When the Heart Lies - By Christina North Page 0,36

I heard what happened. Doesn’t surprise me something came to blows with the old coot, and Savannah—she’s no better.”

“I’m okay. I just wish Max hadn’t had to stay at the house without me, but those EMTs carted me off so fast. If I’d had the chance I would have called you.” She tried not to imagine how Wayde and Savannah were when they were alone with Max.

Veda wrapped her arm around Kinsley’s shoulder and pulled her close with a sympathetic squeeze. “I went up to the house and asked him if Max could come play, but he said no.” Veda wrinkled her face. “Was being away awful?”

“Not so bad. I just worried a lot about Max. Other than being away from him, Lakeside’s better than being here.”

Veda tilted her head and gave her an understanding look. “Of course you were worried, sweetie. Besides the fact Lakeside is like a resort, what do you mean by ‘better than being here?’”

“I’ll tell you in the barn.”

Veda kept her arm around Kinsley’s shoulder, half pushing, half pulling her into the barn. They checked on the kids and continued to talk while the boys played. The rustling sounds of the horses, the smell of hay and manure, and the children’s laughter comforted her. Everything about the moment felt peaceful and meaningful. It made life more bearable having Veda to talk to, and Max having Colt to play with was a godsend.

“So, give me the goods girl. What happened?” Veda asked.

She felt the heat of a blush spread over her cheeks when images of Jackson flooded her head, leaving her emotions stark naked. “You’re going to think I’m foolish if I tell you.”

“Sugar, I need to hear some gossip. Now, tell me what happened.” Veda sat down on a bale of hay and scooted over to make room for her.

She sat next to Veda, bumping her shoulder playfully. “I met a guy.”

“I thought so. There’s always a guy when there’s something good to talk about. What’s he like? Is he cute?”

Romanticisms that she’d been trying to squelch came gushing out. “Oh yeah… he’s cute. And sexy. But what an ego.” She told her all about Scar and Jackson: how they snuck out and how he ended up in the lake. Of course, she also told her about the kissing—twice.

“Dang, maybe I should just go plum crazy once in a while and get myself out of the house a bit.”

Kinsley squeezed her legs together, pressing her folded hands into her lap. She thought she was going to pee herself laughing at Veda’s outlandish statement.

Veda, bopping up and down a bit like a teenager, appeared more than excited for her. “Did you get his number? Will you see him again?”

Kinsley’s smile diminished, and she tilted her head toward Veda. “You know I can’t get involved.”

Veda closed and opened her mouth quickly, producing a smack sound with her tongue. “What are you doing with Wayde? I’ve never seen such a mismatch in all my life.”

“I’m leaving. It’s just going to take a while. I’m going back to Nick. For Max.”

“What about you? Max will never be happy if you aren’t. I get it, you don’t want to be a single parent, but a lot of kids’ parents are divorced. You deserve more. You have to get past the fairy tale and get on with life.” Veda’s frown was sincere as she took Kinsley’s hand and squeezed.

Veda was spot on; Kinsley lived life believing fairytales could come true. She blinked back tears and smiled. “I will.”

“You two wanna stay for dinner tonight? Just going to be me and Colt.”

“Sounds terrific. You’re a lifesaver.” Any time she got away from Wayde was heaven. They had a nice dinner, said their goodbyes, and she and Max headed back.

After Max fell asleep for the night, she returned to the kitchen to wash up the dinner dishes they’d left for her. She never minded if they left them. In front of the sink was the one place she felt comfortable and alone, even though Savannah and Wayde were only two feet away. Day after day, night after night, she was under a spell as she stared out the window. For her, imagining all the people and things the old, crooked oak with the hanging moss had seen over the years was like opening a storybook. Maybe someday two star-crossed lovers would meet there in one of her novels.

“You almost done,” Wayde said.

“Just about.” Too bad she didn’t write fairytales; Wayde would be the