Chapter 32
Devyn
F irst thing’s first,” I tell Lemon and Shana, strolling through Abel’s store with a grin plastered on my face, the familiar scents of pine and feed, portals to my youth.
“I need to find me an Abel and get a big ol’ hug.”
Before I can’t.
My heart swoops to my stomach for Clara, another integral role model during my formative stages, someone who looked out for not just me, but all the kids in Pine Forest. I run my fingers over the hand-painted sign by the wall of carts.
Live, Laugh, And Pray There’s Not Shit on Your Boots When You Walk Up in My Store!
Everything’s the same here.
“I have ten years of hugs to make up for,” I whisper, almost to myself, but Shana hears. She grabs my hand and squeezes.
“I’m sorry you didn’t know about Clara sooner.”
“How do you always know what I’m thinking? It’s honestly spooky, Shay.” I shake my head.
She laughs, tugging me down the aisles, but her tone evens when she turns to me, and we stop mid-aisle. “My dad doesn’t have long, you know.” She twists the tie of her hoodie in her free hand, a nervous habit a lot like my hair tie. But she’s done this little thing for as long as I remember.
“I’m sorry. About your dad,” I tell her, veering us to chat more privately by the boots and apparel. “I know what it feels like to lose your whole world, Shay. And I’m sorry I haven’t been here while you’ve been dealing with losing yours. I have not been the best friend I should be.”
“Devyn, stop.”
But I won’t. I’m not going to let her give me an easy out on this one. She always will because Shana is just that brand of beauty. But it’s not fair, because I’m not off the hook…not in my own heart, at least.
“No.” I give her a pointed stare. “I’ve been a selfish bitch these last few years. I hated my past. My scars. Shay, I hated myself . I tried to be a check in all the boxes on everyone else’s lists for so long that I became a person so unrecognizable to myself that I just…I hated her. And she wasn’t in a place to be someone for anyone then.”
“I know, Devyn,” Shana says softly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” She smiles, nudging me with her elbow. “You never let anyone get a word in, ya know?” We laugh, resuming our walking again when Shana turns to me, a curious glint in her eyes.
“I won’t be losing my whole world,” she says, “when he dies.”
She says the last word with such finality and confirmation that it haunts me. The resignation in her tone. That he’s dying, matter of fact. Just like that.
And I know she has to do that because he is dying, but it’s so much to handle. The way she’s been doing it with such grace since is astounding.
To have such confidence in the future, even when the present seems clouded.
“I used to be scared,” she says, plucking a Frisbee from an end-cap. “Not knowing what would come next can be crippling, mentally, so to speak.” She looks up, and I nod. It can be. “When he dies, I will truly be alone out here in the world. Not an orphan, right? Because those are kids. Just…something like it. But this last year, the town has poured their love around me. Hunter, Lemon, Jeremy…you…among others.”
She presses her lips together in a smile that reaches all the way to her eyes and pulls me into a hug. She squeezes so tight we both might burst. It’s exactly how it should be.
“I’ve missed you, bestie. You are all my world. My life is just beginning. And yeah, I might be alone once he’s gone. But I’m alone with the best group of friends I could ever ask for.”
She pulls away, still grinning. “That’s what I’ve been trying to show you. Life might get crazy around here, but the people haven’t changed since you left. And when it comes down to it, a more loyal group of people doesn’t exist, Dev.” She brushes her hair behind her ear and links arms with me. “We all want you to stay. Even after the fair, I mean.”
I’m gut punched, and simultaneously elated, loved, accepted . But more than anything, I feel a deep sense of dread. Not dread for staying, not at all. Dread over the simple idea of leaving. Up until that moment with Ellie in the coop, I hadn’t even thought of it.
It’s been a week since that day. A week of bonding with a man and his daughter, knowing what it is she wants from me. Who and what she wishes I were to her. To her papa. A family who welcomes me in and fills the empty spaces of my heart, all the cracks and crevices, until I’m whole again. And it’s not just the sit-down dinners celebrating a proud little girl’s new racing records, or the perfectly sinful evenings under the skylight when my body isn’t my own.
It isn’t even the familiarity of the roads or the thrill of the pageant and starting something new.
It’s the whole shebang.
It’s home.
“Thanks, Shay,” I say, stifling my emotions before they do something crazy again like show . I exhale quickly and whip my head around, scanning the warehouse.
“Let’s find the old man,” Shana says, bumping hips. I’m glad she understands my cues and knows I’ve had enough feelings for one moment. She also knows how important it is for me to see Abel, whether I leave or stay.
“Rumor has it he can tell you the future, you know?” I grin as Shana giggles, hooking her pinky in mine. She and I started that rumor in sixth grade. Doesn’t stop me from believing it to this very day.
The whole town has a sweet spot for Old Abe, and I am no exception.
“He’ll be happy to see you. He’s rather nostalgic these days.”
“These days? He’s always been like that.”
