Chapter 13 #2
Or at least, I’m even more willing to push back and not accept that his grumpy, judgy approach is the last word.
I’m finding my backbone, my spark, and I’m not going to let anyone step on it again—even a surly single dad sheriff.
But I can also say no and not feel bad about it.
I should probably just say it outright instead of bailing on him in the future.
Plus, it makes no sense for May to drive me home when I’m literally going to Grant’s garage.
Once the girls are loaded up, Grant slips into his seat and gives me a look.
I don’t know how I know he’s asking me if I’m ready, but I do, so I nod.
Then he shifts into gear and navigates the long, graveled road that leads up to this lovely farmhouse.
I’m not great at measuring distance, but it’s farther than I can see to the main road, then several miles until we reach Grant’s driveway.
In a word, it’s sprawling. I can’t wait to see it again in the daylight.
It’s the absolute stuff of dreams, and so were the people.
In truth, as I watch the moonlit land slip by, I’m resisting the pull to shrivel up and feel small.
I’m so tired of that reflex, so tired of feeling embarrassed by my choices, and my past. But the comfort and security the Ryans have in so many categories throws my life in sharp relief.
I don’t even think it’s that I feel sorry for myself, though I’ve spent some time in that place.
It’s more that I feel so clearly that as much as they’re welcoming and accepting, I simply don’t have a place here.
Still, I’m grateful to have been invited. To have seen what family can look like.
On that note, I break the silence. “Your family’s pretty great.”
“They are.”
Okay. So much for a conversational inroad.
“Thanks for letting me join the dinner.”
“My parents invited you.”
Okayyy. That’s clear enough.
“I just mean, if they invited you, then they mean it. They don’t do things halfway. So it wasn’t up to me. But I’m glad you had a good time.”
Better. I appreciate the clarification, certainly. “It must’ve been wild growing up as the oldest of six.”
He huffs. “You have no idea. It still is wild, and we’re all adults.”
“I was an only child, so you’re right. That whole thing was so foreign to me. But it was nice.”
It’s quiet as we drive in the cozy dark of the farmland surrounding his parents’ place. We turn onto the main road, and I look out at all the stars. There are so many more visible here.
“What is a Dark Sky community?” I’ve meant to look it up but haven’t taken the time. I saw a display in city hall when I walked by but didn’t have time to stop.
“It means we manage our light output to maintain literal dark sky. There’s a certification and everything—we have rules about brightness and what time lights can go on, for how long, that kind of thing.
It’s part minimizing light pollution, part increasing conservation efforts for nocturnal animals.
People come visit then go camp out in the state park nearby because it’s a certified Dark Sky park.
Basically, it means it’s very dark at night and with that comes a million more stars than you’ve ever seen. ”
There’s a touch of pride in his voice. I don’t know why, but I like the idea of people trying to make sure their light pollution isn’t ruining someone else’s view. What a wildly considerate thing, to say the least.
And completely opposite from LA.
Much like many things here.
“Are you liking it here?” It’s not exactly forced, but something about it makes me think he feels awkward asking.
“I do. It’s really charming. Even with a microscopic library, I still found some bookish people, too.” It’s kind of amazing I’ve already met people with common interests.
He hums softly. It’s low and rumbly, and I do not acknowledge the appeal of it.
“Good.”
That’s it. And I suppose I didn’t give him much to begin with.
We don’t talk again, and neither do the girls. I wonder if they’re awake, but I don’t dare peek and disturb them. When we pull into the driveway of his house and park, one of them lets out a soft snore.
“Need help getting them inside?”
“No.”
It’s instant, and not cutting, but so definite, I’m almost embarrassed I asked.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound short. I appreciate the offer.”
I nod, then realize he might not be able to see me. “Any time.”
Happily, I mean it. I loved getting to see the girls interact with their family—Grant’s family. They’re adorable and he’s so sweet with them, spending time with them wouldn’t be a hardship.
After exiting the car, I head toward the garage apartment, but stop short before he opens Poppy’s door.
“Hey, Grant?”
He turns to look at me, that masculine profile of his sending a weighty flash of awareness through me.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I just…” How can I explain the panic I felt at the thought of getting in the car with him?
The gnawing irritation and sense that if I did, he’d somehow see it as a victory over me, like he’s exactly the same as my ex and not a completely different person?
The relief that let me take a full breath for the first time in hours once May messaged to offer the ride.
I’m not proud of it, especially now with new insights into him. Still. I’m just trying to figure myself out and trust my gut again.
“I’m glad you came, Sam. Have a good night.”
“You, too.” My voice is nothing in the night air, but our gazes stay locked from twenty feet apart until he turns back to his task of unloading his kids.
I want to stay out and look at the stars—count how many more I can see here.
Maybe part of me even wants to see him carrying his daughters inside, but I’m aware enough to know that’s a mistake.
It’s been a beautiful evening, but as lovely as it was, I’m feeling a little bruised by it.
I’m feeling my broken pieces in the face of such wholeness, and it’s best if I go inside.