Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
GIA
For the past ten days, I’d professionally avoided my own life.
Extra shifts. Overnight calls. Staying up for long hours with Misty.
I’d even done crazed baking fests until my freezer was stuffed full of food I might never eat.
I did anything to ensure I was either too busy or too exhausted to think.
It was a solid system if the goal was slow emotional erosion with a side of sleep deprivation.
Unfortunately, my brain hadn’t agreed to the plan. It kept rewinding those few minutes with Timothy. The kisses. That moment everything had gone quiet and right all at once.
I needed to learn how to stop thinking about the what ifs. I couldn’t offer anything real to anyone, not with all the time it took to care for Misty and never while my father’s shadow stretched over every decision I made. Commitment and imminent disaster didn’t pair well.
Which was why it made perfect sense that I was currently driving out to the Hurst farm. Apparently, I was also a hypocrite.
“Just Buck,” I muttered to myself as I turned down the drive. “You’re here for the dog who is overdue to have those sutures removed. Dogs are safe. Dogs don’t kiss you and destroy your life.”
I pulled in and let out a slow breath when I didn’t see Timothy’s truck. Then, annoyingly, disappointment elbowed in. I ignored it and headed for the door.
It opened to the senior Hurst, the same man I’d met at the clinic. Mason Hurst looked so much like Timothy. It was a preview of what he’d look like grayed out. He reminded me of a face I was trying very hard not to think about.
“I’m here to take out Buck’s sutures and check his tail wound, sir.”
He smiled easily as if there wasn’t a decades-old family feud quietly humming under the surface. “Come on in, Dr. Stevens. Josh said you’d be by.”
The kitchen smelled warm and comforting. And of apple pie. Before I could fully process that, Lisa Hurst caught her husband by the shirt and pulled him in for a quick kiss.
“You brought me a dinner guest.” Lisa eyed me like I might be a surprise dessert.
Mason Hurst blinked. “She’s here to take care of Buck.”
“We’ll set you a place, Dr. Stevens. Can I call you Gia?”
“Gia is fine, ma’am. I wouldn’t want to impose.” I shook my head quickly, already taking a step back like that might physically remove me from the situation.
The older woman folded a kitchen towel with the kind of precision that suggested resistance was pointless. “You can call me Lisa. Are you not hungry? Do you have big plans tonight?”
“No.” I opened my mouth, scrambling for something convincing to get out of dinner. “I—”
“Then you’re staying. It’s settled.” That didn’t feel like a suggestion. She raised her voice. “Sofia, dear, Dr. Gia is here. Once she’s done with Buck, can you be a good host and show her the house while I’m preparing dinner?”
There was a thunder of small feet. Sofia flew down the stairs at a speed that made my safety instincts flare. Miraculously, she didn’t fall.
Her face lit up when she saw me. “Are you done yet?”
“Give me a few minutes with Buck.” I smiled.
“Okay.” She immediately began bouncing in a tight, impatient circle.
My attempt to remove Buck’s sutures turned into a test of focus while Sofia narrated every second of my progress and asked at least twelve times if I was done yet. By the eighth time, even Buck looked concerned for me. Mr. Hurst helped keep Buck still and held his tail for me.
“There,” I said rolling back on my feet. “It’s healed great. Sutures are out. I’m done.”
“I’m going to show you the best part. My house.” Sofia grabbed my hand and dragged me outside into the late-afternoon heat. I paused just long enough to take in the sweep of never-ending pasture beyond the house and the golden light washing over the fields like something out of a painting.
Sofia kept tugging me. Her long dark hair with a light curl bounced with every step. She pulled until we reached a two-story treehouse. It started at ground level with an enclosed staircase that wound upward. The bottom floor held scattered toys, books, and a bench. But the second floor—
Magic.
Soft strings of lights glowed along the walls with the flick of a switch. Wisps of gauzy fabric draped from the ceiling beams like a tiny woodland castle. Pillows in every shade of pink, purple, and mint were piled in corners. Fairy wings hung on hooks by the door.
Big, gruff, permanently annoyed Timothy had built his daughter a dream escape.
“Sit,” Sofia ordered, pointing at a tiny green sofa.
I eyed it suspiciously. “Do you think that thing can hold me?”
