“Whatever,” he says. “You know how she is. I’m just trying to keep her safe.”
Truthfully, I do know how Julie-Mae is, and that worries me. We’ve always been positive about sex and relationships. My mother just told me to keep my legs shut, until somebody rich came along anyway, and I didn’t want that for my daughters. So, I kept an open dialogue in hopes they would feel comfortable talking to me without any shame.
And it worked, because Delia talked to me before she had sex for the first time with her then-boyfriend, now-husband, Jon. I’m hoping the same goes for Julie-Mae.
“What happened to that motorcycle guy?” Jensen asks. “I thought they were going out?”
“He’s toast,” I say, pulling the oven open.
“Good. He was a little shit.”
“Apparently, she didn’t like the kind of beer he ordered one night, and she dumped him on the way home,” I sigh.
“That sounds like her." He tsks. “Julie’s got it out for light beer drinkers.”
“You know Julie-Mae. She’s judgmental and mean to men,” I say. “I think you worry about her more than you need to be worrying.”
“Maybe that’s right,” he says, coming in close.
I take off his hat and let him kiss me. He tastes like mint and Jensen, a flavor I can’t live without anymore. Then, I follow him out onto the porch to watch him walk to the barn, the sun setting behind Sovereign Mountain in the distance.
My horse, the one he got for me years ago, is retired. She’s grazing in the pasture behind the barn, pale light glinting off her coat. I sink down, wrapping my arms around my body, and plant my bare feet on the warm steps. This is my favorite place in the world now. Every morning, I bring my coffee out here and soak everything in. Jensen put up bushes to coax the wrens to nest near the house, and it worked. I’ve witnessed generations of wrens grow up and fly away at this point.
I glance up. Jensen is by the fence, whistling to the horses. My heart warms, remembering all those years ago, when I sat on this porch with him for the first time.
I smile.
He got everything he wanted. And so did I.
CHAPTER TWO
JENSEN
We go out to the stockyards, Landis and I, on Saturday night. When we pull up, I can already tell it’s going to be one of those nights we stay out too late. The pole barn is packed, bodies like sardines in a can. Landis stands outside for a second, having a smoke. He’s going to fight tonight, third round.
A truck door slams, and Deacon appears out of the darkness, his middle son following at his heels. Gage Ryder is hell on wheels, not unlike my Julie-Mae. He’s the spitting image of his father, buzzed head and tattoos up one arm. I’m just waiting for him to do something terrible and send Freya into a spiral. Although, with four boys, she’s pretty well used to chaos.
Deacon pauses at my elbow. “You fighting, Landis?”
Landis jerks his head. “Yeah.”
“Della know?”
He gives him a look that reminds me of myself. Landis doesn’t look anything like me; he’s the spitting image of his biological father, not a drop of Della in that face except his dark gaze.
He’s big, a little broader than me, with brown hair and a handsome face, too handsome to have come from me. There’s asmooth quality to his voice that gave me a jumpscare when he hit puberty, because it’s identical to Leland’s. I could tell that shook Della up. Now, I think it’s healed her, getting to see that face on somebody who loves her, who’d never hurt her.
He forgot a lot of what happened in Kentucky, being only four when it all went down, but it became pretty evident to everyone we weren’t related, and the kids at school started pointing it out. I don’t know who said what to him, but one day he came home with a question that broke my damn heart.
“Did you want to be my dad?” he said, fresh off a day at middle school. “Or was it just because you married Mom?”
I stopped what I was doing to stare at him across the room.
“Who’s woken up with you every night you’ve gotten sick, kid?” I said.
“You did,” he said, voice quiet.
“There’s your answer.”
