I tuck a leg under me, and Grayson lifts his arm to give me space. One of his massive arms is draped on the steering wheel while the other falls over my leg, the position leaving us tucked into one another. Chandler makes his home on the tops of our joined legs with his neck stretched to see over the dashboard as we make our way toward the back of the property.
“A few years ago,” Grayson starts. “I had just arrived at the farm one morning. I had taken care of the horses and let them out to pasture when I went into the main house to refill my coffee.” He points to a shadow in the distance where the peak of a small roof lies in the tall grass. “Underneath that roof is an old hand-dug well. It’s filled in now, but at the time, it was just an open hole. Maybe three feet wide by about ten feet deep. The morning wasquiet, not a ghosting of wind, and when I took the steps up the front porch I heard the saddest little meow.”
I run my hand over Chandler’s head and down his back, and he arches under my touch. I always wanted to have a cat as a pet. We never had pets growing up. With the long hours my parents worked and the trips we would go on, it wouldn’t have been fair to have one. “The house will be full of hair,” my mom would say. I had even asked for a bird at one point, but she always said no.
“I followed that sad meow through the backyard and it led me to the old well. It had been a rough winter that year, and the heavy snow shifted the old roof we had covering it. The space wasn’t big enough for any person or farm animal to get trapped in, but it was just enough for this little guy to slide under when looking for a warm spot to hide.”
Grayson's voice gets a little somber as he describes the scene he came upon, and as if Chandler is recalling the memory with him, he twists in my lap, using his singular front paw to climb onto Grayson’s shirt. Grayson leans down a little, keeping his eyes focused on the path ahead of us, while letting Chandler place little kisses into his beard.
“I went back to the house and woke up Harper,” he continues. “She was still living with my parents at thattime, thankfully. Theo was at work at the fire station and Lukas was still in the military. Everyone else was out for the day. Harper followed me to the well, and when we realized we couldn’t get him out unless one of us went down there, she volunteered.”
“Damn,” I huff. “Harper is a little spitfire.”
Grayson chuckles at that. “She sure is, but being the older brother, I couldn’t let her go in there. If one of us was going to get hurt, I’d much rather it be me.”
My heart swells. I know, without any doubt, that Grayson is the giver of this family. He cares about everyone, worries about them, puts their needs above his own without a second thought.
“So, you climbed in there?” I prod, knowing that I’d be terrified as hell to do that.
“Sure did. We first got a ladder and I tried to climb down, but it was an old well. By the time I got five feet down, the walls were more narrow than we thought. Years of sitting empty caused it to dry, and they had caved in a bit. I couldn’t fit down there with the ladder.”
I adjust my position so I can scooch even closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder as he slows the drive, maneuvering over some roots and deep trenches. “I climbed back out and we pulled the ladder. We didn’t know what to do, and his meowing was breaking myheart. I didn’t think, really. I just started climbing in, got about two feet down, and let myself drop.”
“What?” I gasp. “Did you even fit?”
He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s the problem. I was able to pick up Chandler, and with my arms raised and Harper leaning over the hole to reach for him, we were able to hand him off. But then I realized I was absolutely, without a doubt, stuck.”
“How’d you get out?”
“Harper panicked. She told me to wait and she ran back to the house. She called Theo at the department. My fatass was trapped down there for two hours until the fire department could get some equipment out here. They sent down a zipline thing that I clipped to my pants and I punched holes in the sides of the walls for something to grip on while they tugged me out.”
My body, even though it’s tucked up against Grayson’s thick one, and even though the air still holds onto the heat from the sunny day, breaks out in goosebumps. Grayson Hart is the definition of a man. A man who can punch dirt holes to climb out of a well, who can throw around fifty pound bales like they’re bouncy balls. The same man who rescued a kitten from its demise and hums Christmas carols to the goats.
“Grayson Hart,” I practically coo, reaching an arm over to squeeze his bicep. “That’s probably the most adorable story I’ve ever heard.”
The faintest blush reddens his ears, and I prop my chin on his shoulder, watching as my silent stare causes the blush to grow.
“It’s nothing, really,” he finally says. “Couldn’t let the poor guy end like that. The only bad thing to come from it is that his front leg was badly mangled from his fall down there. The vet couldn’t save it, but it doesn’t slow you down at all, does it, buddy? And we named him Chandler after thatFriendsshow. Harper said there’s a guy on there that’s a goofy dancer, and that’s how Chan looked when he was learning to walk with one less leg.” His voice lowers into the same soft-pitched tone he uses with Maple as he talks to Chandler, and my heart flutters. I heard once that cats are a good judge of character, and judging by the way Chandler is rubbing against Grayson’s forearm, I’d say that’s true.
Chapter Eleven
Holly
We drive out of the woods and into a clearing where the grass is still nearly waist high, but in the distance, an old farmhouse catches my eye. It’s smaller than the main house, but still fairly large. The overall design resembles the one that is used today, with a long porch that spans the entire front half.
Any paint that once covered the boards has been chipped away, leaving the entire house a muted gray color. The once-pitched roof has started to sag in on one side, but even though it's in disarray, I can tell it was a gorgeous home.
“This was the first farmhouse my great-grandparents built when they established our farm.” Grayson puts the side-by-side into park and shuts off the engine. Chandler takes that opportunity to scamper off the seat, down to the floor, and through the thick grass, disappearing immediately.
“Is he going to be alright?” I ask.
Grayson nods. “Oh yeah, he’s off chasing field mice now. He’ll find his way back to the farm when he’s ready.”
With cautious steps, we walk toward the old house. I find the stump of a fallen tree and check to make sure it's sturdy before climbing up to peer in through a window. Careful not to cut myself on a piece of jagged glass, I rest my hands on the ledge to glance inside and find that I’m transported back in time.
A few pieces of old furniture still sit inside; a broken antique piano rests against one wall. The floorboards that aren’t warped need some serious work, but I’ll bet if they were repaired and buffed, they would be gorgeous. “This is so cool,” I whisper under my breath. I stand back and let Grayson look in, though he doesn’t need the boost of the stump like I do.
I move around to the front of the house and stand on the front step, taking them carefully one at a time, making sure they will hold my weight. Once I reach the top step, I slowly spin around and take in the beauty surrounding me. The massive front yard spans the entire front of the house, leading to the gravel driveway that paves a path off to one side. Everyway I turn, I’m met with an incredible view.