“Holds Daddy.”
Well. If it could survive Timothy Hurst, it could survive me.
I sat. My knees ended up at shoulder level.
Within minutes, Sofia had rearranged a little table, seated herself across from me, and dragged over two more chairs—one occupied by an oversized pink axolotl, and the other by a giant stuffed sheep. She poured water into plastic teacups with grave seriousness.
Then, in the solemn voice of a queen holding court, she asked, “Has Daddy done his mad face at you?”
“Not recently.” Not since the barn. Not since the kisses my stupid brain replayed like a favorite song.
“Good.” She nodded, sipping tea in that awkward little pretend-grown-up way kids had. Then her face fell. “My mommy left town with someone she loved more than me. Daddy’s sad. I don’t think he’s sad about her leaving, but about me not having a mommy.”
My heart squeezed. “Oh, sweetheart. You have so many wonderful people here like your grandma who love you.”
She tipped her head, considering that. Then quietly, “Now that Mommy left, Daddy will find a new mommy. Then he might not love me anymore. Like my mommy.”
That hit me square in the gut. Not because she was scared, but somewhere along the way, this sweet little girl had been given the idea that love ran out.
I looked around at the glowing lights, the princess drapes and the ridiculous mountain of pillows. Every inch of this place was built by a man who had probably worked himself half to death just to see her smile.
“Your daddy has a lot of love for you and all the other people in his life. That kind of thing doesn’t run out.” I leaned forward. “Sofia, look at this place. Your daddy built you a whole fairy kingdom.”
She looked around.
“That man has a lot of love for you,” I said, meaning every word.
“Not regular love. Big, stubborn, impossible-to-shake love. The kind that sticks forever. Even if some day he loves someone else enough to want to make her a mommy for you, it will never take away one single piece of the love he has for you. He has a really big heart with a lot of space in it.”
She blinked at me.
Then smiled. “A big heart?”
“The biggest. Unfortunately, it’s attached to a stubborn butthead.”
She gasped, then dissolved into giggles.
I leaned in and whispered, “Don’t you dare tell him I called him that. He’ll make his mad face at me for teaching you the word.”
Her eyes widened with delight. Then she whispered back, scandalized and thrilled, “Butthead.”
* * *
TIMOTHY
I stormed toward the treehouse, half pissed and half terrified over whatever Sofia thought was so important she had to drag Gia off to her private sanctuary to discuss it.
Voices drifted down through the floorboards.
I ducked into the lower level, crouching low enough my back protested, and went still.
Then I heard Sofia’s small voice, soft and scared. “Now that my mommy left, Daddy will find a new mommy. Then he might not love me anymore. Like my mommy.”
What the hell?
Had she been carrying that worry around a long time?
Then Gia answered. “That man has a lot of love for you. Not regular love. Big, stubborn, impossible-to-shake love. The kind that sticks forever.”
I closed my eyes.
Gia’s voice was warm and certain with no hesitation, no empty reassurance. She explained the breadth of my love with the confidence of a woman who knew me. She vocalized every damn thing I’d never been able to put into words.
When she told Sofia my love would never lose “one single piece,” something inside me cracked wide open.
When she called me a stubborn butthead, I almost laughed.
By the time Sofia’s giggles drifted down through the floorboards, I was already backing away, putting distance between myself and something I couldn’t afford to feel. I made the short walk to my house before my body quit cooperating.
At the kitchen counter, I caught myself hard on the edge, head bowed and chest tight enough it felt like a vise had cinched around my ribs. I dragged in a breath that wouldn’t go deep enough. Another. Still not enough.
Emotion hit me like a fist to the sternum. My eyes burned. My throat locked. I pressed the heels of my hands against the counter and stood there. My jaw clenched so hard it ached as I fought for control in the empty silence where no one could see me come apart.
Gia hadn’t just comforted my little girl. She’d said what Sofia needed to hear. She gave her the confidence to know she’d always be loved.
I owed her for that. Far more than she would ever understand.
With cold, violent certainty I swore the man who had taught Gia pain, put fear in her eyes and bruises on her body had no idea what kind of reckoning was coming for him. For what she’d just given my daughter, I would burn his whole fucking world down.
I whipped out my phone.
Timothy: You in?
