Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
CHELSEA
It’s Bo’s birthday this weekend, and since he has a game, we’re celebrating early.
I have a little get-together planned with our friends later, but I wanted to do something for him alone first. And today is their only day off practice this week, so I took the opportunity to do something special with him off campus.
“You’re really not telling me where we’re going?” Bo looks over at me, smirking.
I tap the address into the GPS screen in his car. We had to take his SUV since he wouldn’t fit comfortably in my Honda Civic.
“Nope. I want you to be surprised when we pull up.” I giggle.
“But it’s not a surprise party, right? I hate those.”
“No, it’s just us. Well, and some other people that we don’t know, but the day is just for us.” I finish putting the address in and sit back in my seat. “Okay, let’s roll, Callaway.” I clap my hands.
He pulls out of the parking space in front of his house, and we head to our destination.
We make small talk on the way. He tells me about his past birthdays and about his circus-themed party for his tenth birthday, which was his favorite even though he doesn’t like circuses.
There were live animals, trapeze artists, clowns, and other circus performers, and I’m sure the food served was incredible.
His cake alone, he said, was the size of a small, round kitchen table.
Let’s just say, my tenth birthday looked a whole lot different from his.
My sister and I celebrated my birthday that year with social services.
It was super fun. My parents had gotten into a fight, and it turned physical, which was normal for us.
But one of our old neighbors heard it and called the cops.
My parents were arrested because they both assaulted the officers.
So, social services was called, and we were picked up from the police station and taken to a shelter for the night.
I didn’t have a cake or presents at all.
Not that I would have had we been at home anyway because my parents forgot that it was my birthday.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the farm where I’m taking Bo to play with golden retrievers. Hearing about him dragging that stuffed animal around when he was little made me sad that he never had a pet.
“What is this? A dog farm?”
We pass through the gates of Golden Prairie Farm, where we see puppies and dogs running through the fields.
“Yes!” I turn in my seat, and I can hardly contain my excitement. I mean, this is like giving myself a present too. I love dogs, and I’m dying to cuddle with some puppies.
He laughs. “Okay, so what are we doing here? You’re not buying a dog, are you?”
“No, silly. So, you know how you told us about your stuffie, Spike?” I lean over the console.
He pulls into a parking spot and puts the car in park, then faces me, smiling. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Okay, well, I got to thinking about what I could get you for your birthday, and then I remembered you telling us that story. So, I looked online to see what puppy farms were in the area that we could just, like, hang out at. Then this place came up, and it was like I won the doggy lottery!” I’m practically bouncing in my seat.
“But what do we do, just play with them or what?”
“I’m glad you asked, Bo.” I pull out my phone from my crossbody.
“Our golden experience includes play time with the dogs, a prairie picnic—I’m not sure what that involves other than food—and a tour of the little store they have here.
I guess it is a working farm and not just the puppy part. ” I set my phone on my lap.
“Come here.” He wiggles his finger toward himself.
I bend further over the console until my face is in front of his.
Bo cups my face and leans into me. “This is possibly the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Then he kisses me softly, tenderly.
When I pull back, I take his face in my hands. “I doubt that, but I felt so bad that you never had a pet, and since neither of us can actually get a dog right now, I thought this could be a temporary fix.” I kiss him again.
“Lucky, this seriously is the best birthday because I get to be with you, but also, I’m not sure anyone has ever done anything so thoughtful for me. Thank you, baby.” He unbuckles his seat belt. “Let’s go see some puppies.” He opens his door.
“You’re welcome! I’m so excited.” I unbuckle my seat belt, tuck my phone back in my bag, get out of the car, and meet him in the back of the car.
He takes my hand in his, and we walk to the entrance.
“Hi. We have a reservation for today,” I tell the girl at the counter.
“Welcome to Golden Prairie Farms. What is the reservation under?” She looks at me with her tablet in hand.
“Callaway,” I tell her.
“Perfect. I have you checked in. You can go outside this door here, and the trail will lead you down to the play area with the dogs. Here’s your bag of treats and a map of the property, so you know where to go for the picnic and where the store is located.
Have fun!” She hands everything over to me.
“Great. Thank you so much.”
“Here, I’ll take it.” Bo takes the treats and the map from me.
“Okay, thanks.” I grab his free hand. “Come on. Puppies are waiting!”
He lets out a deep chuckle. “Let’s go see the puppies.”
An hour later, we make our way to the store to pick up our picnic basket and stroll around to see what they have.
The building is an old wood building that has a rich, earthy smell to it.
There are rows of baskets, filled with different nuts and dried fruits.
They grow pecans, apricots, figs, and apples here.
We’re out of picking season, but they have all the fruit available to buy in various dried mixes. It smells amazing in here, honestly.
They also have T-shirts, sweatshirts, and hats available, so I pick us out matching shirts. Bo wants to buy them, but I insist on paying for them.
We go to the counter to check out and get our basket for the picnic.
“Is this all for you today?” the cashier asks.
“No, we also have the sampler basket under Callaway.” I pull out my phone and show her the receipt in case she needs to see that it’s already paid.
“Okay, I see it here, honey. You’re all good.” She hands me the bag with the shirts, then turns and tells the teenage-looking kid to go in the back and get our basket, but he’s staring at Bo, not responding.
“Are you Bo Callaway?” the teen asks him.
“I am. You a Stallions fan?” Bo smiles what I call his TV smile at the boy.
“Hell yeah, I am.”
“Peter David, language,” the lady at the counter scolds.
“Sorry, Mama.” He laughs. “You’re killing it this season, man. You think you guys will make the playoffs?”
Bo nods. “I do. We have a really great team this year. We have to take it one game at a time, but I think we’ll take the championship this year.”
“Peter, you leave them alone and go get their basket,” his mom tells him.
