CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Bryce
Itried to insist on driving Leanne to the ranch with me, but she wanted her car—just in case.
I didn’t ask what that meant; in case she gets sick of me and needs to run away? In case something happens with her family and she needs to leave? In case whatever she’s feeling after our unexpected confrontation with Craig gives her pause about this whole thing…?
She didn’t say much while she packed and ate a quick lunch.
She never brought up what I said to Craig about our relationship status, beyond her quipped “boyfriend” before we left.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s true. Although, boyfriend feels entirely inadequate for what I want to be to her, but am I even that in her mind?
I don’t know, and as much as I hoped this weekend might help us figure it out, in light of this afternoon, I don’t know if pushing is a good idea.
I follow her back to the ranch, hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. Today of all days, the anxiety over something happening to her is acute, and I do what I can to brush it off. She’s fine. She drives all the time. Nothing is going to happen.
But it could. And I’d be unable to do anything to stop it. I could lose Leanne, lose my little butterfly… just like I lost Sarah and Sam. In the blink of an eye.
I shake my head, angry at myself for letting those thoughts manifest. But it’s hard to keep them at bay when Leanne is exactly how far along Sarah was with Sam when the accident happened. I try to keep them separate in my mind, but when these parallels crop up, I struggle not to let the fear win.
Goddammit, Bryce, pull it together.
I focus on slowing my erratic breaths as we head up the driveway.
See, we made it. Safe and sound.
Leanne pulls up out front, but I wave her on to follow me to the garage around back. I cleared the space next to mine of the random boxes and equipment that have called it home these past four years. Can’t have her parking outside with the possibility of snow overnight.
“I could’ve parked out front,” she says before she’s even fully out of the car, but I’m already pulling her bag out of the back seat.
“It might snow tonight, and this’ll be your spot eventually,” I say, looking up to catch the surprised look on her face. “If you agree to move in. May as well get used to it.”
She smiles and ducks her head.
I like taking her by surprise. I like it a lot. I like taking care of her even more. And when she lets me, I love that the most.
I toss her bag over my shoulder and rest a hand on the small of her back, encouraging her toward the door. In the mud room, she sits to remove her boots and checks out the space. This is the only room she didn’t poke around in when she visited last time.
Despite its name, it’s pristine. After living my younger years in a house that was always messy and chaotic, the opposite became my sanctuary when I moved in with the Davenports.
Order is my solace. Control is my comfort.
And now she’s here, and that comfort begins to replace the anxiety and fear. It’s part of why I invited her for the weekend—having her close helps me to know she’s okay.
I kick my boots off next to hers and slide them under the bench.
“Come on,” I say, feeling a triumphant satisfaction when she reaches for my hand. I take every moment I get to touch her, be with her, for what it is—a gift.
She pauses momentarily, causing my arm to pull tight when I start down the hallway. “What?” I ask.
She looks at me, then at the bag in my hand, then to the door at the far end of the hall—the door to my room.
I know where I want her to stay—I want her in my bed, in my arms—but she needs to make that call.
Especially after what happened earlier. I don’t know if she’ll want space when she’s already feeling vulnerable and exposed.
I stop at the first door instead of hauling her the additional twenty feet down the hall.
“I thought this could be your room—if you want your own space.” I step in, flipping the light switch, and place her weekender on the foot of the bed.
I rarely have guests, but I always hoped someday there’d be a reason for having decorated this room.
“And the room between this one and mine…”
I pull her out, not wanting to linger and make her feel like she needs to choose where she’s sleeping right now.
I flip the switch in the next room, the soft light illuminating what I’ve been wanting to show her—the other reason for this weekend.
She gasps, a sharp intake of breath I can almost feel in the way she grips my hand in time with it. Her feet are rooted to the soft carpet but her eyes are everywhere.
The glider in the corner… The same one she sat in at the store months ago.
The painted swatches of color on the wall—a velvety pink, a muted lavender, the palest green, a mellow sunny yellow, even a subdued burnt orange color.
A mobile temporarily hanging off the closet door with monarch butterflies floating around.
The taped-off placement for a crib, dresser, and changing table—in the places I think would make most sense, but those could change in a heartbeat if she wants something else.