Lemon snorts behind us, and I feel bad because I honestly forgot she was there. I break away from Shana and open the space between us. Lemon notices and chews her lips briefly before twisting them into a smile and launching forward, linking her arms into Shana’s and mine.
“You’ll see. By the way,” Lemon says, “I know it was you two who started that rumor. When you wanted me to believe the puppy shampoo would make my hair grow longer.” I burst out laughing, and Shana whips her focus to me, concerned, but Lemon just clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes.
“Come on, Shay, it’s totally fine. I don’t hate you guys. Anymore.”
You’d think her calling my best friend by the nickname I created for her would tick me off coming from Lemon, but it doesn’t.
We pass through the aisles, and it’s as if nothing’s changed, yet everything has all at once. Just like with Cowboy’s Paradise, there’s no denying this is Abel’s feed store, but it’s brighter, newer, even sturdier. The drop tile ceiling is freshly re-installed instead of flaking from above and making that tapping noise every time it slings against the vent when the heat kicks on. The floors are painted red and blue to match the lettering on the sign out front. Hell, he’s even got security cameras in the corners.
Things here have been taken care of and renovated, like every other local staple this little town has. A free smile slips across my face with the knowledge that this is likely because of Hunter.
My Hunter.
“Is that little Devy Lynn I see in my crystal ball?”
Abel’s deep cadence crackles through the air and peppers me with joy and familiarity. It’s as if his laughter was designed for that purpose alone, and it’s proven so when my eyes meet his and I see the curve of his rosy, Santa Claus cheeks holding up wire rimmed glasses that must be the same damn pair he wore all those years ago, the red paint on the rims worn and faded.
He chuckles, elbowing the gumball machine for old time’s sake and lifting the flap to pull out a single sphere.
“You always did like pink best, if my old memory serves me right. The littlest Campbell with the biggest personality.” He puts the gumball in my hand and closes his fingers around mine.
“Welcome home, Your Highness.” He drops my hand and bows to me with a wry smile.
“Oh, knock it off, Abe, you old goose. You don’t need to go bowing for me.” I swat at his arm, but as gently as possible. It doesn’t escape my notice that he’s got a funky gait about him when he walks or stands or, really, anything he’s doing. He doesn’t use a cane, but as I peer over to his desk area, a smile pulls at the corners of my lips.
“You still have that damn stool, Abel? You don’t want a new one?”
He huffs and waves his hand. “I’ll have you know that stool has done me plenty well. No use recreatin’ the wheel.”
“It’s leaning on one of the legs,” I point out, which only seems to earn me a scowl.
“I heard a rumor, you know. I tend to hear these things, being the center of everyone’s world and all,” he teases with a wide grin.
“Oh?”
But he doesn’t elaborate. He just grins like a proud grandparent, laughing at me when I huff in protest.
“Oh, come now, Your Highness. You know I don’t spread gossip. I only collect it.”
I roll my eyes at the old man and look over the tops of the shelves for Lemon and Shana, but they’re off looking for stuff on the list Hunter gave us.
Rope, zip-ties, cables, bolts, and duct tape…
Honestly, the list sounds like something he might need to tie up a victim, not build a stage. The thought sends an unnecessary thrill straight between my thighs, and I snap the hair tie on my wrist to bring myself back down from Hunter La La Land or whatever the hell this place is called where pure unadulterated fantasy and lust live rent free in my mind.
“You’re blushing.” Abel chuckles, turning and hobbling back to his stool. I follow him because I feel the very instantaneous need to correct him.
“I am not blushing.”
“You are.”
“No, I’m not.”
He whips back toward me, impressively fast for his age, and cocks an exasperated look my way, a rumpled loose-leaf paper held tightly between his left fingers that he clings to while he speaks.
“You and Mr. Isaac are insufferable. You have long since been destined for love, and yet you fight it so relentlessly. It’s a miracle you’ve even been given the chance to choose again.”
“Choose again?” I furrow my brow, leaning over the counter and picking at the glue on the edge of his laminated No Returns sign.
“Well, of course. Why do you think you’re here, young lady? Everyone has a choice. Every choice has a purpose. You can choose love, or you can choose whatever else exists out there.” He turns away suddenly, shoving his crumpled papers back into the desk drawer before glancing my way, brows pinched with sadness etched over his features. “But this is important. Be prepared to live with the consequences of your choice. Should you choose the alternative, you may not be led down this path again.”
“What’s the alternative?”
I honestly don’t know.
If Hunter is the first choice, is Not Hunter the other?
Not Hunter means Not Ellie…Not Lemon and Not Shana.
Not Home.
Still.
What if I’m Not Sure.
“Earth to Devyn!” Lemon snaps her fingers in front of my face and laces her arm through mine. “We got the rest of the items on the list. We just need to load the lumber. Robbie checked us out already on lane two. Here’s the receipt incase Hunter needs it for write-offs.”
“Write-offs. Right,” I mumble, looking around for Abel, who seems to have mysteriously vanished into thin air, his stool leaning right where he just was.
