Chapter 32 Elena
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
elena
Ivy insists I take another day to rest, but I feel fine today. Almost like yesterday never happened, except, it did. And there’s a human being growing inside me to prove it.
A little Logan baby I have no clue how I’m going to take care of.
The good news is, judging from the forty-two text messages, this entire family is made up of caretakers.
Even Sutton and Willow, who I barely know, have checked in to see how I’m feeling.
And that’s just because everyone thinks I have the stomach flu.
I can’t even imagine the hyperdrive level of concern they’ll be in when they find out the truth.
The truth.
I’ve tried to wrap my mind around it all day.
By five o’clock, I’m going stir crazy. I’ve straightened the cabin, memorized all my lines and marks for the next two dozen scenes, and even spoken with my dad and let him know how sorry I am to have missed his birthday.
I promise I’m going to visit soon, and I am, because this isn’t the kind of news you tell your family over the phone if you can help it.
But I’m bouncing off the walls, so I text Isaac, who made sure we had each other’s phone numbers programmed in our phones last night under Smokin’ Hot Baby Mama and Daddy Isaac because he is a child himself, and let him know I’m coming over early before I die of boredom.
He offers to come pick me up, like the five-minute walk to his place is suddenly too much for me. I send an eye roll emoji and tell him to stay put or I’m canceling.
The fresh air on the way helps a little.
Isaac’s place is tucked down a tree-lined drive that I didn’t even realize belonged to anyone the first few weeks I was here. One of those hidden little pockets of property that practically dares you to come find it.
The first time I came over, it was dark and I couldn’t appreciate the ambiance.
Walking to it is peaceful.
When I round the bend, it appears—clean-lined and modern, with dark wood siding and floor-to-ceiling windows that catch the light like they’re showing off.
It’s not as much like the lodge-style main house or the rustic cabin vibe of Wyatt and Ivy’s as I would’ve expected. Isaac’s house is less sprawling ranch house, more architectural digest meets cowboy solitude. And somehow, it suits him.
On the porch, there are several wooden chairs with plush cushions and a vase with flowers on a side table.
“Didn’t peg you for a Pinterest cowboy,” I murmur as I step onto the porch.
“Planning to peg me already?” He steps out of the door like he was waiting for me. Fitted olive green tee, worn jeans, a slow grin that makes me forget how to breathe for a second. “Should’ve figured you’d be into that sort of thing. Will I have to call you master? Or is it madame?”
I start to roll my eyes, but the image takes hold and my body warms to the idea.
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I think it over. “Only if you want me to call you a good boy.”
Our eyes meet and the teasing moment turns to an inferno between us.
“Fuck,” he bites out. “That’s pretty damn hot. I’m game if you are.”
Before I can respond, two flashes of fur blur toward me.
“Speaking of good boys,” Isaac says, shaking his head at the dogs making a beeline for me. “These two just got back from a week-long cattle drive.”
I glance down in time to see the ankle biters in question descending upon me.
Isaac moves his hand in a command, and they stop.
A blue heeler and what looks like an unknown breed mixed with a blue heeler turn toward him obediently.
“This is Rowdy and Blue he says, clapping a hand against his thigh once. “They’re semi-retired cattle dogs and mostly assholes, but—”
Before he can finish, the bigger one—Rowdy, I assume—returns to me. Sniffs once. Then presses the side of his face against the backs of my legs like he’s staking a claim. Or he’s trying to herd me toward Isaac.
“Uh.”
Isaac stops dead in his tracks. “Well, that’s new.”
“What?”
“He’s not usually friendly with anyone but me. They’ve both been around more cattle than humans most of their lives so they’re not always great with people, unless they’re herding you somewhere.”
The one he called Blue circles once, then flops at my feet with a huff.
“Maybe they recognize an alpha when they see one,” I say.
“Clearly.” He squints at me like I’ve just solved a puzzle he didn’t even realize he’d been working on. “I’d make a joke about you smelling like beef jerky or something,” he says, “but I’m too surprised to come up with a punchline.”
“Surprises seem to be our thing lately.” I reach down to scratch each dog behind the ears. “Hi, boys. Don’t worry. I don’t like most people either.”
When I glance up again, Isaac’s watching me intently.
And for some reason, that rattles me more than the dogs do.
