Chapter 25 #2
Those mood-ring eyes are storming, swirling, seeking something in mine. Whatever it is, it’s hers. I’ll give her any damn thing she wants unless it’s to leave again. I can’t give her that. I refuse to.
“I’m Carrie, Willow’s mom. I can see what you like about him,” Carrie says. I can hear a smile in her voice, so hopefully, I haven’t scared her too much by bursting into her house and grabbing her daughter.
Not that I give a fuck as long as Willow doesn’t mind.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply, still not looking away from Willow. “You left me. You left Hank. You left Great Falls.”
She blinks behind her lenses, and I’m acutely aware of her palms resting on my chest. I take a breath, holding it so my chest presses into her touch.
I want more of it, need it desperately because it’s the only thing keeping my feet grounded right here.
If she wasn’t touching me, I’d have to gather her in my arms and cover her with my body.
But the slightest touch from her, one she chooses to give me, is a powerful drug I want more of.
“Well, yeah, I had to come home to get my stuff.” Her brows dance up and then down in confusion. “I’m going back.”
She makes it sound like that’s obvious, but it’s not to me.
“I’m moving there so I can help Unc more. He wants to slow down, go fishing with Doc and Richard more often, and kinda slow-step toward eventual retirement. I want to help and spend time with him.”
“You’re going back?” Out of everything she said, that’s what sticks.
And I need to be crystal-fucking-clear that’s the case so I don’t have to keep her locked up in my room on the farm like one of those true crime late-night shows she watches.
Because that thought has already occurred to me too.
I never claimed to be right in the head, just that I love her.
“Yes?” she answers. “Is that okay?”
“Fuck yeah, it is,” I huff out, happiness letting my heart start to beat again. She’s coming back to Great Falls. “I’m going back too, and you’re coming with me.” She just said that, but I need her to hear that there’s no other option, no other way.
“I don’t want to hold you back. I know what this deal means to you. Do what you need to. I’ll be in Great Falls when your big tour bus rolls through town.”
She’s trying to joke, and I think she actually believes I could do that—go on the road and come through town every once in a while for a visit.
That’s not remotely possible. I want her by my side every day, in my arms every night.
I want to hear what goes through her mind, see what photos she takes, and taste her kiss every chance I get.
That won’t happen if we’re apart, not even for a single day.
“I don’t want it without you. I love you, Willow.
Every day, every way, always. Fuck knows, I’m a complete mess without you, but I want to see every sunrise and sunset with you, give you bubble baths and doughnuts, and play music while you take pictures until your finger is numb.
” Words are falling off my tongue, pouring out of my heart, coming easily for once.
Thank God, because this is when they matter most. I hope they’re enough to make her see what we could have, what I’ll give her, if she’ll only give me another chance at owning her heart.
“The deal? Your music?” she argues, still not getting it.
“That was my dream, but I know what’s truly important.
You. You’re everything, and without you, nothing else fucking matters.
” I can’t stand it. I pull her into me, hugging her tightly.
I wish I could climb inside her to make her feel what I feel.
Then she’d never doubt that all I want is her.
She’s all I dream of now. Her cheek pressed to my chest, I run my fingers through her short hair, brushing it behind her ear the way she does.
I lay a kiss to the top of her head, whispering, “I can’t believe I let you do that.
I’m such a fucking idiot for believing for one second that you would leave me because I know you feel this too.
You’ve felt it from the beginning, just like me.
I’m sorry I didn’t chase you down. I just—”
My words falter, and all I can do is squeeze her, a tidal wave of relief at having her in my arms again washing through me. Her arms go around my waist, hugging me back, and a knot in my gut releases as hope blooms.
Quietly, she says, “I don’t want you to regret this later. Regret me. What if you never get another chance like the one Jeremy is giving you? What if you only sing at Hank’s for the rest of your life? You’re too good for that.”
“I could never regret you, sweetheart. I only wish I’d found you sooner so I could’ve loved you longer.
You’re amazing and special, and I don’t care if the only place I ever play is my tailgate and the only audience I ever have is you and our kids.
That’s enough for me. You’re enough for me.
Hell, you’re more than enough,” I say with a small chuckle.
This woman is way too good for me, but I’ll do my damnedest to make sure I’m worth her.
“Oh, my God, Willow. If you don’t kiss that man, I’m going to,” Carrie says, laughing through sniffly tears.
Willow looks over to her mom. I still can’t. My eyes are only for Willow until she says yes. Until she says she’s mine.
“Tell me, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Bobby.”
I can see her licking her lips in preparation and feel her lifting to her toes. I try to be patient and let her kiss me this time, but at the last second, I can’t wait anymore and I meet her halfway.
Though our lips move against one another the way they have dozens of times before, something is different about this kiss. This kiss is a promise of a shared future, of the two of us against the world, of nothing ever coming between us again.
