He’s being genuinely kind, and I know I’m being a little shitty, but I can’t pretend this is okay. I’m not okay. None of this is even remotely okay.
The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, and my mind does what it always does—turns on me. Spiraling straight into the worst places.
He doesn’t seem like the kind of person my father would call a friend. He’s too warm. Too grounded. Too normal.
A chill creeps down my spine as a darker thought hits. What if he’s not a friend at all? What if he’s one of Warren’s clients? Someone he kept out of prison? Someone who owes him a favor?
My stomach twists. The thought burns through me before I can swallow it down.
“How do you know Warren?” I blurt, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “You weren’t a client or something, were you?”
He glances over, brow furrowing and a hint of surprise in his voice. “You call your dad by his first name?” When I don’t answer, he exhales softly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “No, nothing like that. My record’s clean.”
I nod. That doesn’t explain how he knows Warren, but at least now I know he’s not a criminal.
Glancing out the window, my eyes blur as I focus on the horizon. Mountains stretching as far as I can see. The quiet drone of the truck and the 90s country radio station playing softly in the background.
My brain still hasn’t caught up to reality. It hasn’t sunk in that I’m really here. That this wasn’t an empty threat Warren made in a moment of anger.
This is happening.
“We’re really glad to have you here with us for the summer, Sadie,” Heath says, his voice softer than before. “Our home is your home while you’re with us.”
I nod but don’t say anything. Something about the way he says it sounds real. Not like a hollow, overly polite line people use when they don’t know what else to say.
It sounds…genuine.
And it’s weirdly comforting. I’ve never really felt at home anywhere before.
“If you need anything, my boys’ll be around to help. Don’t hesitate to ask.”
I blink.Boys?
A neutral expression masks the twist tightening in my gut.My boys.Plural.
Great.I had no idea there would be sons involved in this whole mess. That’s really, really great. Exactly what I was hoping for—more strangers witnessing the slow-motion train wreck that is my life.
I breathe through the tightness in my chest.
Spending my summer on a ranch in the middle of nowhere could be a blessing in disguise. A blessing I did not ask for and definitely don’t want—but a blessing nonetheless.
An hour and a half later, we finally pull through the main gate, passing under a huge weathered wooden arch with a faded sign that readsThe Wildflower.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my denim shorts, needing to give my hands something to do.
We slowly roll down the dirt and gravel drive, passing a few vintage-style A-frame cabins, spaced out along the drive.
Farther out, there are a few fenced-in grassy areas and an old barn that looks like it’s been standing here longer than anything else. Behind it, there’s a lodge-style house tucked near the trees—but mostly, it’s wide-open space, framed by endless trees and a stunning mountain backdrop.
The truck stops in front of a gorgeous two-story log cabin with a few modern touches. It’s beautiful. Cozy and charming andoozing with character. Nothing like the crowded, ostentatious McMansions cluttering the neighborhoods back home.
The mountains behind it off in the distance make it even more breathtaking, like a painting brought to life.
Heath’s unloading my suitcase from the truck bed by the time I climb out and circle around to help, feeling guilty for taking my frustration out on him.
“Don’t you dare,” he gruffs. “The boys should be out here anyway to say hello and give you the grand tour.”
Nodding, I step aside, feeling awkward again and not knowing what the fuck I’m supposed to do with my hands. My fingers find the hem of my T-shirt, twisting it without thinking.
