“Sweet, sweet daughter of mine. Believe what you want. But that man makes many pretty pennies and still cuts my grass twice a month and makes certain my trash can gets to the road every Thursday.”
Emotion warms my cheeks, and I have to mentally scold my heart. Leaving Silas was for the best. I just didn’t expect neither of us to move on.
“I told you why we couldn’t stay together, Mama. He wanted a family. The white picket fence, five bedrooms, a backyard playground. I don’t want kids. Nothing is going to change that.”
My nails bite half-moons into my palms as I brave a glance at my mother. Some unknown emotion flickers across her face before she masks it and asks, “You don’t want kids, or you don’t want to get pregnant again?”
Why is it so hard to suppress the sob that wants to escape?
“Can we not?” I plead with her, but when Mama’s set on a topic, she doesn’t stray.
She glides her fingers over my scalp, gently scratching soothing circles. “It’s a valid question,” she says as she settles against my side and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You have every right to feel the way you do, especially after you lost your first pregnancy. Something like that affects everyone differently, and if you’re adamant you don’t want kids at all, I will never mention it again.” She takes my hands in hers, her nimble fingers sliding between mine to loosen the tension resting there. “But if you do want kids, there are other ways.”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes as my mind cycles back to the nightmare from when I was nineteen. I hate thinking about it. Silas and I were anything but ready—we had no business being parents back then—but when that test came back positive and we heard the heartbeat for the first time, nothing else mattered except the tiny life inside me.
Until it all ended. Until the heartbeat stopped.
Mama wipes away the tears gathering on my lashes, pulling me back to the present.
I hate that her eyes fill with sympathy—or maybe empathy—because she knows the truth as well as I do. I’ve never kept anything from my mama. Even as a small child, I told her every secret, every crush, every time my brothers snuck out. She’s the only one aside from Silas who knows the complete and utter hell that loss caused.
Because Silas Harrison is the only guy to ever hold a place in my heart. He is my heart. But I was too broken to see reason at the time.
“Not sure what your goal is here, but I’d like to not rip my heart out before Noah gets here.”
She leans into me again and holds me close, stroking my hair like she did when I was a kid. “I just want all my children to be happy,” she whispers.
Mama stands and wipes her hands along her thighs. “Well, guess I need to start fixing dinner if we’re having guests. How’s fried chicken, creamed corn, and some of those fresh rolls I made this morning sound?”
“Sounds delicious, Mama, but it’s just Noah. No need to go all out.”
“Oh, you let me have my fun, missy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I mumble as I lie down on the couch. With my brother on his way, I need all the rest I can get.
Instead, the little stereo in my head plays a snippet of a song I heard earlier on repeat. Except it isn’t a song I actually know, so the four seconds of melody just replay. Over. And over. And over, again.
Just as I finally push the soundbite out and start to drift, the doorbell camera chimes seconds before the front door opens.
“Knock, knock.” Noah’s voice carries from the entryway, the heavy wood door closing behind him. “Where y’all at?”
“You didn’t need to drive out here,” I holler, guiding him to the living room with my words.
“You sound like Silas.” He freezes when he spots me, my leg elevated and a melted icepack wrapped around it. “And, clearly, I did need to. What the hell, Oakley Kate? What’d you do? And why did no one tell me?”
“Be-causeyou’re an overprotective oaf who butts into my life whenever you can?”
He huffs a laugh, his arms crossing over his chest. “Fine. That answers the last part. Mind filling me in on the rest?” He settles against the doorframe, looking every bit the man who took over the father roll when ours died.
“I’d rather not. Where’s Jett?” Surely she knows he came out here. They’re rarely far apart for more than a day.
“Nuh-uh. I’m not sharing anything until you tell me why you’re in Steele Valley when your itinerary—that you update for me, might I add—claims you should be in Washington State right now. Instead, you’re laid up on our mom’s couch with a boot and crutches.”
I groan and chuck a pillow at his head. Naturally, it misses and almost knocks a picture frame off the wall next to him. “The klutz in me finally caught up.”
“You’re a random bruise on your hip or run into a wall kind of klutz like Jett. Not one who ends up seriously hurt, sis.”
“It’s no big deal.” Sucking air between my teeth, I struggle to my feet and grab my crutches. I’m not in the mood to be talked down to. Noah is only an inch or two taller than my five-nine, so we’re eye-to-eye like this.
