11. Ava
CHAPTER 11
Ava
BLAST FROM THE PAST
The next day, Junie and I walk hand in hand to the barn raising. Despite being over three and a half, she still takes an afternoon nap sometimes. Today she didn’t wake up until almost two thirty, so we’re running late.
I had hoped to lie down myself for a bit. But between catching up on laundry and paying bills, I burned through my two hours of “free time” without so much as a snack break.
I’m tired . Then again, when am I not?
“What’s that sound?” Junie jumps up in an attempt to get a better look at the party happening just down the hill.
“That’s the band. They’re playing music at the party. It’s fun, right? Think you’ll want to dance with me?”
Junie smiles, nodding. “I like to dance.”
“I do too.”
Although I’m feeling weirdly … nervous, I guess, about this whole thing. Which is stupid, because it’s just a casual get-together of some locals. There will be food, beer, and yeah, maybe a little work involved. But it’ll be a great opportunity to meet some neighbors. I haven’t really done that yet, seeing as I threw myself into getting the Wallaces’ training program off the ground as soon as we arrived.
I really would love for Junie to make a friend or two. If we’re not feeling it, we can just leave.
I hate the idea that I’m nervous because Sally’s introducing me to someone, even if she did pitch him as nothing more than a fellow single parent. Being nervous means I care, and I don’t want to care about a guy or what he thinks of me. I’m happy being alone.
I’m a better person because I’m alone. I’m not bitter or resentful or angry anymore.
I know this in my bones. And yet my stomach won’t stop flipping the closer we get.
The music grows louder as we pass a stand of juniper trees. We crest a small hill, and then the party comes into view in the shallow valley below.
I draw up short in the stubby grass.
“What is it, Mommy?”
Swallowing, I adjust the hat on my head. Figured it was only proper to wear a Stetson to a barn raising. “Nothing. There’s … wow, a lot of people here.”
Like, a lot of people. They swarm the damaged barn and the picnic tables that our crew set out around it. A large knot of people hangs by a pair of kegs in rubber buckets opposite the band, while others mill around the tables, picking at the enormous spread of food set out.
I helped organize the event, so I shouldn’t be surprised. But when everyone we invited said they’d be coming, I assumed they were just being polite. Surely we’d have no-shows. Probably a lot of them, considering we were asking people to rebuild a freaking barn for free.
“The cake!” Junie shouts, tugging on my hand. “Mommy, I see the cake! It’s chocolate! My favorite! Let’s go, Mommy, please!”
I smile, despite the roiling nerves in my stomach. Mrs. Wallace is a big baker, and she loves making sweet treats for my little sugar monster. She never said as much, but I know she made that Texas sheet cake because it really is June’s favorite.
Reason number eight hundred ninety-nine why I love our little life here.
I spot Mrs. Wallace by the nearest table. She’s got a plate in one hand and a fork in another, which she’s waving animatedly as she chats with Vince, the ranch’s resident veterinarian. He and Sally work closely together.
An older couple dances in front of the stage, where the band is playing a Taylor Swift cover. The familiar song eases my nerves ever so slightly.
I let Junie lead me down the hill. I joke that I’m an extroverted introvert; I love to socialize with the right people, but I always need time alone afterward to recharge my battery. My daughter, however, is—like her dad—the most natural extrovert on planet Earth, even as a three-year-old.
I hear the roar of a chain saw, followed by the thunk of hammers. Glimpsing inside the barn, I see there’s a whole mess of people there already at work. The fire was started by some bad electrical wire, and while the exterior of the barn escaped mostly unscathed, the interior is a disaster.
But judging by how many people showed up to work, it’ll be fixed in no time.
There’s a flutter inside my chest. Hartsville is a special place. The sense of community here—how people genuinely give a shit about each other—is kind of the best thing ever.
Junie makes a beeline for Mrs. Wallace and her chocolate cake.
“Mrs. Wallace!” My daughter slams into the older woman’s legs and wraps her in a hug. “Mrs. Wallace, there’s cake! Can I have some?”
I laugh. “How do we ask? And didn’t I say you needed to have some real food first?”
“Well hey there, little lady,” Mrs. Wallace says with a laugh. “It’s so good to see you. Of course you can have some cake! But only after you eat”—she glances at the food—“some of Mrs. Nielson’s chicken. Do you think you can do that?”
“But I don’t like chicken.”
My turn to laugh. “Sorry, Mrs. W. She’s trying to play you. Junie loves chicken. Hey, Vince.”
“Hey there, Ava. And hey, Miss June. Can I get another high five for how well you did this morning? You were such a big help.” He holds up a hand.
