“But you’re doing it. She opens up to you.” There is the tiniest bit of jealousy at that fact. But at least Ella is opening up to someone. That’s a start.
Zoey makes a face that I can see even from my periphery. “I’m not doing it right. I’m just talking to her, like I would an adult. That’s not how you’re supposed to be with kids.”
“I think talking to her like any other person is working.” I pause. “Ella doesn’t seem like the typical eight-year-old. Not that I know much about kids either.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Zoey pauses, long enough to give me a sense of dread. “Your ex … is she—was she always like this?”
I hate to think about what Eleanor did or said when she stopped by the house and met Zoey. There’s no telling, and nothing would surprise me.
I think about my beginning with Eleanor. The early days of bliss and glee. Where I couldn’t see the reality of the woman before me, or the future ahead.
“Eleanor puts on a good face, or at least, she did. Back when we met, she just seemed like a sweet, beautiful girl. It was all a mask. I’ve gone over it in my mind so many times. Did she change? Did I? But I think she was simply hiding who she was to get what she wanted.” I chuckle. “And what she wanted was never me. It was money. Over time, what she hid slipped away, leaving only the ugly truth of it.”
“I’m sorry,” Zoey says simply.
She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, letting her fingertips linger for a moment. Her words make something in the back of my throat tickle.
I swallow it down. “Thanks. We’ve got about an hour left of the drive. Why don’t you take a nap too? I know I didn’t let you get a lot of sleep last night.”
She grins. “Yes, someone was very bossy. Not that I’m not used to it. Usually in a bit more of a professional context.”
I’d like her to get used to it. And definitely not in a professional context. It takes me a moment to recover my voice.
“Sorry for that,” I tell her. “And thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she says, her words a quiet murmur that makes me wonder. Did she enjoy it?
Zoey sinks into the back seat again, leaning toward Ella. I sneak glances in the rearview mirror at the two of them whenever I can.
“It meant a lot to me,” I tell her, wanting her to read the meaning behind my words. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Except I want her here not in some official, contracted position that I stupidly created. I want her here as mine. And I intend to do my very best to make sure she knows it.
Chapter Nineteen
Zoey
“You grew up here?” I say, not for the first time as Gavin’s truck bounces over the uneven gravel drive that seems a mile long.
We’d been passing signs for the Brownell Ranch for miles, and though I knew it had to be the one owned by Gavin’s family, seeing it in person was something else. In the distance, a gorgeous white farmhouse sat to the left, a large red barn in the background and what had to be the start of thousands of acres of farmland. I was a little disappointed that I couldn’t see any of the oil rigs, if that was even the right word, that I knew had to be there.
Up ahead to the right, there’s a large gravel lot that still had a dozen or more cars. Another, smaller barn is just beyond the lot and I can see a few smaller pastures with goats, cows, and horses, along with what looks like a giant mountain of hay children are climbing and jumping from. There’s also a massive wooden playground that looked more like a fort, and a few other smaller structures. A tractor pulling smaller cars behind it chugs over a dirt track, with parents and children enjoying the ride.
“I can’t believe this place. It’s incredible.”
Gavin chuckles, glancing at me in the rearview mirror with a warmth in his eyes that I’m still getting used to seeing directed my way. And by getting used to, I mean that every time he looks at me that way, my entire body hums like a plucked string on an instrument. I keep reminding my stupid body that now isn’t the time, but so far, it doesn’t seem to be listening.