CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
I eased my foot off the brake and pulled into a parking spot at the end of the row. Little flickers of shadow danced across my vision as my headache intensified. Not what I needed.
Grabbing my jacket and bag, I climbed out of my hatchback. Kye was already waiting at the end of the parking spot. He didn’t get any closer, as if he weren’t sure what sort of welcome he’d receive.
“Hi.” It was all I could say. So much swirled in me, between us, and all around, I didn’t trust myself to say anything more.
Kye was quiet as he studied me for a moment. No one could read me better than he could. He opened his arms. The urge to cry was strong, but I beat it back and walked right into that familiar embrace.
Kye’s arms engulfed me the second I reached his chest. I breathed him in, oakmoss and amber, with a hint of leather. His lips grazed the top of my head. “I’m sorry. Sorry I dragged you into all this. Sorry I fucked up where we’re at.”
“You didn’t do any of that,” I croaked. “I’d walk through fire for you, Kyler.”
His arms tightened around me the minute his full name left my lips. “Want to keep you from any pain, Sparrow. Never want to be the cause of it.”
I pulled back so I could look into his eyes. “Pain means we care. Means we love. Means we live. I wouldn’t trade any of that just to avoid some suffering.”
He stared down at me, searching for something only I could give him. “So damn brave.” His brows pulled together as he traced a tattooed finger over my brow. “Headache?”
“It’s been a day,” I said by way of answer.
“You eat lunch?”
It was after four now, but I couldn’t remember having anything but cookies after the bagel I’d scarfed down on my way to Les’s house. My gaze slid to the side.
“Fallon,” Kye growled.
The demand in that one word had my gaze returning. “I might’ve missed it.”
A scowl twisted Kye’s beautiful mouth. “Come on.” He began leading me toward his truck.
“I need to go in, tackle a mountain of paperwork, and—”
“And you can do it later. First, you need some food. And I want to show you something.”
Curiosity niggled. “What kind of something?”
One corner of Kye’s mouth kicked up in that mischievous half grin I loved. “You’ll only find out if you eat something first.”
“That’s blackmail,” I muttered.
Kye opened the passenger door of his truck. “Is it still blackmail if a double-chocolate Oreo shake is involved?”
I climbed into the cab. “No. That’s bribery, and I’m very amenable to that.”
He chuckled, and the sound skated over my skin in the best way. “Good to know.”
Kye shut me in and pulled out his phone, speaking words I couldn’t hear as he rounded the vehicle. He hovered outside the truck, finishing his call, then climbed behind the wheel. “First, The Pop. Then I’ll take you to what I want to show you.”
“Blackmailer,” I muttered.
“Briber,” he corrected as he navigated out of the parking lot and headed for downtown.
“Potato, potahto,” I grumbled.
Kye reached over and slid his hand under my hair to massage my neck. “Bad enough headache to make you grouchy.”
He wasn’t wrong, and as he hit an especially tender spot, I couldn’t help the little groan that slid from my lips.
“Gotta take better care of yourself, Fal,” he whispered.
“Things have just been busier than usual.”
“Because of me.”
I shook my head. “Because I want to make sure Hayden, Clem, and Gracie get the home they deserve.”
Kye pulled into a spot in front of The Pop and turned to me, his hand still lingering on my neck, his thumb digging into a pressure point there. “Every kid that comes across your desk is so damn lucky.”
I swallowed hard. “I saw them today.”
Kye’s thumb stilled as pain filled his amber eyes. “Bad?”
“The McKenzies are taking great care of them. They were eating their fill of double-chocolate cookies when I got there.”
“But?” Kye knew there was more. He always knew.
“Renee told them you knew you had sisters and wanted nothing to do with them.” I said the words as quickly as I could because he needed to know, but it was also the last thing I wanted to level him with.
Kye’s fingers spasmed on my neck before he jerked his hand away as if he was terrified he might hurt me. “I hate her,” he ground out. “I don’t want to hate anyone because I know it eats you up inside, but I hate her. With every fiber of my being.”
“I told them she lied. That you’d do anything for them.”
Kye shook his head, the action violent. “Won’t matter. Not until they see. Until they can feel the dedication. Words mean nothing. Not to kids who grew up like I did. Everyone lies, cheats, hurts. They gotta see that I won’t do that to them.”
I reached over and hooked his pinky with mine. “I know. And they will see.”
Kye stared down at our joined fingers. “Won’t stop until they do.”
