I wish I could say the rest of the night was a breeze, but everything that could go wrong did, and when I finally crawl into bed at nearly eleven, sleep eludes me.
And it’s because of what I said to Odette and what a total crock of shit it was.
“I’m up, I’m up,” I grumble as I push back the heavy black comforter that Ireallydon’t want to crawl out from under.
But I have no choice—I’m being summoned.
Though small, Tootsie makes a hell of a ruckus if she doesn’t get her feed by 6:00 a.m.
I check the clock on the bedside table.
5:55 a.m.
Yep, right on schedule.
I sit on the edge of my king-size bed, trying to coax myself to actually get up. I’m used to running on a shitty sleep schedule, thanks to all my years of traveling for hockey, but I thought I’d be done with that when I retired.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Tootsie clucks loudly again, and I finally push myself out of bed. I do my business in the bathroom, get dressed in my new uniform—jeans and a simple T-shirt—then head downstairs to start the coffeepot.
The hen might be in a hurry, but I am not leaving this house without some caffeine.
While it’s brewing, I comb through the cabinets for something to eat. The only thing I can find is a protein bar. I have no idea how old it is, but I scarf it down anyway. I guess I’ll be hitting the grocery store this morning before opening the cidery.
After the coffee is ready, I pour it into my favorite to-go cup and head outside.
Tootsie is at my feet in an instant, pecking at the tops of my boots.
“I know. You’re starving.” I crouch down to pet her. “Come on, then. Let’s get you some food.”
She darts off the porch and down my long driveway toward the farm. I trail behind her, chuckling at how fast she’s moving. Nothing motivates her more than the promise of food, which is how she makes it all the way to my house every morning to make sure I’m up to feed her.
Truthfully, I don’t mind it. The morning walk is nice, and it helps me start my day with a clear mind. There’s always something so calming about walking between the big evergreens that line the road. It’s not like the farm is far from town, but it feels hours away when I’m out here like this in the early morning, the fog rolling over the hills and through the trees. It’s peaceful.
Something I can use more of lately since Odette started working at the farm.
We’ve been working together for a week and a half now with no incidents to report. No almost kisses, no running into doors, no black eyes or busted noses.
Nada.
I wish I could say we’ve found a good rhythm working together, but all it consists of is grunts—that’s me—and sighs—that’s all her. We barely talk. We certainly don’t banter. We don’t even share breakfast anymore. We just work, argue over silly shit, then go our separate ways.
I know it’s because of what I said to her, that she’s like a sister to me.
God, I wish I could take it back. Every damn fabricated word of it.
But I have to keep telling myself that until I believe it, especially since the days are getting warmer and her shorts are getting shorter.
I try to shake the thoughts from my head as Tootsie leads us into her coop.
I spread some food and collect the fresh eggs they’ve laid to add them to our egg stand before stopping by the pond to check out the goats. After, I head into the barn to get a list of supplies I’ll need. If I’m going into town this early, I may as well stop by the hardware store. I grab the gas cans from the shed for the mower since I’ll need to mow that pasture before it gets too out of hand. The last thing I need to add to my to-do list is cleaning up piles of grass before the wedding.
I’ve been doing that enough by tearing apart the barn. Every time I take something down, another issue pops up. I have no clue how this thing hasn’t completely blown over in one of our windstorms. But I just know I’m going to build it back stronger than ever. I’m going tomake this the best damn wedding this town has ever seen, and not just for Izzy.
Much like Odette wants to do this to show the town she’s not a failure, maybe I want to prove I’m not one either. I may have failed at marriage and being the husband and man Chelsea wanted me to be, but I’m not going to fail at this too.
I don’t have to believe in marriage, but it doesn’t mean I can’t make this place a damn good venue. Ezra was right that this could turn into something big for weddings.
