She tosses me a bottle and plants herself on a nearby hay bale like it’s a throne. “What’s the status, ForemanFancy Pants? You build me a wine cellar in that barn yet?”
“Depends. You supplying the wine?” I fire back, trying to keep it light.
She smirks. “Only if you’re pouring. And wearing that shirt that makes Avery drool.”
Cody snorts somewhere behind me. Billy Mac mumbles something about needing earplugs.
Harper leans in a little, dropping the sass just enough to show the worry underneath. “Seriously though, have you heard anything?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. She said Mason had something personal to give her. Whatever it is, I'm sure she will tell us.”
Harper sighs and pushes her sunglasses up into her hair. “That man never could do anything straight. Always some backdoor twist with lawyers and secrets.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, eyes drifting to the tree line again. “And I’ve got a feeling this one’s a doozy.”
But through it all, my eyes keep drifting to the road. Waiting.
Hoping.
Because while we’re out here rebuilding boards and beams, Avery’s digging through the past.
And something tells me she won’t come back the same.
By late afternoon, the sun’s dropped low enough to cast long shadows across the pasture, and most of the crew has peeled off for an early dinner. I’m sweeping out the new side of the barn, watching dust dance in the golden light, when I hear the unmistakable shuffle of small boots on hay.
“Cash?”
I turn. Emmy stands in the doorway, holding a plastic tiara in one hand and a juice box in the other.
“Hey, cowgirl. What’s the royal decree?”
She giggles, walks in like she owns the place, and settles herself on an overturned feed bucket near my boots.
“Mommy’s still gone.”
I nod, setting the broom aside. “She’ll be back soon.”
Emmy tilts her head. “Do you miss her?”
I crouch down in front of her, resting my elbows on my knees. For a second, my mind flashes to the sound of Avery’s laughter echoing through the porch, the way her hand fits in mine like it’s always belonged there.The house feels too quiet without her in it. “Yeah. I do.”
She considers this, then hands me the tiara. “You can borrow this till she gets back.”
I blink at it, then grin. “Wow. That’s a serious honor.”
“You’re welcome,” she says solemnly. “But you gotta promise to wear it.”
So I do. Right on top of my cowboy hat. She claps and laughs so hard she nearly spills her juice.
We spend the next hour doing odd little tasks together, stacking feed, brushing down Buttercup-her favorite pony. She hums as she works, the tune off-key but sweet. Every so often, she glances at the road, like she’s waiting too.
Eventually, we settle on the porch steps with popsicles. Emmy sits close, her shoulder pressed to me, her little legs swinging in time with some song only she hears.
“Are you gonna stay forever?” she asks quietly, catching me off guard.
I look at her. “You want me to?”
She nods, eyes wide and serious. “Mommy smiles more when you’re here.”
