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His eyes zero in on mine. “Not as bad as I was expecting, actually.” He blinks once and sweeps his gaze back to the road. “I suppose the time away helped.”
He’s talking about Bearwood, not me. My imagination is running wild again. “I bet seeing the farm won’t be as bad for you either.”
“I hope you’re right.”
He’s still watching the road, but his gaze seems much farther away. My guess is he’s reliving the past. Rockwell’s parents had surprised everyone with their announcement to divorce, but especially him. I remember hearing from my mom how they’d wanted to divorce for many years but had stayed together and acted as the happy family until Rockwell’s graduation. They hadn’t meant to tell him that very day, but they’d had a big fight, and Rockwell had walked right into it. There was a messy land battle too, which Sandy won, but Rockwell had been in the thick of it for two long years.
My mom had grown closer to Sandy since the split, and some of the things I’d heard really shocked me. Rockwell’s dad hadn’t been faithful for many years and had another woman he loved and a child too—a new half-brother. They married soon after the divorce finalized and have a second child now. They don’t live close, but Rockwell’s dad has a few friends left in town and word gets around.
I don’t blame Rockwell for refusing to come back. A big part of his life had been a lie. But like the town of Bearwood, I don’t think I should be included in everything he turned his back on. Even if he didn’t want to date after everything, I could have been his friend. I don’t know how he survived those first years away. I barely did, and I had a big support group.
“Is all this snow depressing you?” Rockwell asks, stealing a glance at me.
I blink away my stupor. “No, I’m not sad.”
Rockwell doesn’t look convinced. “You look like you’re going to cry. Is it because you know you’re going to have to go out into the cold in a minute?”
“Very funny.” I softly slap his arm again, but secretly I want to stroke it and tell him how proud I am that he relaxed enough to crack a joke.
Rockwell turns the car onto the long gravel drive leading to the Davenport farm. Someone’s plowed it today, and the tires crunch against the snowy rock surface.
“Maybe I’m not cold, but I’m going to fall asleep at this speed. If you go any slower, your mom is going to think you’re an old lady coming to visit.”
His eyes widen. “At least I’m not going to be that old lady someday.”
“At least I’m not that old lady right now.”
“Ha!” Rockwell shakes his head. Then out of nowhere he steps on the gas, and I squeal. We fly down the road and I grab his arm. “You’re going to kill us.”
“Better to die than to take your accusations.”
I clench my teeth and say a little prayer so we don’t slide right into the house when he finally stops. Rockwell peels in front of the house and slams on his brakes. The car does a quarter turn before it halts almost perfectly in front of the steps.
I’m breathing hard, even though I literally haven’t moved for the last thirty seconds. “I almost peed my pants.”
Rockwell laughs and takes my hand off his arm, squeezing it in the process. “Thanks for coming with me. I knew there was a reason I invited you.”
“So you could kill me?”
He laughs again and leans over the console toward me. I think he is going to kiss me, but he stops a few inches from my face. “So you could distract me.”
“I thought I was helping talk to your mom.”
He shrugs, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re a woman of many talents.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Thanks for noticing.”
He grins and his head comes closer. I swallow, anticipation pumping my heart into overdrive. And then he unlocks my seatbelt for me. “Let’s get this business over with so we can take another joyride.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I clamor out of my seat. Is it wrong I’m hoping his leaning toward me with that flirty look in his eyes is part of the joyride I can anticipate? Or am I once again acting the fool by believing Rockwell is going to finally tear down his walls and let me in? I give the car door an extra hard shove like it’s symbolic of closing off my uncompliant thoughts before looking up at the Davenport house.
It isn’t what you’d guess when you think of a farmhouse. It’s got a modern cabin vibe with large, black-trimmed windows and an extensive porch. It isn’t as big as my parent’s place, but it’s probably worth more. I always thought it rivaled the houses featured in magazines. The front is one story, but the back has a daylight basement, and it’s practically all windows with a view to make even a non-outdoorsman drool.
Rockwell slows his step, and I can tell some of his previous easy manners are slipping.
I loop my arm in his. “Don’t make me call out your grandma pace again.”
He pulls his arm in, tightening me to his side. “A grandma can’t throw you over her shoulder and toss you into the pond.”
