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Whenever I corner my sister again, next time I’m holding my ground.
I’m not letting Ros go without some real answers.
* * *
Janelleand I finish our coffees over more idle conversation before she gets dragged off by Linda Manson from the Ladies’ Aid—which I can’t believe is still a thing.
Then again, certain parts of Redhaven feel like they never left the Civil War era.
With Janelle gone, I head back home to Grant’s to putter around and unload my groceries.
I know he didn’t bring me here to play housekeeper or cook, but I need to keep my hands busy so my mind doesn’t implode.
I go to work, tidying the house up from top to bottom before tucking myself into the kitchen to prep dinner.
I’ve just gotten two meatloaves together—one normal for me and Nell, the other burning hot with chili, garlic, and hot sauce for Grant—and put them in the oven when the front door opens.
Little Nell’s happy laughter announces their return.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and lean around the kitchen door, watching as Grant squeezes through the front door with Nell perched on his shoulders, swinging her arms everywhere.
It’s a masterpiece of strategic movement, him walking with his legs half-bent and twisting every which way. I’d say she’s getting too big to carry around, but Grant could givemea five-hour piggyback ride without breaking a sweat.
It also looks like something he’s done enough that it’s almost second nature. I can’t help smiling as I step closer.
“Welcome home,” I say.
Grant lifts his head, looking at me with a slow smile that just makes my insides twist.
Neither of us get to say another word to each other, though.
Because with a joyous shriek of “Miss Philia!” Nell launches herself from Grant’s shoulders and throws herself at me, her backpack trailing behind her like a parachuter’s kit.
“Nell!” I dart forward to put myself between her and the floor—just in time to catch an armful of hyperactive kid. “Oof.”
She’s an armful.
I don’t know how I don’t go down ass over elbows, but I catch her and hug her against my chest. She latches on tight, sealing both arms around my neck.
“Hi,” she chirps with a knowing giggle that says she knows exactly what she did.
“Hi, yourself.” I sigh, unable to help smiling. “Let’s not hit the floor face-first today, okay?”
“Oh, I knew you’d catch me,” she announces confidently.
“You have more faith in my reflexes than I do, kiddo.” I tap her nose. “C’mon. I just put meatloaf in the oven. If you help fix the potatoes, I’ll help you with homework later.”
“Deal!”
As she slips her trusting little hand into mine and marches me off to the kitchen, swinging our arms wildly between us, it feels like all my troubles disappear.
For now, it’s just me, this wonderful little girl, and the amazing man who’s stepped in as her father, watching me with something in his eyes that makes heat flash through my cheeks and stir my belly.
We trade soft, lingering smiles before Nell drags along, practically pulling my arm off.
God, this feels so different.
Like something I wouldn’t mind coming home to every day.
