4
eliza
Spending time trapped in this lobby in the middle of nowhere with a man who seems to see right through me is nerve-racking. It isn't just the way Walker talks to me, it's the way he says things, too.
It's like the man sees right through me. It doesn't help that he looks like something straight off a book cover. He's tall with massive, broad shoulders, dark eyes, and his skin is deliciously tanned. The unironic beard isn't anything I'd see at home, and it gives him a broody quality.
Walker leans against the front desk, arms crossed, studying me in a way that makes my skin prickle. It's not uncomfortable exactly. Just... seen.
"So." His voice is low, unhurried. "You going to tell me why you're really here?"
"I told you. I'm here to see my brother."
"Uh-huh." He doesn't look away. Doesn't blink. "You flew to Texas, then drove all the way from Austin in a rental car days before Christmas to check in on a brother who's been living here happily for a very long time now. Just a casual visit."
"It worked with my schedule. Besides, family doesn't need a reason." My voice is a little more huffy than I'd like.
"No, they don't." He takes a slow sip of his coffee. "But you've got one anyway."
The silence stretches between us. I should look away. I should definitely stop noticing how his forearms flex when he shifts his weight, or how his eyes catch the gray light from the window. But I can't.
"He stopped calling," I finally say. The admission slips out before I can stop it. "It was just he and I for years. Then Mom dies, and he comes here to connect with our father. Only, plot twist, he never comes back."
Walker's expression shifts. Something softer moves through his steady eyes. "That's why you think we're a cult?"
"I never said?—"
"You didn't have to." There's no judgment in his voice, just observation. "You walked in here looking at everything like you expected to find bodies buried under the floorboards."
"Can you blame me? My brother falls off the face of the earth, marries someone I've never met, and suddenly he's living on a ranch doing goat yoga." I fold my arms across my chest. "What would you think?"
Walker's quiet for a long moment. Then he pushes off from the counter and moves toward the window, checking the sky. The clouds have darkened considerably in the last few minutes.
"I'd think my brother found something worth staying for," he says without turning around. "And I'd be scared as hell that maybe he didn't need me anymore. But that's probably just me."
The words hit me square in the chest. I open my mouth to fire back something sharp, something defensive, but nothing comes. He glances over his shoulder, but there's no victory in his expression. Just understanding, and it catches me off guard.
"Danner talks about you all the time, you know. The other Kingridge guys haven't made it easy on him to acclimate." Heturns to face me fully. "Whatever you're afraid of losing, I don't think you've lost it."
The sincerity in his tone almost pulls a tear from me. Why the hell am I letting this man get under my skin? Before I can respond, the big door swings open. Not that I'm counting, but it's been twelve minutes.
Danner bursts through, all windswept and wide smiles. He's wearing a trucker hat that says Fuck the Patriarchy and a flannel shirt that looks like it's been through a hay baler. With the scruffy beard, he's almost unrecognizable. This is not the brother I dropped off at a meditation retreat in Sedona three years ago.
"Eliza!" He crosses the room in three strides and wraps me in a hug so tight it knocks the breath out of me. He smells like something earthy I can't place—a farm, I suppose. "You came. I can't believe you actually came."
"Of course I came." I pull back to look at him, searching his face for the brother I know. The one who didn't mind our distance from the Kingridge name. "You stopped returning my calls. What was I supposed to do?"
"I've been busy." He grins like that explains everything. "There's so much happening here. The sustainability initiatives, the goat yoga program, the new pollinator garden?—"
"Goat yoga," I say the words slowly, like they might make more sense if I give them time.
They don't.
"It's incredible. Very grounding. You should try it while you're here." He's vibrating with joy.
"I'm not here to do yoga with farm animals, Danner. I'm here to bring you home."
His smile flickers. Just for a second. Then it's back, only a little softer now.
