Page 87 of Fall Love

And even after that, I don’t intend to leave them behind.

Neve and I are fragile, yet we’re moving at warp speed. There is still something between us. I know what I’ve been keeping from her, and maybe that’s why she doesn’t fully trust me. Or trust this closeness we’re developing. Because something is happening between us. Something unlike anything I’ve felt before, and it isn’t because she’s having our child.

She’s so different from anyone I’ve experienced in the past. Like she’s that something around the corner I’ve been seeking for a long time.

Heck, she even lived around the corner, and I’d missed her for years.

Wasted time, I curse myself.

Speaking of time, the longer I take to tell Neve my secret, the harder it will be to confess the truth. But she’s so close to her due date, I don’t want to upset her. Not yet. Still, I know I need to come clean. Soon.

I hated to leave the comfort of the bed we shared, filled with Neve’s sleeping form and the scent of us coming together, but I have plans with my cousins today. A plan Neve fully endorses. I’m hoping some nature will give me perspective.

The Autumn Equinox arrives today, and a ritual around here is to watch the sun rise, breaching the distant ocean, and spilling through the trees. Like a golden yolk, the fiery flame of a new season will glide upward between two strategically placed oaks, mirroring the Stonehenge effect.

Landon loves to watch it. Fisk uses it as an excuse to drink beer in the morning.

And it’s been ages since the three of us have taken a hike in the woods.

My thoughts are full as we start our pre-dawn trek.

I’m going to be a father.

The idea doesn’t frighten me as much as it should. Everything is already changing.

My feelings for Neve. My thoughts about work. I need a firm plan.

Because Neve lives here, and the baby will be here, too. I could fly in and out like some people do, commuting to the big city and returning on the weekends, but that’s a lot of time and effort. Time I’ll be missing from Neve and the baby. Time I’d rather spend with them.

While the deal with Rusty’s Wrecks wasn’t the largest I’ve ever made, Hessfield Holdings is thrilled with the business it will bring them from Vanderburg, the parent company for Bucky Beaver Body Shop. The major conglomerate has sought property on the coast for three years.

And securing that deal means I’m up for partnership.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been working hard for Hessfield Holdings for fifteen years. Long hours. Rare vacations. Loads of wining and dining and kissing asses. And I did it. I loved it. It’s been lucrative. But there’s always been something missing.

And I think I’ve found it right here in Lovewell Landing. I just don’t know how to make all the pieces fit.

A hard clap to my back and then the sudden appearance of a beer can in front of me, causes me to turn my head toward Landon.

“You’re too quiet,” he states.

“It’s early,” I whisper, as if I don’t want to disturb the darkness still around us. Or the bears, certain to be sleeping somewhere close, but hopefully not too close.

Fisk hums, as he’s a generally silent man himself. He’s normally up early, fishing before he heads to work. He enjoys the peace and quiet before a day of demanding tourists and locals alike.

Both their lives are so different from mine, which includes meeting train schedules and deadlines. Hustling through crowds and dinner reservations. Always looking at the bottom line instead of just sitting on my bottom and relaxing.

“It’s nice up here,” I admit, like I haven’t been here before. Since I haven’t been here in years, it feels different. The leaves are changing with every passing day. Leaf-peepers are already filling the area. The air smells crisp and damp, decaying a little bit, as the season shifts.

“Thinking of staying?” Landon asks, looking toward the sky where it’s starting to lighten enough that you can finally see your hand in front of your own face.

“Trying to think of a way,” I admit.

“Really going to embrace being a dad?” Fisk asks.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Think you’ll be better at it than your dad?” Landon asks next, his voice quiet, knowing how much pressure Forrest Love put on me, wanting me to be a doctor. Landon always had the perfect father. John Abbott is a saint.