Don’t kiss her. Not here.
Clearing my throat, I push off, closing her door before rounding to the driver’s side.
As soon as I’m in my seat, she finds the only thing in this car, which is a half-eaten bag of candy that I left sitting in the center console.
“What’s this?” There’s a playful edge to her question as she holds the bag up.
“Candy.”
“Since when are you into Reese’s Pieces?”
A shy smile pulls on my lips. “What can I say? They’re a new favorite.”
She chuckles to herself, pouring out a small handful and popping them into her mouth before she returns them to where she found them.
As soon as we pull out of the parking lot, I shift to drive with my left hand on top of the wheel, sliding my right across the center console and over her thigh. Without missing a beat, Reese slips her palm into mine, lacing our fingers together.
Easy. Natural. Connected as we always are when we’re alone.
And we stay that way for the hour-long drive.
Once the streets turn into single-lane roads and trees begin to canopy the path, Reese finally asks, “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”
I squeeze her hand in mine. “Soon. We’re almost there.”
She doesn’t push for more answers. She just relaxes back into the seat as I continue to drive the ingrained route, trusting I’ll explain when the timing is right.
Soon enough, I slow my speed and turn onto a long gravel path that takes me to a cabin-style home. It blends subtly among the surrounding foliage. It’s quiet and understated. The lake behind it acts as a serene backdrop, and it’s exactly what I needed at the time I bought it.
After Miller and I talked that morning in my kitchen, I knew I wanted to bring Reese here. That conversation acted as all the permission I needed to involve Reese in every part of my life. Even the parts that came before her.
Regardless, I did call my daughter this morning to double-check she’d be okay with me bringing Reese here. She probably rolled her eyes at me on the other end of the line, but then answered my question with a swift, “Absolutely.”
Killing the engine, I hop out of the truck and open Reese’s door for her.
She slowly takes in her surroundings as she steps onto the gravel path that acts as the driveway.
“So, this is my house,” I tell her. “It’s used as a vacation rental these days, but I still own it.”
“Really?” Her eyes trail over the roofline. “Your house from when you played here?”
“Not exactly. When I was playing, I shared an apartment in Denver with some of my teammates. But I bought this place after I left the league.” I gesture to the house. “This is where I raised Miller.”
Realization dawns on her. “Emmett.”
She runs her palm down my arm before slipping her hand into mine. Reese focuses back on the house, her eyes trailing the cabin more carefully as she studies the details. She takes hertime understanding the meaning and importance of this little place.
From behind, I wrap my arms around the front of her shoulders as we look at it together. “I wanted you to see it. I didn’t have someone to share that part of my life with, so I was hoping I could share it with you now.”
“I’d love to see it, Em. But is Miller okay with that?”
My chest tightens at her question.
I love how often she thinks of my daughter. Grown or not, Miller is still my kid. Every time Reese considers her, it reaffirms what I already know. That she’s what I was missing from my life. That she’s my person.
I drop my lips to her hair. “She is. Miller and I had a nice talk. She’s more than okay with...everything.”
I watch the smile spread on Reese’s mouth. “That’s good to hear.”
