Chapter 22 Devon #2
“Then you already did the hard part, because finding a good woman is the closest thing a man’s ever gonna get to a guarantee in this life.
” His thumb dragged along the edge of his palm, absent, as if he were tracing something only he could see.
“You can do everything right. Work hard. Build something with your own two hands. Keep the lights on and a roof over their head. And still, it can all fall apart in a blink. But a good woman?” He shook his head in silent disbelief.
“She’ll weather even the darkest storm with you.
She’ll hold the pieces together when you don’t have the strength.
She’ll make a hard life feel, not necessarily easy, but definitely worth it. ”
My hand tightened around the rusted edge of the mower, the truth in his words pressing in on my lungs that suddenly didn’t want to cooperate with the whole oxygen thing.
“If you’re lucky enough to have that kind of woman now, don’t waste it.”
It was hard to set me on edge, but as if Lofton had inherited the trait directly from the man himself, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when he looked at me, his blue eyes clearer than they had any right to be.
“You don’t wait for the right time,” he implored.
“You don’t tell yourself you’ll get around to it when things settle down.
Life doesn’t settle. It just keeps moving.
And if you aren’t careful, it’ll move right past you.
I spent too many years thinkin’ I had more time.
More mornings. More dinners. More chances to choose her over everything else.
” A quiet breath left him. “Turns out, time’s the one thing you don’t get to bargain with. ”
My back shot straight. In that moment, Lawrence Beck was lost decades in the past, where his children were still young and his wife still alive, but his present had somehow broken through, shredding him even if he didn’t totally understand why.
Tears welled in his eyes. “I still got ‘em, but I already miss ‘em.”
I swallowed hard, as if that would somehow stop the burn building in my throat. I shifted my focus back to the mower, reaching for a hose that didn’t need adjusting, just to give my hands something to do. Anything to keep from acknowledging the weight of what he’d just handed me.
“So if you’ve got a woman out there who looks at you like you’re somethin’ worth holdin’ onto…” My pulse kicked up. I knew exactly what he was about to say, and I knew it was going to hit me so deep in a place Lawrence Beck had no way of knowing existed inside me.
Or maybe he was far more astute than I ever gave him credit for.
He leaned toward me, dropping his voice as if he were rushing a secret. “Then you hold on right back. With both hands.”
Suddenly, that shed felt too small.
Too real.
Wasn’t that what I feared after all?
The real world—with Lofton. When I was no longer just the steady, but rather a man who made mistakes, a man who didn’t always say the right thing or show her the patience that she deserved.
My greatest insecurity escaped with unstoppable speed. “How do I know if I’m man enough to deserve her?”
He scoffed. “Don’t be a fool, Roger. You’ll never deserve her.
I sure as hell don’t deserve my Clara. But she’s loved me through every mistake, every long day, every time I chose this place over her when I shouldn’t have.
And she’s never made me feel less for it.
Look, we’re men. You’re gonna screw up, you’re gonna argue, you’re gonna apologize, and then you’re gonna make up.
It’s the circle of love. As long as you don’t do anything you can’t take back, don’t call her names she can’t forget, and you spend every day trying to make sure you’re making her life as good as she’s making yours, you’ll be fine. ”
I blew out a breath through my nose and pushed to my feet, needing the movement and the illusion of control.
Maybe I’d been wrong, and I was setting myself up for failure with Lofton. Because waiting for the inevitable wasn’t holding on with both hands. It wasn’t fighting for a good woman or proving to her—and myself—that I’m the man she deserves.
It wasn’t putting myself out there at all.
Actually, what I was doing was a hell of a lot like hiding in plain sight so she couldn’t reach anything worth holding on to either.
And it was so damn obvious that a man who was only partially in touch with reality recognized it before I did.
Walking over to a toolbox, I shook my head.
What the fuck was wrong with me? I was so all over the place when it came to this woman, I was giving myself whiplash.
Stay away.
Draw her close.
Let her in.
Stay away.
Panic and vow not to let her get hurt.
Take her to bed.
More panic.
Resign myself to failure.
And now, hold on with both hands?
Could I even do that?
Snagging a wrench, I looked back out at Lofton.
Sunlight spilled across the round pen, catching in her hair as she tipped her head back, laughing at something Zoey had done. The sound didn’t quite reach me from this distance, but I heard it anyway. Felt it. Like it had carved out its own path straight through my chest.
