I laugh, grateful that I’ve chased my tears away. For now. They’ve been replaced by a bubbling up of giddy joy. “Neither did I.”
Maybe the earth is still spinning just as it did before, but the last few days have changed the orbit of my own small world. I feel like I’m living in some kind of reverse modern fairy tale. One with a murky middle and an ambiguous ending. I’ve followed a trail of breadcrumbs and am standing in front of a house made of candy. I’m sure that somewhere, a witch in the form of a massive reality check is waiting to stuff me in an oven.
When she pulls back, still holding my shoulders with hands that are somehow both soft and calloused, I study her face. Round and lined around her eyes with a wide smile, she’s like the embodiment of welcome. Her eyes are the same rich brown as Gavin’s, but she’s nowhere near his—or even my—height. Her hair is a wild tangle of white curls, framing her face and stopping just above her shoulders.
“You’re the most beautiful woman Gavin’s ever brought home. Even with that shiner. I bet there’s a story there. You’ll have to tell me while I’m fixing supper.”
I swear I hear Gavin choking somewhere behind me, and any minute now, my cheeks are going to go up in flames.
“Don’t listen to my lovely wife. You’re the only woman he’s brought home,” Gavin’s father says in a deep voice with an even deeper accent. “Scoot over, dear. It’s my turn.”
And then I’m enveloped in a second hug by Gavin’s father, my cheek crushed into a soft flannel shirt. Thankfully, he doesn’t hold on to me as long as his mother did.
He steps back, looking every bit the rugged rancher stereotype with his worn jeans, big belt buckle, and scuffed boots. His face is an older, more weather-worn version of Gavin’s, with gray hair just peeking out from under his cowboy hat. His smile is wide, white, and every bit as warm as Gavin’s mother.
His hug distracted me momentarily from his words, but my mind scurries right back. Did he say the only girl to come here? Did Gavin’s ex-wife never visit the ranch and his parents? I bite back my questions, filing them away for another time.
“This girl knows how to hug,” Gavin’s mama says.
Gavin gives me a sideways look. “Good to know,” he murmurs so that only I can hear. At least, I hope only I can hear. My Magic 8-Ball predicts the outlook is good for awkward times ahead.
“I’m glad to see you’re not playing favorites or anything,” Gavin says in a wry voice, giving his mother a hug. “It’s good to see you too, Mama. Daddy.”
“Oh, shut up, you,” his mother says, swatting Gavin’s shoulder before he picks her up, swinging her around and making her squeal.
We’ve been here for five minutes, and it’s like Gavin has shed a weighted blanket of worry. He’s lighter, easier, happier. His accent thicker, his smile wider. It’s not going to do anything good for my crush except give it a swift shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.
Gavin sets his mother down and then he and his father give each other one of those manly hugs punctuated with slaps on the back, like they’re trying to see how hard they can smack each other without being the first to cry uncle.
“Is that your little girl?” Mrs. Brownell peeks in the back windows of the truck, where miraculously, Ella is still curled up against the door, asleep.
Gavin’s face clouds a bit, like he’s unsure of the emotions he should be feeling right now. “That’s Ella,” he says gruffly, shooting me a quick look.
I give him a reassuring smile. His father slings an arm over his shoulder and says something quietly in his ear that has him nodding, a muscle flexing in his handsome jaw.
“Should you carry her inside? It’s almost time for supper, but if she’s tired, you could just put her in bed,” his mother says.
“I think she’s overwhelmed with the events of the last day or so.” Gavin shifts uncomfortably, looking from his mother to Ella’s car door. When his eyes land on me, I recognize the panic there.
“I’ll get her,” I say, placing my hand on the door handle. “She seems to have gotten used to me.”
I manage to open the door without Ella falling out and unfasten her seat belt, gathering her in my arms. She sighs against me but