“Come on in,” he says, jerking his chin toward the house. “Food is almost ready. I ordered chicken and pasta from The Stillery. All sauces on the side, no bacon. Hopefully nothing too heavy. But if you hate it, I can go get something else.”
He would too. Run right out and try to make me happy. I don’t know if I want to kiss him or cry.
“I’m sure it’s fine. Smells good.”
“We could eat on the porch. Plenty of fresh air.”
I wrinkle my nose. “And closer to the flowerbed if I yack my food up again.”
“That too.” He lets out a soft chuckle then leads me through the kitchen—masculine but not messy, the kind of space that tells you the person who lives here actually lives here—and out through the back doors.
And that’s when I see it.
A wide, covered back porch with big, cushioned chairs, hanging plants, flowers lining the water, and a view of the river that makes my breath catch.
“Oh wow. It’s like a painting out here.”
“Sit,” he says gently, tugging me toward one of the chairs. “I’ll grab you something to drink. Water? Tea? Can you have wine or soda? I don’t even know. I’m sorry.”
“Water is fine.”
I watch him disappear into the house, then glance down at Blue and Rowdy, who’ve flanked me, resting at my feet like I’m their new queen.
“Okay, boys,” I whisper. “If I can’t stomach this food, I’m sneaking it to you under the table.”
The wind moves through the trees. Sunlight glitters off the surface of the water just beyond the edge of the yard.
And for the first time, I let myself wonder if maybe being knocked up by Isaac Logan might not be so bad.
When the food is long gone, even the cookies he snagged from Laurel for dessert, the porch lights shining against the day’s descent into twilight, casting a glow around Isaac as he leans back in the chair across from me.
Of course he’s lit up even in darkness. He’s sunshine in human form.
I’ve never seen anyone so full of light. I find it both intriguing and terrifying.
I don’t know if it was the poverty, my dad’s never-ending health struggles, the despair of the struggling people in my community or just something inside me—but I’ve always felt like darkness filled every crevice in my soul, always looming and threatening to poison everyone around me.
“So, about our new development,” he says quietly, leaning forward now to clasp a hand on my ankle, anchoring me to him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. And for the record, I don’t want or need anything from you.” The words come out harsher than I mean for them to.
His thumb moves over the bone just below my ankle. “Little late for that, sweetheart.”
I look away. It’s not shame I’m feeling exactly. But it’s something close. That gnawing thing in my chest that reminds me I’ve spent years convincing myself I could do it all on my own but suddenly I’m not so sure.
If I’m only responsible for myself, I can do it alone. I can live on freeze-dried noodles and next to nothing. I’ve done it. But now that I’m carrying the life of someone else, everything is different. My struggle will be his or her struggle.
I feel like this is a failure somehow. All through high school, I worked so hard, but no scholarships came my way. When I got into acting school, I worked three jobs to pay for it. Modeling, waitressing, cleaning houses.
Now here I am, risking losing everything I’ve worked for because one hot encounter with a cowboy ended with me pregnant.
The unwed part is going to kill my parents. I’ve practiced telling them a hundred times in my head.
It never goes well.
“I just meant I didn’t get pregnant on purpose to trap you or anything. I’ve built a life. A career. All on my own. I can handle this on my own, too.”
Maybe if I say it enough times it will be true.
As long as they don’t fire me from this role, I’ll be able to care for myself and a child. Maybe it won’t be a fancy life, but it will be a secure one.
“I know you can,” he says easily. “Doesn’t mean you should have to.”
“After filming on this series wraps, I don’t have anything else lined up for a while. But that could change. I’ll have to go wherever the work is. That’s part of my job. I travel. A lot.”
He nods. “So do rodeo cowboys, military personnel, and musicians. People figure it out. Raise children together in all types of situations.”
My mind catches on the together part.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Right, well, I don’t know how the together part factors in for us, but I’m not going to give this baby up for adoption or anything else. And I’d never deny you the right to be in his or her life if you want that.”
“I want that,” he offers quickly. “I very much want that.”
Relief loosens the tension in my chest. I wasn’t sure if he would want that or how I’d feel about it if he did or didn’t. But knowing he does makes it easier to breathe.
He shifts in his seat, lifts my foot gently into his lap, and starts rubbing slow, perfect circles into the arch with his thumb.
I hate how good it feels. But not enough to stop him.