Junie jumps up to slap it. Not gonna lie, this kind of thing makes me feel all warm and mushy inside. This morning, I took Junie out for a trail ride so we could visit the Wallaces’ herd of cows. We ran into Vince when we were done, and he showed Junie how to untack our horse and brush him down. I don’t know who enjoyed the lesson more—her or Vince. His boys are teenagers now, and I can tell he misses having little kids around.
“All right, Junie.” I put my hands on her shoulders and start steering her toward the food. “Let’s eat our chicken, and then you can have some cake.”
We’re just about to grab some plates when I see Sally approaching, hand in hand with Wyatt. I’m always struck by how much he reminds me of Sawyer—something about the shade of his eyes and his confident, steady stride.
Then again, everything seems to remind me of Sawyer, so I’ve never read too much into it.
Seeing me, Sally smiles and waves. My stomach flips, nerves returning with a vengeance.
Stop it. You’re going to be fine.
I wave back and force brightness into my voice. “Hey, y’all! Thank you so much for coming. We’re blown away by the turnout!”
Wyatt grins. I don’t miss the way he keeps Sally close, their arms brushing as they absently swing their joined hands.
“Welcome to Hartsville, where everyone’s nosy as hell but always willing to lend a hand.” He nods at the kegs. “The fact that there’s free beer here doesn’t hurt.”
I smile. “Least we could do.”
“So, Ava,” Sally says, glancing at her fiancé, “Wyatt and I would like you to meet someone.”
Looking at Junie, I pretend to be surprised. “Oh? This sounds fun.”
Junie, ever the optimist, screams with delight. Together we follow Sally and Wyatt into the barn. The singed smell of smoke burns my nostrils, but it’s alleviated somewhat by the clean, fresh scent of new lumber. Several men and women are hard at work repairing some framing on the far wall. A little girl busies herself with a pink plastic hammer in the opposite corner, a safe distance from the construction.
My gaze immediately catches on a tall, broad-shouldered guy smack dab in the middle of the wall. He’s in jeans and a flannel shirt he fills out to perfection, biceps bulging as he lifts a two-by-four—at least I think that’s what you call those long, thin wooden boards? A tool belt is slung around his hips.
Even from behind, you can tell he’s handsome. Especially from behind. The way his butt fills out those broken-in Levi’s?—
Wait a second.
Wait. A. Second.
Those jeans—that thick, dark hair—oh, God, now he’s turning, offering me a glimpse of his side. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, revealing a big, bold line of script tattooed on his thickly muscled forearm. Ella .
There’s a faint buzzing in my ears that’s overtaken by the panicked throb of my pulse. My head suddenly feels like it’s being squeezed inside a vise, even as my heart leaps in elation.
Can’t be. No way. No fucking way ?—
“Sawyer!” Wyatt calls.
Oh my God it’s him.
And that’s his daughter playing with the plastic hammer. Ella isn’t his mom. She’s Sawyer’s daughter.
I’d laugh if I didn’t feel like I was about to vomit. Of course he’s a dad.
The offer to get me wipes, how he was always thinking ahead, anticipating needs. How he made sure I never went hungry or thirsty.
I’ve encountered very few married men who operate that way. But a single dad? Totally makes sense.
The little girl looks our way and immediately lights up, making a mad dash across the barn to hug Wyatt and Sally. “Uncle Wy! It’s Uncle Wy and Auntie Sally!”
June tugs on my hand. “Mommy, can I play with her?” she whispers.
The man—Sawyer—turns to fully face his brother. The dimples in his cheeks pop when he smiles, and I feel a vaguely familiar tingle in my knees.
“Hey, Wyatt,” he says. “Sally, it’s always a pleasure seeing yo …”
The word dies in his mouth when our gazes lock. Even in the dim light of the barn, the blue in his eyes is so piercing that I feel it like a knife through the chest.
“Hey!” It’s the only word I can seem to formulate.
A pink flush works its way up Sawyer’s thick neck. I notice his scruff is scruffier. His mustache isn’t as neatly trimmed as it was back in Austin. There are purple rings around his eyes.
He looks as overwhelmed and bone-tired as I feel.
“It’s … good to see you,” he says with a laugh, raising an arm to tug a hand through his hair. “Been a minute.”
How the hell have you been?
Do you ever think about me?
I can’t breathe, but somehow I manage to laugh too. “Yeah. Wow. What are the chances?”
Sally’s brows snap together. “Wait, do y’all know each other?”
Sawyer’s hand moves to the back of his head. He gives his hair a hard ruffle. “Funny enough, we do.”