Lila appears from around Mom’s skirt. She’s clutching her little stuffed horse, fingers working the worn mane.
“You’re going?”
Guilt punches me in the throat.
Faith drops into a crouch so they’re the same height.
“Just to Nana Caroline’s house,” she says gently. “But I’ll come back to visit, okay? I promise. We still have more cookies to bake.”
Lila’s gaze flicks to me, checking if this is allowed.
“You can’t leave Miss Faith without cookies, can you?” I say, forcing a smile.
Lila hesitates, then shakes her head.
“No.” She throws her arms around Faith’s neck in a quick, fierce hug. “Don’t let the snow get you.”
“I won’t,” Faith whispers. “You hold Rusty’s leash for me while I’m gone.”
Lila nods solemnly, as if she’s just been entrusted with the nuclear codes.
And then that’s it.
We spill out onto the porch into the brittle cold. Boone and Nash pretend to be busy over by the barn, but I can see them watching. Clay’s not pretending at all.
Faith climbs into her truck. The engine coughs, then settles. She adjusts the mirrors, even though they’re already fine, just for something to do with her hands.
I step down off the porch and lean an elbow on the open window.
“Remember, keep it slow,” I say. “If she pulls right, don’t fight it. Just ease her back. And if anything feels wrong, you turn around and come back, you hear me?”
Her mouth twists. “Yes, Dad.”
“Smartass,” I mutter.
That earns me a real smile. It hits me dead center.
“Thank you, Dallas,” she says, soft and serious underneath the teasing. “For the car. For… everything.”
I don’t trust my voice, so I just nod.
She hesitates, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. For a second, I think she might speak about last night, might drag it out into the cold light and demand we name it.
She doesn’t.
“Bye,” she says instead.
“Bye, Faith.” I back away from the truck. “Drive safe.”
She puts it in gear. The tires crunch over the packed snow as she rolls down the drive. At the end, she pauses, blinker ticking, then turns toward town.
I stand there and watch her go, same as I did all those years ago on Old Mill Road. Tail lights glowing red against all that white, getting smaller and smaller until they’re just another pair of lights on the highway.
My chest feels hollowed out. Same old ache, familiar as an old bruise.
It’s for the best, I tell myself.
She needs to figure out her life without a man in the way. Without me in the way. She was supposed to marry someone else two days ago; only a fool would think she’s ready for whatever last night was.