Mark sent back a thumbs-up emoji.
Timothy: What about Jackie?
Mark: Already on the job.
Part one of my plan was in motion. Mark had integrated himself into the McClary farm as a hired hand.
He’d earn Jimmy’s trust and keep his eyes open.
Eventually, Jimmy would hang himself with his own words and actions.
I figured there was nobody better to outsmart a heartless bastard than someone as coldly motivated and dangerous as Mark.
I’d also had a long meeting with the family attorney yesterday.
He thought the lawsuit stood on shaky ground, built around some vague handwritten document that had never been certified by any legal authority.
Still, he couldn’t promise anything. What we did lock down beyond question were the documents granting me sole custody of Sofia.
I pulled myself together and returned to the main house. My mother had already corralled Sofia and Gia, seating them at the table.
Gia cast me an apologetic glance and whispered as I sat next to her, “Your mom insisted I stay.”
“I heard.” I wanted to say something nice. I owed her a big thank you. The words got stuck in my throat.
My mother put the final two dishes on the table to complement her pot roast. Dad uttered a quick grace.
Then Mom said, “Tell me, girls, what did you two have so much to talk about in the treehouse?”
“Tea,” Sofia supplied.
Sofia and Gia exchanged glances. Gia cleared her throat and said, “What happens in the treehouse stays in the treehouse.”
Sofia dissolved into giggles. She whispered, “Butthead.”
“What did you say, young lady?” my mom asked.
Sofia stared at me and then started giggling again.
My mom smiled, but cast a worried glance my way. “So, Gia, how long have you been a farm veterinarian?”
“Since vet school,” Gia said. “There’s a need for vets who understand how farms work and can move around large animals without fear of getting kicked, trampled, bitten, or mysteriously slimed.” Her eyes darted to mine. She knew I was thinking about her having been kicked recently.
“She handled Carol,” my dad said approvingly. “I named the witchy llama after an ex-girlfriend who tried to shoot me in the butt with a BB gun.”
Gia laughed. “Carol isn’t even close to my worst case. I once worked with an alpaca farm that had twelve running semi-feral in one pasture. Cute from a distance. Up close they were tiny sociopaths with excellent aim when they spit or charged.”
My mom laughed into her drink.
“No one could get near them,” Gia continued.
“That’s where I perfected my dart gun skills.
Problem was, the second one went down sedated, the other eleven formed what I can only describe as a tactical defense unit around it.
They’d be spitting, screaming, and charging like I’d tranquilized their king. ”
Dad barked out a laugh.
“On that farm, problem number two was worse.” Gia shook her head, laughing. “The wife was convinced every woman who stepped foot on their property was trying to, uh…” Her gaze darted to Sofia. “Steal her man.”
My mom blinked. “Oh dear.”
“The man was too terrified of her to do anything without written permission.” Gia smiled at the memory.
“He got into alpaca farming so he could crochet tiny sweaters and stuffed animals out of their wool. Apparently, it’s wildly profitable online.
I made the mistake of complimenting the stitching on one of his crocheted purses, and suddenly his wife was guarding that man like he was the last rotisserie chicken at Costco.
Didn’t exactly break my heart when we weren’t invited back to care for the alpacas. ”
My mother nearly choked on her laughter.
Dinner flew by with Sofia grilling Gia for more farm call stories.
I didn’t want her to leave when she stood. I wanted a few minutes alone with her. To thank her for what she did for Sofia and to clarify we could be friends. Friends.
I had to say it twice because I sure as hell didn’t want to be just friends with her.
“Thank you, Lisa, for the meal. The food and company were what I needed.” Gia stood and headed for the door.
My mom frowned at me in a way that ordered I chase her.
I caught up with Gia at the front door and cleared my throat. “Can you stay a bit longer? Maybe come over to my place. It’s a short walk up the hill. Please. I wanted to talk about a few things. But I have to get Sofia her bath and put her to bed. Maybe you could help?”
Her eyes went wide like that was a step too far.
“She will read the frog,” Sofia announced beside me.
We both jumped and looked down.
Sofia threw her head up and marched out the front door, confident both of us would follow her order.
“Seems that Sofia decided you’re reading the frog book.” I shrugged and motioned Gia to follow me home.