CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LIZ
I'm on a fucking horse. How did I let this happen?
Worse. Why do I like it? It's not like I have some aversion to horses.
Visually, they're stunning and I've interacted with them enough over the years through Lena and Trent to know that they're smart and kind creatures.
And I'd never admit it, but I like the damn horsey smell of them, too.
Fine. So maybe I made a pact with myself to never participate out of some stupid, twisted principle that involved never wanting to share an interest with Jovi.
And I blew it.
Because I'm on a horse. And I fucking love it.
Bear, the gelding I'm riding, is massive and solid black but with the personality of a cuddly teddy.
Remmi let slip that he was one of her dad's 'problem' horses, but as usual, Jovi worked his magic and whatever issues Bear had with people have resolved themselves to the point that even I, a total beginner, feels completely safe as we plod along the trail.
Surrounded by tall pines on either side of our path, Jovi is in the lead on his mare, Kimber, Gavin tucked in the saddle in front of him, while Remmi rides a delicate looking mare named Shamrock. She's a flea-bitten color with a light mane which she's wearing in braids thanks to her rider.
Bear and I bring up the rear. A spot I might have felt leery of if Jovi hadn't spent an hour teaching me the basics in the arena before we left.
Not that I'm an expert now by any stretch of the imagination, but I feel confident enough that Bear and I have a basic means of communication and trust between us.
Trust that only grew deeper when a breeze swept through, tossing a dead branch into our path, startling Bear. Despite his obvious instinct to bolt, he merely sidestepped twice before settling and walking around the obtrusion.
"The creek will come into view after this bend," Jovi says, twisting in his saddle to catch my gaze. "Once we're riding alongside the water, it's up to you and Gavin to find the perfect picnic spot," he adds, pointing a finger a Remmi.
"On it!" she tells him and it strikes me how her voice sounds stronger. Happier. More like her old self.
"Don't forget, I brought my camera," I tell her, nudging Bear to come up beside her as the path opens up to make room for it. "We need a pretty backdrop for pictures."
She grins. "Like big rocks and hanging moss?"
I smile back, remembering the fairy photo shoot I did with her when she was four. "You know I like those fairy tale vibes."
"Maybe we can find a patch of wildflowers too," she says, enthusiasm growing as we keep talking.
"Definitely." With the end of summer blending with the onset of fall, we could get lucky and stumble upon some Hollow Joe Pye Weed. The pretty purple blossoms would make for a lovely backdrop.
She smiles. "I'll find the perfect spot."
"Good," I tell her. "I'm counting on you."
We follow Jovi out of the trees and into a clearing, the sound of water running in the creek immediately catching my attention.
I don't remember the last time I came out here.
High school, probably. Back then, people would gather by the creek for bonfires and beers and make out sessions.
Not that I made it to many of those, but Brennan brought me out once or twice.
"It's beautiful out here," I say, Bear slowing to a stop beside Kimber where Jovi has already dismounted and is busy gathering Gavin into his arms, down from Kimber's back. "You ride out here often?"
"Every chance I get." He sets Gavin down and moves on to untie the rolled-up blanket he secured to the back of his saddle along with the picnic he packed into his saddlebags.
I frown, suddenly aware of how easily he put it all together.
"Bring a lot of dates out here back in the day?" I ask before I can stop myself.
He chuckles. "No." He juts his chin toward the water. "I come out here to practice walking through unknown terrain with horses. The creek provides an excellent opportunity to work on trust and communication between horse and rider."
"Oh." I twitch my nose, willing my face not to turn red. When I feel the heat rush into my cheeks anyway, I turn my face away and hurry to dismount.
Once I'm on solid ground, Jovi hands me the blanket in a tradeoff for Bear's reins.
Then he grabs Remmi's horse as well, saddlebags slung over his shoulders while he walks the horses to the water to offer them a drink before tying them to a nearby tree, allowing them room to graze but without accidently getting tangled in their reins.
Forcing my focus away from him, I turn to Gavin, who's busy sitting crouched in the grass, keen eyes watching a trail of ants as they move in and out of a giant mound moving particles of some sort.
"Want to help me pick a good place to spread out our blanket?" I ask, noting that Remmi is already scouting photo backdrops, fingers shaped in a square in front of her eyes as she peers around our surroundings.
"Here," he says, pointing at the spot he's squatting in.
"Maybe we should give the ants a little more room," I tell him. "How about a little closer to the water?"
He stands up in a rush, hurrying over to where the ground is sandier, a little more even. "I like this spot," he says, his little finger directed at an area nestled between several large rocks.
"I like it too." I smile, heading over to spread out our blanket.
"Perfect," Jovi says, coming up behind me, taking in the setting over my shoulder.
He's standing so close, I can feel his warmth at my back.
Can scent the lemongrass of his shower soap.
My brain demands I take a step forward, but my body refuses.
And realizing that, makes the same heat from before rush through my cheeks all over again.
Clearing my throat, I say, "So, what did you bring us for lunch?
" Despite the lack of kitchen in his little place, he refused to let me pack our picnic, insisting it was his idea and therefor his to provide.
He took off shortly after that, and when he returned, summoned us all to the barn.
We've been together ever since. So, I've gathered our meal is some sort of takeout.