“You did all this?” Her hoarse whisper is paired with awestruck eyes and salt-streaked cheeks when she looks at me.
I choke on the emotion laying thick between us. Clearing my throat, I say, “I did it for you. I wanted you to see that I’m ready. I’m committed to you being here. If you choose not to move in, we can take everything to your place, or buy duplicates… We can do whatever you want… I’ll do whatever—”
She throws herself into my arms, hers around my neck as she draws my lips down to hers. I pray this is her way of saying she’ll stay.
When she pulls back, I swipe the moisture off her cheeks. “Good surprise?”
She nods. “Best surprise. I can’t believe you bought the chair.” She stares at it longingly.
“Go try it out. I promise I put it together correctly… I think?” I joke, and she laughs, pulling away to sit down. “I thought we could talk more this weekend about what you want for the nursery. Maybe start a registry… Delia and Alex mentioned throwing us a shower.”
“Really?” Her head rises from where she was watching her fingers trail over the fabric-covered armrests.
“Yeah, blondie. Delia was hoping I could give her your mom’s number, if you think she’d be okay with it?” I ask, treading carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her.
She nods, tears welling up in her eyes again. She waves her hand at me when I start toward her. “I’m fine. Stupid hormones, ugh. I think my mom would love that.”
She’s definitely overwhelmed. I walk over and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Want a minute?” I ask, and she nods. “Why don’t you get settled and I’ll meet you in the living room. Take your time.”
She nods again. I back out of the room and her shoulders relax as she leans her head back and closes her eyes. She carries so much, and I wonder if she’ll ever let me take some of that weight.
I would take it all, even if it crushed me, so she could breathe easier.
In the living room, the fireplace roars to life with the press of a button. While I warm my hands over it, staring into the bright orange and red flames, I wonder if I’m doing this right. Am I doing too much? Is any of this what she wants? Am I what she wants?
“Hey.” Her voice makes me jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She sidles up to me, drawn to the warmth of the fire as well.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, my knuckles brushing over her cheekbone.
“You just fed me back at my house.” She’s exasperated with my codling it would seem. “I thought maybe we could take a walk before it gets too dark… I’d like to see the ranch in winter.”
“Are your boots waterproof?”
“Yes, Dad, and I have my hat and gloves,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Definitely exasperated.
I can’t stop my smile though. Even if her calling me “dad” was a joke, it wrecks me in the best way—because it’s a title I will cherish for the rest of my life. I lean down and kiss her brow. “Let’s do it then.”
Ten minutes later, we’re trekking down toward the stables, soft snow and gravel crunching under our feet.
Leanne is bundled in a puffer coat that reaches her knees and a wooly hat with a bobble on top.
She shoved her gloved hands deep in her pockets when we walked outside and it’s the only thing keeping me from reaching for her.
We walk into the stables, the warmth engulfing us as soon as we’re inside. The smell of hay permeates the space and the whinnying of the horses meets our ears as heads pop out of the stall doors to see who’s come for them.
“Hey, boy,” I say, reaching out to rub my hand over the velvety nose of the nearest gelding. I glance over my shoulder and Leanne is standing a few feet back with a wary look on her face. “Ever ridden a horse?”
She quirks an eyebrow and takes a tentative step toward me. “No, just a cowboy.”
I bark a laugh and go back to that night in the tent—like I have so many times in my dreams—and remember the first laugh she gave me when I said she should tell her family she went for a ride.
“Come here.” I grab her wrist and guide her to my side. Lifting our joined hands, I bring them to the horse’s nose. “He’s a good boy. He won’t bite.”
“How many horses are there?”
“We have five. All family horses. This is Ash. He’s Delia’s.
” I release Leanne’s hand and let her continue to stroke the soft nose as I walk farther down the line.
“This is Rusty, Alex’s horse. Lady is Becca’s.
” I keep moving down the line and as Leanne follows, she gets a little braver with her pets for each horse, a wide smile growing on her face.
At the far end of the stable, in the stalls across from each other, are the last two horses.
“This here is Orion. He’s mine.” I lean my forehead to touch his. “Aren’t you, boy?” I whisper, and he kicks his head back a little until his lips drag against my cheek, leaving a smear of horse saliva behind. “Thanks, bud,” I say sarcastically.