there are goat droppings everywhere.
I follow the trail, which leads to my old room. Did Ella go sleep alone where she’d slept with Zoey the night before?
I push open the door slowly, not wanting to wake her, thankful that Daddy recently must have greased the hinges so it doesn’t squeak. When the bed comes fully into view, I freeze. Because Ella isn’t alone.
There’s the little girl, spooning a baby goat. Enough to knock my heart off its axis. Lying curled up against Ella is Zoey. Her hair is down, fanning over the pillow like white gold. She came back. I cross the room, freezing when a loud groan sounds from the floor.
Stupid old house and its stupid creaky floors.
When I don’t see movement, I step closer and gently brush my fingers over Zoey’s hair before I can tell myself to stop. It’s then that I notice her smile. I’m about to pull my hand away when her eyes open, finding mine. She looks a lot more awake than I did when my parents got me up a few minutes before.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi?”
Her smile grows, and she begins to wiggle under the covers, like she’s about to get up. “No,” I tell her. “Wait a minute.” Spying her cell phone on the bedside table, I pick it up. “May I?”
She nods, and I unlock it, taking a few photos, then texting them to myself. I set the phone back down, and now she does wiggle out of bed. She’s wearing thin cotton pajama bottoms and a fitted tank top. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen her, and she’s never looked more beautiful with her hair cascading loosely over her exposed shoulders.
Now that we’re almost nose to nose, she covers her mouth with her hand. “Morning breath,” she says. “Can we talk downstairs in a minute? I have to brush my teeth.”
I hope her desire to have clean breath means she wants to do more than talk.
We separate, and I duck into the bathroom downstairs to brush my teeth. For talking. And whatever else.
Mama and Daddy have disappeared. I’m not sure if they went back to bed or out to the barns, but coffee is brewing. I fix two mugs of coffee, then wait until the creaky stairs announce Zoey’s descent. I’m grinning when she walks into the kitchen, thankful that she hasn’t changed, even if she did put her hair up in a ponytail.
I would take her any way I can get her. But in this moment, I love her all sleep-rumpled and adorable.
“Want to drink coffee on the porch and watch the sun rise?”
She glances toward the window. “The sun isn’t up yet?”
“Nope. This is the pre-dawn show. Come on or we’ll miss it.”
I have about ten million questions, or maybe just ten really big ones, but I table them for a few minutes as Zoey and I sip coffee, watching what amounts to the sky rolling out a red carpet for the sun’s arrival.
“Argh!” Zoey says when the sun finally crests, flaming gold and blinding. “My retinas!”
I squint. “Yeah. Don’t look directly at it. Maybe we should move to the swing on the side of the porch. It faces south.”
“Good plan,” she says.
We leave our coffee mugs on the swing, and when we stand, I lace our fingers together with zero hesitation. The contact feels both totally familiar and comfortable, while at the same time making me ache for more. Zoey gives me a smile that reiterates that message, and I swear, my lips are aching to connect with hers.
As we turn the corner to the south side of the porch, I spin to face her. Letting go of her hand, I slide my palms up her arms until one rests on the back of her head and one on her neck. There is no mistaking what this is. Her eyes go a little wide, dropping to my lips, then back up to my eyes.
“Gavin, shouldn’t we talk first?”
“First, last. The order doesn’t matter to me. You came back, and that tells me most of what I need to know. I have things to say, and also things that don’t require words.”
I lean closer, and she flattens her palms against my chest, giving just the slightest pressure.
“Wait. Can we clear up just a few things first? Because I feel like once we start not talking, we won’t want to stop.”
“Fair enough. But I’m starting.”
“Always so bossy,” she says.
I grin. “Not going to change, even if I’m not your