because there’s a little sign on it that says, “Have a seat. I’m part of the home.”
I sit down, looking around at all the rustic country charm, and my heart aches a little. I know how much Mom would’ve loved this, and it stings.
“Hey, you alright?”
My dad comes and sits by me. Clearly, he’s damn good at reading me. I sigh, shaking my head with a crooked grin.
“Mom would’ve loved this.”
With a similar sigh, Dad nods. “She would have, yeah. It’s just like the kind she always talked about.”
Before I can stop myself, I sniffle through a brief sob, sucking in air to try and force the emotions away.
“Oh, honey.” Dad circles his arms around me. “I miss her, too.”
I let myself fall apart a little—just for a moment—and then I sit up, shaking myself. “You should buy it. It’s just right.”
“It is, isn’t it.” Dad glances around the house, his grin widening with each second. “I like to think your mom would approve. I can see her in this kitchen, putting on a kettle for tea and humming a little song. Maybe she’ll come and visit me here.”
Dad doesn’t stop the tear that drips down his face, and I squeeze my arms around him, letting the moment just…be.
“Well, let’s check out the rest. I want to see the upstairs,” Dad announces, and I follow him up.
We peruse the small but uncramped bedrooms, the master being the largest of the four total rooms. One is currently set up as an office, and Dad remarks that he likes that idea.
I peek into the master, walking into the space and dragging my eyes across every surface. There are a few more hand-me- down furniture pieces included in the house in here, with little signs on them all.
The room is still that warm white color, and the wrought-iron bed on the far wall has white sheets. It’s included, apparently, and I notice the small patchwork chair next to it—faded from the sun but in good condition— is included too.
There’s also a closet in the master bedroom. It sits beneath the steepled part of the roof, and it offers a rack for clothes on the right with a dresser on the left of the narrow passage. At the back, there’s another smaller dresser, and they even put a rug in here—cream and tan and blue, all faded.
There’s a bathroom attached to the master suite, with a free-standing tub beneath a bright window—small panels in the glass framed by thin pieces of brown wood—and a bowl sink that looks just perfect.
I walk over to it, smoothing my fingers across the white porcelain that sits on top of a table-like base, the wood very worn, but purposefully so. Storage baskets sit on the shelf beneath it, and a mirror in a picture frame hangs just in front of me.
God, it’s so quiet here, so still in this beautiful empty house.
The other bathroom between the two rooms is on the opposite side of the house. And I join Dad over there having a look.
This one is very different than the master—much more ornate, whereas the other one was simple. The wood beams still run across the ceiling like they have everywhere, but here, they’ve been dusted with white paint.
“Look at the wallpaper,” Dad offers, a smile curving his lips.
I step closer, admiring the sweet wallpaper that depicts curving branches that are just sprouting flowers, making me think of spring. There’s a valance and curtain over the window that backdrops the tub, too.
It matches the wallpaper, except not exactly. It’s the same color scheme, same theme. Still, the flowers stand by themselves without branches, tiny little bundles set into diamond shapes.
The tub has actual feet—iron and intricately designed. The mirror in here is also framed, but this one has a massive trim along the top like you’d see over a doorway. The sink is set into a cabinet that perfectly complements the mirror, and everything in here is lighter.
There’s even a medium-sized chandelier in the ceiling, dark metal similar to the claw feet, the fixtures, and the small bars along the wall to hold towels.
“What were the other bedrooms like?”
Dad turns to me, holding out a hand for us to leave. “They were mostly empty, just some small beds, but really nice. Clean and bright.”
When we finish checking everything out, Dad and I walk back out onto the porch. The wind is warm, and I can hear the constant drone of crickets and cicadas singing.
“This is the house I’ve been waiting for, Clover. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I’m so happy for you, Dad.” I hug him again. “So you’re going to call the realtor?”
He nods. “I am.”
“Thank God because you needed to get out of that tiny ass apartment.”
Dad laughs, and I join him after eyeing him playfully. I’m genuinely thrilled that my father has found the farmhouse of his dreams, and I really do hope that Mom comes to visit him every now and then.
Even if I don’t believe in that stuff.
“I can’t wait for you to move in.”
With a broad smile, my dad turns and wraps a single arm around me, looking out over the property in front of the house.
“Well, once I get the keys and everything is settled, you can move in too.” He doesn’t look at me, thankfully, because I’m sure I go white as a sheet. “I’ll have plenty of space for you now. And I know that you’ll be wanting to get back to New York, but that’s not until that mess with your coworker is settled.”
“Right, yeah.” My blood feels cold, and I furrow my brow as I look at my dad. “Umm, hey, I need to hit the bathroom before we leave. I’ll be right back.”
He grins. “Okay, hun. I’ll be in the car. Gonna call that realtor now.”
A smile breaks free. I really am happy for him, and I nod before jogging off inside to the bathroom near the kitchen.
I sit down. Hell, maybe I will actually pee. It’s not why I came in here, but I might as well try for a tactical wee.
Roaming my eyes over the quaint décor, I can see Brooks’s downstairs bathroom in my head. I can see the entire house.
Goddamn.
My chest aches, and I hear Dad’s words in my head again.
You can move in, too.
I love my father endlessly, but the thought of living in this house with him breaks my heart. And I know exactly why it does.
Brooks.
The idea of leaving him and Darby behind is enough to make me sick to my stomach. I love that house. I love being around them each day and helping out at the ranch.
I wanted to deny it for so long, but I do. I love the ranch.
It’s even more of a thing now that Brooks and I have slept together. I don’t want to leave him when we’re starting to try for…something.
Whatever it might be, it feels wrong to leave in the middle of it, even if I would technically still be working for him. I don’t want to be that far away from Brooks or Darby.
I want to be with them.
But it’s not like I can actually tell my dad any of that. Hell, I’m not sure if I can tell Brooks that. It’s not like I want to scare him away.
With another long sigh, I finish up in the bathroom, washing my hands and heading for the front to join my dad in the car. Once I hit the porch, I see the hide-a-key left on the railing and I use it to lock up, putting it back where I found it.
I’m about to head to the car when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I wonder if it’s Brooks asking how it went.
But it’s not. It’s an unknown number, and I know what that means. Kyle . I consider just deleting the message, but curiosity gets the best of me, and I swipe it open.
Tension clamps down on my spine, and I can hear my pulse in my ears as the words appear in front of me.
You will fix this, Clover. Clock’s a fucking ticking, and I’m losing my patience.
Nausea swirls, and then I hear the horn, jumping as my dad’s attempt to get my attention rocks me. I jog to the car and get inside the passenger seat.
“You okay, hun?”
No. “Yeah, of course. Just distracted. Let’s go.”
“Okay.” He grins over at me before turning the ignition. “I’ll drop you back at the ranch.”
“Sounds good, Dad.” I chew on my lip, my stare going distant out the dash. “Sounds good.”