“I love you too.” I murmur the words against her lips, unwilling to stop kissing her but needing to tell her again and again.
After a minute, or hell, maybe it’s several, Carrie clears her throat. “Not to break up the lovefest, but obviously, you’re welcome to stay for dinner, Bobby. And we don’t leave for Great Falls until tomorrow, so I’ll get the guest room fixed up for you.”
Carrie brushes past us, humming a tune that catches my ear. You Are My Sunshine, one of my mom’s favorites. It feels like a sign that she’s here too and approves of what I’m doing. More likely, it’s just a common, popular song, but I prefer to think it’s Mom.
“Guest room?” I ask Willow, giving her a cocky grin.
She gives me back one of those soft smiles, and I almost gasp at how beautiful it is. I’m going to spend my whole life making her give me those, saving each and every one like shiny treasures in my pocket. Proof of a woman well-loved and a life well-lived.
“Mom is surprisingly old-fashioned about that.” Willow shrugs.
“But not the mauling I just laid down on her daughter in her front room?” I growl out on a laugh.
Willow’s eyes go wide, the gray popping behind her lenses. “Oh, my God, she saw all of that!” She buries her face in her hands, but not before I see the blush on her cheeks.
I tilt her chin back up with a light touch of my finger.
“I don’t give a shit, sweetheart. I’ll tell your Mom, your Dad, Hank, the whole damn town how I feel about you.
You want me to spray paint it on a water tower or something?
I’ll do it. Write a song? Done. Name it, because I’m proud to say you’re mine. ”
Her blush has turned heated and she meets my eyes boldly now. “And you’re mine.”
“Fuck yeah, I am.”
Dinner is . . . weirdly quiet. I mean, compared to one of our family dinners, most folks’ meals probably are.
Carrie and Wayne sit at the head and foot of the table, Oakley and his wife, Madison, on one side, and Willow and me on the other.
For six people, the conversation is easy and shockingly, everyone takes turns speaking.
Like I said, weirdly quiet when only one person talks at a time instead of us Tannens and Bennetts chattering over each other like impatient toddlers.
They ask me the standard questions, and though I’ve never been serious enough with anyone to do the ‘meet the family’ routine, I think I ace them, mostly because I love Willow so they’re generously forgiving of my lack of slick, practiced answers.
Wayne asks a lot of questions about the soil composition of the farm, and I tell him how we prep for different crops in different fields, rotating them to keep the soil nutrient-dense. “I’d like to see that, maybe run a few tests if you don’t mind?”
I shrug, worried more about keeping my fork moving because I’m so hungry. “I’ll have to check with Mama Louise. It’s her land now, but I don’t think she’d mind.” If Mama Louise says no, I’ll promise to weed her entire garden for a year to get a yes because I need to make nice with Willow’s dad.
He gives me a nod, looking ready to go right now, and I think I’m on his good side.
Carrie tells Willow about a new exhibit that begins at her gallery, and they talk about composition, lines, and the ‘transformative power of space’.
I have a moment of panic, not understanding anything they’re talking about, but when I look at Wayne, Oakley, and Madison, they seem as lost as I am but are still paying close attention.
They’re all passionate people with their own interests, but they find it in their hearts to support each other, listen to one another, and love their individual obsessions because they’re family. I can see where Willow gets her kind heart. It was cultivated right here with these people.
“Oh, can I show Bobby your gallery collection in the hallway?” Carrie asks Willow.
Willow smiles, hopping up from the table. “Yeah! Actually, I’m going to go get my yearbook too, show him where it all really started.”
“Can I see the doughnut-baby picture too?” I ask, and Willow laughs loud and bright at the memory of our first conversation. Our happiest moments, my getting Betty and her photographing a lady’s doughnut baby for her first photography paycheck.
It feels like I met you yesterday. It feels like I’ve known you forever.
Carrie smiles, getting up from the table. “Let me help you find that yearbook. I can’t remember what shelf I put it on.”
They head down the hallway but don’t go too far, and I overhear Carrie quietly tell Willow, “I’m so proud of you.
You went out there for Hank, fixed that, and made a whole new life for yourself.
It suits you. I can see how much you’ve grown while you’ve been in Great Falls, and I think that man in there has something to do with it.
You’re bigger, bolder somehow. You always were, but it was like you put a lampshade on your brightness.
But now, you’re shining bright, sharing that heart you’ve always had. ”
Willow clears her throat, and though I can’t see her, I know she’s got one of her soft smiles gracing her lips.
Carrie might be seeing that change now for the first time, but I’ve known Willow was sweet, kind, and also strong all along. She’s had to be to put up with Hank. Fine, and me too.
Wayne asks another question about pesticide residues, and I let Willow take her time finding the pictures to show me. I’m good here, with her people, especially knowing that we leave tomorrow to go home. Together.