“I know that, too.”
“Gotta get the food, Sparrow.”
I didn’t want to let him go, but I forced myself to—like I’d had to do time after time. I should’ve been good at it, watching Kye walk away. But it never got any easier.
My nerves ratcheted up with each moment he was gone. As if some part of me feared he’d never return. But as Kye exited the restaurant, a laugh bubbled out of me. It was the last sound I thought I’d make at the moment. But, of course, Kye made it happen.
His arms were laden with two jumbo-sized bags and two drink carriers. It was a miracle he didn’t trip on his way to the truck. I pushed open my door and reached for one of the carriers. “What did you do?”
Kye shrugged. “You needed ginger ale for nausea, Diet Coke for caffeine, water for hydration, and a double-chocolate Oreo shake for your reward.”
Something shifted uncomfortably in my chest as if my heart didn’t quite know what to do. “Kye.”
His amber gaze met mine. “Always going to take care of you.”
That familiar pressure built under my sternum, in Kye’s spot. But I couldn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure those words were something I should trust—for both our sakes.
He handed me the second carrier with his two drinks and then slid the bags in at my feet. “Wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for. Got you a cheeseburger, a grilled cheese, and a turkey club.”
“Your picture is next to over-the-top in the dictionary,” I muttered.
“You can take the leftovers home,” he argued.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t say anything in response, simply closed my door and rounded the truck to get behind the wheel.
We ate as he drove, slipping into the familiar routine of me unwrapping a burger for him and setting up his fries so he could reach them more easily.
We kept the conversation light as Kye steered the truck toward Colson Ranch.
We talked about Lolli’s diamond art for Cope and the sonogram photo Arden had sent via our group chat as I nibbled on the grilled cheese sandwich and drank copious amounts of my liquid options.
Kye cast a quick glance at my lap. “You haven’t eaten enough.”
“I’m working on it. Slow and steady. The last thing you want is me upchucking in your precious baby.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Kye said wryly.
My face twisted. “Do not remind me.”
Kye had picked me up after a particularly potent girls’ night, and I had vomited all over the front seat of his truck. He hadn’t yelled or made me feel bad. He’d simply taken me home, cleaned me up, and watched over me all night to make sure I didn’t get sick again.
Kye patted the dash. “She recovered. After back-to-back detail jobs.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I still can’t handle the smell of Jack Daniel’s.”
Kye laughed as he turned onto a gravel road across from Colson Ranch. “I will keep that in mind around you.”
“Where are we going?” I asked as I sat up straighter, trying to see.
“Gotta eat more of your sandwich if you wanna find out.”
I took a big bite, chewed, and then swallowed. “Okay, tell me.”
“I wanted to show you the house I built.”
I looked over at Kye, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “And Shep didn’t build it?”
Kye had said he hadn’t, but the possibility still stung. That he might have shared something with one of our siblings and not me. But he quickly shook his head. “No. I didn’t want … I needed this to be mine. I wasn’t ready to share it.”
My brow furrowed as I studied him, trying to figure out why building a home would be such a secret.
We bumped down the gravel road for a mile or so before Kye turned onto a drive.
A massive gate stretched across it, but everything about it was Kye.
The design was artful, a blended style like tattoos on metal—a mountainscape with sparrows flying around the top and a single word carved into the middle: Haven.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“I’m glad you like it.” Kye rolled down his window and punched a code into an intercom. A second later, the gates swung open to a paved drive lined with an array of evergreens.
The trees made it hard to see anything ahead, and I found myself holding my breath as we made our way deeper onto the property. “How many acres?”
“A little over a hundred.”
I swallowed, my throat sticking on the motion. “Could get lost on that.” I also knew it would’ve cost a pretty penny, especially with more people moving to Central Oregon, trying to soak up all the beauty it had to offer.
“Sometimes getting lost is exactly what you need.”
Kye’s words hit, and my gaze moved from the path ahead to him, trying to read what it was he was looking for in getting lost. I was so distracted by trying to find my answers that I didn’t notice the house had come into view. Not until Kye stopped the truck.
I turned then, and what I saw nearly knocked me sideways.
The house was a blend of Victorian and Craftsman, painted a deep teal blue with dark wooden accents.
It felt like part castle and part farmhouse, coming together to create something that was out-of-this-world perfect.
Something I’d doodled countless times on paper, but also somehow more.
“Kye,” I rasped. “That’s my house.”