“Emma, would you like some help with the dishes?” I ask her, feeling badly for leaving her with the mess, when I ate here for free.
“Hush, doll. You enjoy that child. Believe me, they don’t stay that way for long.”
“Are you sure?”
She comes over and kisses my temple again. “I’m positive, love. Now I’ve got fresh bedding in Zack’s room, so, whenever you want, you get Gunner to take you on over to Felicia’s and get your things. Just bring enough for a couple of days, we can do a load of wash for you.”
“Okay.” I nod, and then I look over at Gunner. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll even let you drive if you want.”
His brothers make catcalls, teasing him. “Oh, Lord! He’s got it bad for you, girl! He doesn’t let anyone drive his truck!” Austin barks.
“Oh, man, Gunner…hell, you won’t even letmedrive that monster.” Blake comments.
“That true, Gunner?” Ruby asks. “How come you let Ava here drive it?”
“Because I know that she won’t mess it up.” Gunner answers, matter-of-factly.
“How do you know that?” Zack interjects.
“Because…well…never mind why. She just won’t.”
“Come on, Gunner…what is it, doll?” Emma asks as she and Zack put the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Well, she’s just so…tiny. How could she hurt my truck?” he says tentatively, almost embarrassed, and it’s adorable. And then he looks at me sheepishly, and I melt. I am so in love with him it hurts. But God strike me dead for dreading sleeping with him and pursuing something further. I don’t want to lose what we have.
…and in the next few weeks I’m going to realize just how much we really do have.
Chapter 15
Gunner
“I’ll just be a few minutes.” Ava says, as we enter the house that she’s staying at with Felicia. It’s empty, as Ava explained that Felicia is gone on a teacher’s conference in Boston, and I see the excitement on her face for this lady.
“You take your time. There’s no rush.”
She looks at me, eyes dancing. “Well, of course there is, we’ve got some riding to do and Tucker’s coming over later.” She shrugs, excited, grinning. God, how much do I love her?
“There’s that.” I say, pointing at her, wanting so badly to hold her close to me, but I know that she’s not ready for that. I’m not sure how long I can hold out, not showing her how much I love her, but I guess, in the meantime, I can show her in other ways. Like taking her riding whenever she wants, driving her to school and to work, and treating her like the princess she deserves to be treated like. I feel like I can’t give her enough, and that’s the problem.
I don’t follow her to her bedroom, fearing that’ll make her uncomfortable. “You need any help?” I call to her, looking at the small, quaint home that she’s staying in. Felicia keeps it updated and fresh, and very clean. Just like our house.
“No, I’ll just be a minute.” She calls back. Ava doesn’t wear makeup or fancy clothes, so I’m guessing all she’s got to put together is some outfits, toiletries and pyjamas, which I reckon won’t take long. When she reappears not five minutes later, she sets a duffel bag on the floor in the kitchen, and hands me a long, square-shaped package, that’s wrapped in gift paper colored a shiny red, with a bow on top.
“What’s this?”
She lifts a hand. “Before you ask, I creeped your Facebook page. It’s just…something I wanted to do for you in thanks for all that you’ve done for me.” Her smile makes me smile, and suddenly I’m excited for what’s under the wrapping paper. She’s excited, too, which adds to the moment.
“Now, what did you go and do, love? You didn’t have to do anything at all.”
“I wanted to.” She gives me a smile that says everything it needs to say. She loves me, too, and that’s gift enough for me.
As I open it, I quickly see that it’s a giant photo collage. It’s got all kinds of pictures of me with my dad, spanning from when I was a baby, right up until the last picture we had taken together before he died. She even included the picture my mama took of me and daddy playing with my Mystery Machine RC car. As I glance at it, looking at all the photos, done up artfully in a cloud-like format, I feel a lump in my throat. This is something that I’ll cherish forever. I don’t have any of these photographs printed, other than what’s in mama’s photo album, tucked away in the basement.
“Do you like it?” she asks, concern registering on her face.
I don’t trust myself to talk. The emotion is overwhelming. After a beat, I manage a tiny gasp, as a tear falls down my cheek. “I love it, darlin’. That was awful thoughtful of you.”
