I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “If you’re too busy, I get it. It was just a thought?—”
“I didn’t say no,” she interrupts, her voice softening. “I’m just . . . surprised, I guess.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “So, will you?”
She hesitates for a moment before answering. “Yeah. I’ll help.”
When Nysa arrives an hour later, Maddie lights up like it’s Christmas morning.
“Nysa,” she squeals, running to her and wrapping her tiny arms around Nysa’s legs.
“Hey, Mads,” Nysa says, crouching down to give her a proper hug. “What’ve you been up to?”
“Makin’ cookies,” Maddie announces proudly, her face glowing with excitement.
Nysa looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “Cookies, huh?”
I shrug. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m here to listen to it,” she says, ready to pay attention.
Actually, the story isn’t that long, it takes me less than a couple of minutes to fill her in. “Obviously she’s fired,” I conclude. “I can’t have someone who’ll leave just like that. She didn’t wait for me to acknowledge the text or for me to be back home. She left my two-year-old alone.”
“It’s okay. We’ll find a reliable person later, and in the meantime I can be here for her. It’s not like I can do much,” she reminds me. “My land is an archeological crime scene and grandma doesn’t need me much.”
I snort. “That’s one way to see how they’re treating our lands.”
“Why are you here? I thought you’d be at your childhood home,” she says, bringing back the obvious.
“Ellie said there weren’t enough toys there, so she brought her here—while I was working,” I say and now I’m wondering if she had already planned to leave me and that’s why she did it.
“It’s okay. Today we stay and tomorrow I’ll head to the other house.” Nysa straightens, brushing a curl out of Maddie’s face, and the way Maddie looks at her—like she hung the moon—reminds me exactly why this is dangerous.
“Why don’t we go upstairs to find some crayons and coloring books, Maddie?” Nysa suggests. “Your dad can keep working while we have all the fun.”
“Fun,” Maddie says, wobbling toward the stairs.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of activity. Nysa jumps in like she’s been here for weeks, helping Maddie with her puzzles, reading her books, and even joining her in the other barn to feed the chickens.
Meanwhile, I spend most of my time in the barn with my patients. By the time I finally head back to the house, the sun is dipping low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the porch. The moment I open the door, the smell of something delicious hits me—roasted garlic, herbs, maybe chicken—and my stomach growls in appreciation.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Nysa calls from the kitchen, her voice light and cheerful.
I follow the sound, leaning against the doorway as I take her in.
She’s standing at the stove, one hand stirring something in a pan while Maddie sits perched on her hip, her chubby little hands reaching for the wooden spoon. They’re both laughing about something I can’t hear, their heads close, Maddie’s curls brushing against Nysa’s cheek.
It stops me in my tracks. The way she fits so perfectly with Maddie, like she’s always been here, like she’s part of her life . . . our life.
And God help me, the thought doesn’t scare me like it should.
I should be terrified of this—of how easily she’s slipped into our world, how Maddie’s eyes light up when she sees her, how my chest feels lighter just hearing her laugh.
But I’m not.
I’m rooted to the spot, watching her move with Maddie, the two of them so effortlessly in sync, like they’ve been doing this forever.
Nysa glances over her shoulder, catching me staring, and flashes me a quick smile. “You’re just in time. Maddie’s trying to convince me she’s the head chef.”