Wasn’t he?
“Where did Abel go?”
“Dunno.” She shrugs. “Hobbled off that way. Something about his papers. You know Abe.”
“Right.”
Because I’m a blubbering idiot who daydreams in random places and doesn’t even notice people moving about in front of her.
“I think I’m confused.”
Lemon eyes me with concern and pulls me down the plumbing aisle where we lean against the model toilet bowls.
It works, I guess.
“What are you confused about, hon? Is it Hunter? The pageant?”
“It’s everything,” I admit. “I didn’t know about Ellie.”
Lemon frowns. “I know…we should have told you sooner, but we didn’t think you’d understand until you met her. And it wasn’t our story to tell. Hunter’s been a saint to this town for years. He raised his brother’s kid as his own and provided a place for all the other kids to thrive. He created scholarships, business loans for mom-and-pop shops, even a community garden. Pardon me for saying it like it is, babe, but your man has grown the hell up since you were last here, and it’s okay if that freaks you out a bit. It’s all right if you take your time to get to know the new man he’s become. And it’s normal if you’re feeling cold feet about being a mother.”
“Mother? I didn’t say anything about me being her mother.”
My eyes widen. “Did I?”
Lemon shoots me a knowing glare. One I imagine older sisters use on their younger siblings when moms aren’t around to do so properly. I wouldn’t know. I had an older brother with a hot best friend who snuck in my bedroom window instead.
Shit. Why does my mind always come back to that like a damn default screen?
“You’re thinking about him again,” Lem points out, and I concede, sighing heavily and leaning onto her shoulder. Sitting here like this, it feels like Lemon and I truly are friends. Then the Lemon I recognize is back, teasing.
“Oh, poor Devyn. Wins Miss American Rodeo, garners thousands of followers online for sponsorships and news station appearances, basically gets insta-famous and comes back home to find an older, sexier, financially stabler version of her high school sweetheart with whom she falls wildly in love and lives happily ever after…oh, poor her.”
Suddenly, I’m laughing out loud until my abs are sore. Lemon laughs, too. Wildly, loudly, and ceaselessly, bringing Shana back to our corner of the store, staring like we’ve grown two more heads.
“What the heck happened to you two?” She rolls her eyes, but her grin says it all. She’s thrilled to see her two best friends becoming, dare I say it, best friends.
“Y’all are right,” I tell them when our laughter finally settles into a silent, shared smile. “I’m in love, head over heels, with Hunter Isaac and his daughter.”
And I want to be her mother.
I don’t speak those last words out loud, though. Not yet. Something inside me still screams it’s too much, too good to be true. But I will say one thing.
“I’m staying.”
Shana and Lemon tackle me to the floor in a hug, and we laugh all over again, until our faces are numb.
R iding home, we blast Shania Twain, hollering the lyrics to “Man, I Feel Like a Woman .” I marvel at the rows and rows of sunflowers, fields of wheat, rolling hills and haybales for miles to come. The smell of manure is thick in the cool, fall air, and the chill on my face as I let the wind whip away at me through the open windows of the truck is telling of an approaching winter. Crisp. Exciting.
Magical.
“I’ve been thinking about something. Ellie told me Katie keeps trying to place her with other families because Hunter isn’t married. But right now, everyone already thinks we are. What difference would it make if we just, I don’t know, made it legal for the sake of him winning custody. It’s not like we couldn’t change it later once he’s fully adopted her, and maybe we wouldn’t even want to…I mean the way things are now, I’m not sure I wouldn’t—”
Lemon stops me. “Katie does not want Ellie with other families, Devyn. She has purposely been working with Hunter to sabotage any potential foster matches while he fights for custody, just so you know. She’s on your side.”
I couldn’t have imagined that would sting so much coming from Lemon. I mean, I understand she’s Katie’s cousin, but she knows so much more about this than I do. So much more about a girl who feels like my responsibility. Not hers. And that’s crazy, right?
That she feels like my responsibility?
But I don’t care. That is how it feels.
“I was just feeling like Hunter and I had this whole new level of trust, but he hasn’t told me anything about her custody placement other than it’s been up and down. Ellie’s revealed more to me than Hunter has, and I get the feeling he isn’t telling me the stuff that truly has him in knots.”
Shana clears her throat, gripping the wheel with white knuckles and elbowing Lemon. Lemon, who is awkwardly wedged between Shana and me right now, stiffens suspiciously, but I go on.
“If we were for real married, as Ellie put it,” I smile at the memory, “Hunter would have a better chance of full custody, don’t you think?”
“Oh, boy, we have to tell her,” Shana suddenly blurts. “I can’t keep it secret anymore.”
“Shut up!” Lemon hisses. “It’s not your secret to tell, it’s—”
“Tell me what?” I snap at them both.
But before I can get my answers, Shana slams on the brakes and the truck comes screeching to a halt. She pulls to the shoulder and flicks on her brights, illuminating the field so we can see—
“Ellie?”