Stepdaughter. It doesn’t take away the sting. Nodding, I turn back to the mantel and set the frame down, careful to make it as perfectly placed as the rest.
It’s not easy to keep my voice from breaking, but I pull it off. “They look nice.” With a deep inhale, I try to push the ache away, then swivel and make my way toward him. I offer a small smile before grabbing one of the bags at his feet and continuing up the stairs.
“Your mom,” he mutters behind me, halting my footsteps. The suitcase rustles as he picks it up and follows. “She didn’t tell you about them?”
I shake my head.
A hand curls around my shoulder, and I stiffen. He must notice because he quickly drops it.
“Bluebell, I’m ...” He lets out a sigh. “I’m so sorry. I asked her to tell you so you’d know what to expect. But if this is too much, if you want me to rent another place for just the two of us while you’re here—”
“No.” I face him. “No, don’t do that.” I wanted to get to know him, and this is him, right? When he raises an eyebrow, I shrug and add, “It’s fine. Promise.”
Wheeling around before he can respond, I make my way to the first door on the right. It’s not latched. I use my shoulder to push it open the rest of the way and step into the bedroom. It’s big—huge, actually, compared to my tiny room back home. The carpet is an impeccable white, and there’s a pine desk in the back corner with a computer. A cherry red rug sprawls from the entrance to the window at the opposite end of the room like it’s welcoming royalty.
Tim comes in behind me and sets my other bag down. “We were going to pick up a few things, you know, decor and stuff.” He takes a breath and rubs his hands together, then scans the room like he’s trying to see it through my eyes. “But, well, Rebecca was worried that might seem presumptuous, so we decided to leave it plain and let you decorate it yourself.”
I take another step inside, lowering my bag. “Thanks, but I’m only going to be here for a few months, if that, so ... I’ll probably leave it how it is.” Turning back to him, I brush a lock of hair behind my ear. I wish this wasn’t so awkward.
“Yeah, of course. Of course.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Okay. Well. I’ll let you get settled then. Sunday is usually takeout night for us, so Rebecca and Kimmie went to pick up some Thai food for dinner. They should be home any minute. You don’t mind Thai, do you? We made sure to order yours without fish oil, so it’s vegan.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’ve never tried it.”
His brows shoot up. “Never?”
“Nope.” I chuckle at his reaction, and his eyes brighten enough to light the room. “The nearest restaurant back home is an hour from our house, and there’s definitely no Thai. We usually just eat from our garden or pick up a few things from the local farm stand.”
Tim huffs out a quiet laugh, scratching his chin. “Same old Susie, huh?” he mutters as though to himself. “Well, I guess I better give you a few minutes of peace before the girls get here.”
He winks playfully, but a sinking sensation presses on my chest.The girls.
I nod, and he exits the room, closing the door behind him.
Letting out an exhale, I look around and take in the white walls. It’s bland, like he said. My room at home is sky blue, and there’s a crooked, burnt orange sun painted on the ceiling above my bed. It’s completely amateur and looks more like an alien egg, but that’s what I get for asking Mom if I could paint it when I was eight.
I tug at my necklace again as homesickness sets in.
But I know it will be worth it.
If there’s one consistent thing about Mom, it’s that she always listens to nature’s call. Heck, she earns a living on the fact, collecting and selling crystals. When the rocks of New Mexico called to her, she warned me this would be a long trip, but I have no clue what that means.
Two months?
Five?
Clearly longer than usual; she didn’t only put me on a plane, but she’s letting Tim enroll me in the local public school while I’m here.
I clasp my hands, taking a second to clear my mind, then reach into the bag closest to me and pull out the only things I need right now. My abalone shell, my lighter, and sweetgrass. Mom would probably use sage instead of sweetgrass for this, but I don’t want to cleanseallthe energy in this room—not when Tim has been here. I just want to cleanse it of anything negative and set the space up for a fresh start.
By the time I’m done with my routine and I’m standing before the closed window, a familiar rich, cupcake-like scent wafts through the room. Warmth fills me as I breathe it in. The syrupy smell is just one of the reasons sweetgrass is a favorite of mine.
Flicking the lock on the window, I push it open, watching as wisps of smoke follow the breeze and dissipate above the swimming pool.
I lean forward and look down at my new backyard. The focal point is the round pool with a small waterfall. Hedges line the perfectly maintained lawn. It’s pretty, definitely my favorite part of the place so far, but the whole area could use a little ...more. I wonder if they’d let me plant lilacs or sage, maybe lavender. Perfect for the spring season coming up.
Beyond the pool sits a small guesthouse. A smile lifts my lips as I wave the final remnants of smoke and negative energy outside. The place looks a little like mine and Mom’s with its cottage style and white exterior, except this one’s taller and has longer windows.
I’m wondering if I’ll be allowed to explore the cute house when movement pulls my attention to its kitchen window directly across the yard from my room. I squint through the sunlight as a figure blurs past once, twice, then stops right in front of the glass with his back to me.
