As I sip my foam-rich coffee, the morning sun stretches across the kitchen windows and skylight. It warms me more than the steaming cup ever could. I watch the water shimmer against the new light, sweep my gaze over the wildflowers growing along the riverbend.
If you’d told me a year ago I’d be waking up at the crack of dawn and still feel as content as I do right now, I’d laugh and blame it on bad mushrooms in my ravioli.
It’s no mushroom, I muse as I rest my hand over my swollen belly. It’s restless leg syndrome, frequent potty breaks, and my mind swirling a mile a minute with my due date looming.
That and .?.?. today.
It’s the one-year anniversary of Millie’s accident. The day Dallas lost the woman he loved. The day he wanted to be buried alongside her.
After our wedding night—the night we conceived this baby over by the oak tree—I’ve never doubted his love for me. Or what he’s proven every day since—that we were meant to be.
Despite that, there’s no doubt he’s hurting today. I just worry how badly.
Seeing movement from the side of the house, I catch sight of him riding up on Trouble.
A grin tugs at my lips as I grab my sunhat and coffee and step out onto the back porch.
He catches me watching, a guilt-ridden expression on his face until he sees my smile. Tension easing instantly, he hops off and comes to me, looking up from the bottom steps.
“Morning, beautiful.”
I lean against the rail, my eyes shifting to his dark horse. “When you going to teach me to ride?”
His eyes dip to my belly and he pulls off his leather gloves, shoving them in his back pocket as he slowly climbs up the steps.
“When I’m OK with you riding without me pressed against your back.”
I perk a brow. “When will that be?”
He leans down with a soft kiss to my cheek. “Wouldn’t hold my breath.”
A shiver runs down my spine as he presses a kiss beneath my jaw.
He pulls back, hand still warm against my neck. That guilt back in his eyes as they meet mine. “Hopin’ to be back before you got up.” His thumb brushes over the curve of my stomach. “Restless again?”
I cock my head at him, reminding him that today isn’t about me. “Dallas.”
He shakes his head lightly, his voice hoarse. “I’m all right.” Then kisses my forehead. “I promise.” He steps around me and leans against the porch fence, looking out along the horizon.
I shift to stand beside him, pressing my shoulder against his and following his gaze.
“Haven’t been to her grave in .?.?. I don’t know, months. Brought her some roses. White. She was no simple woman, I’ll tell you that. But she liked white.”
“You could’ve stayed longer, you know?”
His eyes meet mine, stormy and conflicted.
I shrug, feeling helpless to offer him much comfort other than letting him know I’m here for him. “Didn’t have to slip out so early, either.”
“I know.” He slips an arm around me and I lean into him, that woodsy smell wrapping around me. “Stood there .?.?. looking down at the grave I once wished I was buried in .?.?. and could only think of you.”
My brows furrow but I twist my chin up.
He lets out a breath, almost a laugh, running a thumb against my jaw. “Pictured you pullin’ me out. Bringing me back to life. Just like you did the day I found you here.”
My heart melts and breaks at the same time. He swipes a tear I didn’t realize had fallen down my cheek. “She would have loved it here, Dallas.”
He brushes strands of hair from my face. “Maybe for a while.”