Jovi grins, lowering himself to the blanket before calling over the kids. "You want apple or pear?" he asks them both, holding up two different juice boxes. Remmi chooses apple. Gavin pear.
Without warning, Jovi tosses a pear one up at me. I catch it before it can hit me square in the chest.
"I don't get a choice?" I ask, eyeing the small carton or organic juice.
"You hate apple juice," he says, without looking at me, too focused on unpacking lunch. When he’s finished, a small pile of paper wrapped bundles and glass containers sit in a heap on his lap.
"How do you know I hate apple juice?" It's true. I do. Have ever since I had the flu when I was twelve and apple juice was the only thing I could consume without feeling sicker. Once I was better, I never wanted to sip that stuff again.
"Because I've seen your face the last seven years, every time you pour it for one of the kids," he says, letting out a quiet laugh. Then he pats the blanket beside him. "Now get your ass down here so we can eat."
JOVI
For a moment, I think she'll refuse. That she'll march around the blanket and sit between Remmi and Gavin as far away from me as possible.
Then, she surprises us both and lowers herself to sit right beside me.
Trying not to grin, and even harder not to inhale too deeply when I catch a whiff of her vanilla and ginger shampoo, I start handing out sandwiches.
"Cream cheese and cucumber," I say, holding the first one out to Gavin. "No crust." He claps his hands eagerly before accepting the food.
"What did you make for me?" Remmi asks, looking excited now.
I hold out the wrapped meal, "Rolled flatbread with sharp cheddar and sliced apples." And that somehow wasn't the weirdest sandwich I made today. "Your favorite, of course." I hand it over with a wink as she beams back at me.
"You're the best, Uncle Jovi."
"For you? Always." I flash her a broad smile before turning toward Liz.
Her expression is guarded, like she's working overtime to hide her thoughts from me. The fact she's got her head tilted enough to cover one eye with her wavy black hair, only confirms this. "You don't want to know what I packed for you?" I ask her.
"I'm scared to find out," she admits. And despite the underlying sneer in her voice, I don't miss the vulnerability in it.
I reach for her hand, turning it over to place her sandwich in it. I hold on the whole time as I say, "Whole grain pita filled with hummus, mixed greens, dates, carrots, broccoli, avocado and sunflower seeds."
Have I witnessed her make this particular concoction before? No. But I've seen her throw together enough wraps and sandwiches and salads to note she always focuses on four key things. A variation of textures, colors, sweet and savory and hummus. There's always fucking hummus.
The way her expression is caught somewhere between surprised and touched, tells me I landed this one as well as the others.
Slowly, she wraps her fingers around the sandwich I placed in her palm, and I'm forced to release her. "How did you do all of this?" she asks, her voice quiet as she stares down at the lunch I made her.
"Went by the bar. Used the kitchen there." Had to make a grocery store run on the way for a few key ingredients, but for the most part, the kitchen there had most of the supplies needed for sandwiches thanks to a hearty lunch menu.
I pop the lids off the glass containers I brought.
One is filled with grapes, the other holds a combination of raw veggies.
The kids hate sauces and dips and such of all kinds, so I didn't bother with anything other than a small dish of hummus.
I don't need it on my sandwich, but I'll happily dip a carrot stick in there.
"What awe you having, Uncle Jovi?" Gavin asks, leaning forward as I unwrap my own food.
"Pretty basic over here," I say, grinning at him as I lift two thick slices of Texas toast smothered in—-
"PB and J!" he exclaims.
"Yep."
Beside me, Liz frowns. "That's your favorite?"
I shrug. "It's everyone's favorite." And I knew if by chance I screwed something up with the kids' lunches, this would be a safe backup.
She smooths out the paper wrapping before lifting her pita, careful not to let any of the contents spill out. "Funny. I always thought your favorite was roast beef and brie with Dijon and arugula."
Then she takes a bite, poignantly staring at the kids and away from me. Because she's right. That is my favorite. Has been since I was fifteen and first took an interest in the menu at the bar, said interest resulting in a great deal of time spent in that kitchen with the line cooks.
After that little revelation from Liz, conversation hits a lull while we all eat.
When we move on to snack on the fruit and veggies, it picks up again, but the focus is centered around random, silly things.
An art project Remmi did for school. An impression of Gavin's favorite cartoon character.
Singing all the wrong lyrics to a song that's been playing on repeat on the radio.
Once everyone finishes eating, Remmi announces she's found the perfect place for our photoshoot. She wastes no time grabbing Liz's hand and dragging her to said location.
"You know anything about this?" I ask Gavin, who's still busy peeling the skin off a grape with his teeth.
He shrugs. "Aunt Liz likes pictures."
That she does. Though I can't recall ever being in one. Not that I expect today to be any different. This photoshoot is undoubtedly meant for the kids. "Come on, bud. I think you're one of the models."
He pops the last of his grapes in his mouth and scrambles to his feet. "Okay."
When we reach the spot the girls are at, Liz is already busy posing Remmi in front of a large oak, a blanket of Hollow Joe Pye Weed covering the earth several feet in both directions. Remmi was right. It is perfect.
Liz reaches an arm out to Gavin as we approach, waving him closer. Once she has them both in position, she steps back. I expect her to lift her camera to her face and get started. I don't expect her to turn toward me and smile, crooking a finger at me. "You're up."