“Oh yeah, sorry. Be right back, but, hey, can I get your autograph?” he asks Bo as he walks away.
“Yeah, of course. I just need a paper and pen.” Bo leans in toward the counter.
The woman rips off a paper from under the counter and hands it to Bo, along with a pen. “Here you go. Thanks for doing this.”
Bo writes a little note to Peter and then signs his name. “It’s no problem. Love meeting fans.”
“Well, good luck with the rest of the season. We’ll be cheering for y’all for sure!”
“Thank you so much. We appreciate the support. And we’re having a great time here today. I assume this is your farm?” Bo asks.
“Oh good. That’s what we like to hear. Yes, this is our family farm.
It’s been in my husband’s family for over one hundred years.
Started out as a pecan farm, but over time, it expanded.
Then, in our early years of marriage, we decided to turn it into what it is now with the pups and other activities,” she tells us.
“It’s amazing. And everything looks so good. I wanted to grab everything to take home with us,” I tell her. “It smells so good in here too.”
“Thank you. That’s the pies. We make everything in the baskets, but the pecan pie is our specialty, secret family recipe and all.” She giggles, then turns when she sees her son walk back in with the basket in his hand.
“Here you go.” He hands the basket to Bo.
“Thanks, man.” He nods to the counter. “There’s the signature for you.”
“Awesome. Thank you.” The teen reaches out his hand to shake Bo’s.
“Of course. Have a good one.” Bo takes my hand, and we start to walk out of the store.
Once we’re out and walking toward the picnic area, I turn to him and really look at him. Sometimes, I forget that people around the country know who he is. It’s kind of wild to think about. “You’re really good with people. Like, you’re a good man, Bo Callaway.”
He smiles down at me. “Thanks, baby. I try to be.”
“No, you are. And you’re genuine, which I think is one of the best things about you.” I pull his hand up and kiss the back of his.
“Where’s this coming from? Don’t get me wrong; I love it.”
We reach the tables, and he sets the basket down on one.
“I don’t know. I just like watching you and see how you interact with people. You’re a special guy, and I feel really lucky to be in your orbit.” I pull in a deep breath, suddenly feeling emotional.
He sits down on the bench, legs on either side. “Come here,” he says, and he holds my hand as I climb over and straddle the bench too. He takes the bag from my other hand and places it next to the basket, then takes both my hands in his. “Chelsea, if anyone is lucky, it’s me.”
Instead of replying, I just kiss him. Even though I started this open conversation, we’re getting into a territory that I don’t know that I’m ready for. “Let’s eat. I’m sure you’re hungry, and I’m dying to try the pie.”
I pull out a bottle of local organic red wine.
Neither of us really drinks though, so we’ll probably take it home for the girls.
There’s a packet of crackers, some cheese, some of the dried fruits, along with some slices of summer sausage.
Small square sandwiches are neatly wrapped, and they have what looks like cream cheese, fig jam, and a slice of ham.
As I take everything out, Bo sets it up on the table.
“Okay, now, this all looks really good. Probably won’t keep you satisfied for long though, but we have dinner and cake tonight with our friends.” I look at him, and he has a smile on his face and nods.
“This all looks great. Thank you for bringing me here. This is the best date and birthday I’ve ever had.” He leans over and kisses my cheek.
“I’m glad. I wanted to do something special and different.
” I pull out the slices of pie and set them on the table, and then I clear my throat, deciding to give him more of my story.
“So, after my mom died, we went to live with my aunt.” I look over at him, and he nods.
“My sister and I had to go into counseling, and I was struggling to connect with anyone, so they suggested animal therapy. My aunt found a farm near where we lived that worked with kids who’d had traumatic events in their lives.
I started going when I was thirteen, and when my program was completed, I decided to stay on and work with kids who came in like I had. ”
I turn my head and look out over the beautiful landscape. The sun is starting to set, and there is a pink glow in the sky.
“Working there is how I decided I wanted to be a lawyer. Some of those kids who came in had no one to speak for them, and I guess I just want to feel like I can make a difference and be that voice for them when they can’t. Does that make sense?” I look back at him.
“It does make sense.” He nods. “Can I ask about your mom?”
My first instinct is to say no, but I brought it up, so I should tell him something. “You can.”
“How did she die?” he asks cautiously.
I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening around his, almost without me noticing. My gaze drops to our joined hands because it’s easier than looking at his eyes. The words feel heavy in my mouth. I can’t bring myself to tell him the whole story right now, especially on his birthday.
“She was shot.”
When I look up, he’s watching me—not staring, but waiting. His brows knit together just a little, and the silence between us feels like it’s stretching.
“I’m really sorry. Were you close with her?”
I shake my head. “Not in the way you should be close to your mother. My sister and I didn’t have a great life before living with my aunt.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he prods.
A lump rises in my throat. Part of me wants to run, and part of me wants to collapse into his chest and spill everything. “I do know that. It’s just … not always easy for me to talk about.”
He nods. “I get that. But I just want you to know that you can. I want to know you in every way.”
I nod and bite down on my lip to try not to cry. I don’t want his birthday to become something sad.
“I love you, Bo. I hope you feel that.”
I know I need to give him more of myself. He’s always so open and honest with me. And while I’ve been authentically myself with him, there’s a lot he doesn’t know about me. But I don’t ever want him to doubt how I feel because it isn’t easy for me to let someone in like this.
“I do. And I love you too,” he says, then leans in to kiss me.
He pulls back and watches me for a minute, and I think he can sense that’s all he’s getting from me today.
When we pull apart, I turn on the bench and reach for the pie and clear my throat. “I think because it’s your birthday, we should eat dessert first. What do you think?” I look over at him and smile, opening the container.
He smiles at me knowingly and nods. “I think we should eat the pie.”