It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“Sometimes, we just need a gentle push.”
He was right. But I wondered what it was that Crosby needed a gentle push towards. “Harriet and I solved a lot of life’s problems from this spot.”
His fingers toyed with strands of my hair. “I don’t doubt it. When I suggested that she and I sit out here one afternoon, she wouldn’t let me. She said this was her special spot with her ‘sweet girl.’”
I chuckled, picturing Harriet rejecting Crosby. “I bet you pouted.”
“I don’t pout.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a very manly pout.”
Crosby shook his head. “Think this spot has it in its magic to solve one more of life’s problems?”
“Let’s hope it does. Janet or the Abbots?”
Crosby began twirling a strand of my hair again. “I’m wondering if the two aren’t related.”
I turned to face him. “Janet said Grant called her.”
Crosby’s expression hardened. “It seemed like convenient timing.”
Thoughts churned in my brain. “I haven’t seen her for years.” Since before I left for college. And if anyone knew the kind of injury my mother could inflict, it was Grant. I’d laid bare all the wounds she’d inflicted on me, so, of course, he’d use the knowledge to his advantage. “But what good does it really do him to bring her back?”
Crosby shrugged. “It messes with your head. It’s another warning that he can make your life miserable if he wants to.”
My spine straightened. “But he can’t. Sure, he can make trouble for me, but I refuse to let him steal my joy or my peace. He won’t stop me from fighting tooth and nail for The Gables.”
Crosby gave my hair a gentle tug and pressed a kiss to my head. “That’s my girl.”
It terrified me how much I wanted to be just that.
27
Kenna
My feet pounded against the pavement, the early morning sun fighting off the chill the sweat dotting my skin had created. I was almost back to the start of my ten-mile loop, but I felt like I could do another ten. The thrum of anxiety I felt was the perfect fuel for my muscles. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time before I needed to be at work.
“Geez, Kenna. This is early, even for you.”
I startled at the sound of Caelyn’s voice cutting through the early morning air. Bringing my cool-down jog to a walk, I made my way towards her. “I could say the same for you.”
She held out a set of keys, jangling them. “I told Mr. Walters I’d open today. Why don’t you come in? I’ll make you breakfast.”
I glanced at my watch. “I have time for something quick.”
Caelyn’s lips pursed. “I can make you a scramble really quick, but you need to eat more balanced meals. No more living on that sugar-free coffee crud and energy bars.”
I chuckled. Caelyn had mama bear ingrained in her system. “Those energy bars make life easy. But you know I never turn down your delicious concoctions. Unless it involves those carob chips you’re so fond of. I don’t care what you say, they do not taste like chocolate.”
“Quit trying to sweet-talk me and get inside.” Caelyn unlocked the door to The General Store and flipped on some lights. “Head on back. I have to get a few things from the walk-in.”
I made my way through aisles I knew like the back of my hand. Caelyn, Bell, and I had ridden our bikes here for popsicles or candy bars countless times while growing up. And it was still my preferred grocery store of choice, even after we’d gotten the bigger chain one.
I rested my hands on one of the stools and began to stretch. The last thing I needed was to pull or tear something.
“You’ve lost weight.”
The worry in Caelyn’s tone had me cringing. “I’ve just been busier than usual.” And stressed to the max, worrying about Grant, The Gables, and now Janet.
“You need to take better care of yourself.”
“You sound like Crosby.” After we’d had our talk on the swing last night, he’d taken me back to the house and put one of my frozen meals in the oven, telling me he was withholding all orgasms until I ate a proper dinner. I wasn’t sure a frozen spring pasta counted as proper, but I’d eaten it anyway.
Caelyn arched a brow as she began chopping vegetables. “Crosby, huh?”
I snapped my mouth shut. I should’ve known better than to mention his name to the hopeless romantic of our group. “He’s just…” I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.
“He’s looking out for