And fuck me, the happiness on her face was blinding.
She wasn’t waiting for the world to fall apart beneath her feet. Or hiding in the name of self-preservation.
Maybe we’d had it backwards.
Lofton was the steady.
And I was the storm.
“He fucks me like he’s been waiting his whole life to find me. Because I sure as hell have been waiting all of mine to find him.”
The words slid through my head again, slower this time. Heavier.
That wasn’t just something she’d said.
It was something she believed.
I exhaled sharp through my nose.
Holding on with both hands.
Could I do that?
Holding on meant risk.
Risk meant real.
And real meant finally allowing myself to step out of the shadow of fucking Devon Grant of the past and hoping like hell I didn’t screw it up the second I did.
An hour later, I walked back into the barn alone, with grease smeared across the front of my shirt, to find Lofton sitting on Zoey’s trunk, her knee bouncing a million miles per hour.
She shot to her feet the moment she saw me. “Where’s Daddy?”
I slanted my head toward the house. “He got tired. Went back to rest.”
Her body sagged with relief. “How’d it go? The suspense has been killing me.”
I reached into my front pocket and produced a folded five-dollar bill, holding it between two fingers. “Told him I have to order some parts for the mower.” I paused. “Those parts are going to secretly come with a mechanic who knows what the hell he’s doing. But he paid me for my time anyway.”
She crinkled her nose adorably, but her eyes were already laughing. “You should’ve texted me. I would’ve come gotten him.”
I tucked the five back into my pocket. “And miss out on the highlight reel of your childhood? Not a chance.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What did he tell you?”
I rocked back on my heels before pressing up onto my toes. “Well, let’s see. For starters, I can’t believe you sucked your thumb until you were seven.”
Her jaw dropped. “He did not.”
“He absolutely did. Apparently, it was a whole situation with a thumb brace and lots of tears.”
“That is a lie.”
“Mmm.” I tilted my head. “Not what I heard. But if you’d like, Roger can circle back for clarification.”
She pointed at me. “Don’t you dare.”
I grinned. “Oh, I’m daring.” I rubbed my chin like I was contemplating how much damage to do. “Then there was the chicken.”
“No,” she gasped.
“Oh yeah,” I went on, enjoying it way too much. “You snuck a hen into the house because it looked sad.”
She dragged both hands down her face. “Stop it.”
“Legend has it, that bird turned the kitchen into a war zone. Feathers everywhere. Your mom chasing it with a broom while you stood there crying because she was hurting its feelings.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, but her eyes went a little glassy, like she wasn’t just embarrassed anymore. It was like she could almost see it. “Why is this the crap he remembers?”
I shrugged. “That man loves his girls. You, your sister, your mom. It was all he talked about. Well, that and how he spent an entire summer trying to teach you how to ride a bike before giving up.” I arched a teasing brow.
“You ever figure that out, or is that something I’m gonna have to wade in on? ”
“I can ride a bike.” She feigned an attitude, but her smile was too wide.
She walked toward me, and I had no doubt she was going to curve her sexy body around me. I would have loved every second.
Though, despite the way my mind screamed in protest, I took a step back. “Cameras, babe.”
She stopped and sighed. “Is it bedtime yet?”
“Getting there.” I smirked. “Gotta admit, I’m pretty eager myself. I’ve got an inspection to do tonight.”
She twisted her lips. “Is that so?”
“Well, yeah, I didn’t notice that your boobs were two different sizes this morning. I feel like that’s information I should verify independently. In the interest of thoroughness.”
She swatted my arm. “Devon Grant.”
“What? I’m detail oriented. I’m ashamed of myself for missing it.”
Her shoulders shook with laughter, and my thoughts slipped back to that man on the overturned crate, watching ghosts.
His wife in the sunlight. His daughters in the round pen. Forty years of an incredible life laid out in front of him like it was something he could still reach out and touch.
I wanted that. All of it.
A woman I loved so utterly and completely that she became ingrained in my subconscious in such a profound way that she was not just a part of my memories, she was the entire script.
A woman I’d go looking for every morning, long after she was gone.
A woman whose name put a grin on my face at a biological level, even as my mind failed me.
A woman who had the ability to ruin me and still be worth every damn second.
My gaze locked on Lofton.
I didn’t just want that life.
I wanted it with her.