And sitting there, surrounded by laughter and cinnamon and a man whose voice still lingered on my skin, I realized something quietly, irrevocably true: For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel alone at someone else’s table.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I STEPPED OUTonto the porch to catch some airwhile Briar stole Lark away to show her the dogs, cats, chickens, or whatever she was fussin’ over today. The sunshine hit my shoulders warm, the kind of heat that sank right through a man.
The barn door stood open, same as always, so I headed that way out of habit. Daddy was already inside, bent over the old tractor engine he’d been “about to fix” for three damn years. I leaned against the doorway, watching him wipe grease from his hands.
The place smelled like hay, oil, and dust, the scent of my whole damn childhood. Daddy didn’t look up, jaw working in that slow, thoughtful grind.
I stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind me.
“You’re lurkin’,” he said.
“I’m not lurkin’.”
“You’re standin’ there like a man with too many thoughts and not enough courage to say ’em out loud. That’s lurkin’ in my book.”
I huffed something close to a laugh and crouched beside him as he nudged a wrench my way. “You need help with this bolt?”
“Nope,” he said. “But you can help anyway.”
His way of sayin’:sit your ass down so we can talk without makin’ a show of it.
We worked in that easy quiet, metal clinking, birds outside, wind slipping through the slats. Felt like bein’ fifteen again, helpin’ him patch up whatever needed fixin’.
After a minute, Daddy wiped his hands on a rag and said, “She’s a good one.”
My chest tightened. “Yeah,” I said, careful as I could. “She is.”
“Good ones are rare. Hard to come by. Harder to keep.”
I kept my eyes on the engine, jaw tight. “Didn’t say I was tryin’ to keep anything.”
“Boy,” he said, turning toward me, “I’ve watched you chase half the women in this damn state, and not once have you brought one here. Not once have you sat at that kitchen table lookin’ like someone knocked the wind outta you with just a smile.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck. “I’m not—”
“Don’t lie. I rode with the club before you were born. I know the look of a man who’s been livin’ fast and suddenly realizes he wants somethin’ different.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“No,” he snorted. “It damn sure ain’t.”
He sat back on his heels, eyes sharp with the kind of knowledge you only get from doin’ life wrong before you do it right. “This is more than fatherly advice, son. This is me talkin’ as someone who’s been where you’re standin’.”
I didn’t move.
“You used to run wild,” he said. “Women in and out, no attachments, no thought past the next night. I get it. I lived that life before your ma finally stole my dumb ass from the fire.”
That one surprised me, he never talked about the women before Ma.
“Club life’ll make it easy to lose yourself,” he went on. “You keep busy, keep beddin’ whoever crosses your path, and tell yourself you’re free. But really, you’re just avoidin’ anything real. Anything that might ask you to stay put.”
Something heavy settled under my ribs.
He nudged my knee with his grease-stained hand. “You serious about this girl?”
The answer shot out before I could think. “Yeah. I am.”
