Everyone laughs and Eirinn throws her napkin at him, nailing him in the face. The conversation moves on from names and origins, and I fall into the moment so fully, I forget I don’t belong here, that I’m not part of this family. Even with my meaningless name and the ache in my chest for what Grant and the girls have been through still there.
An hour later, everyone has helped clear the table, wash the dishes, and before it’s all completely done, Mary shoos me, Grant, and the girls out the front door. “He’ll take you home. You all need rest.”
May catches my eye and I give her a nod. I might’ve been relieved to avoid coming over with Grant earlier, but I can admit I built it up too much in my head like a loon. I’m safe with him, and though it’s wild to think that with such clarity, it’s not just a thought. I know it on a gut level. But I couldn’t stand to show up because he ordered me to. Call me Belle refusing to go to dinner after theBeast shows up and growls at her. Me, too, girl. I’d rather starve.
But it wasn’t that bad, of course, and I’m feeling a touch embarrassed for blowing him off without a word.
We may not like each other all that well, but we’re finding our way toward something cordial, at least. I’ve been too quick to find his declarations not just frustrating, but bossy and downright demanding in a way they simply aren’t. After seeing him in this context and getting more of a sense of what he’s been through, I think I get it.
Or at least, I’m even more willing to push back and not accept that his grumpy, judgy approach is the last word. I’m finding my backbone, my spark, and I’m not going to let anyone step on it again—even a surly single dad sheriff. But I can also say no and not feel bad about it. I should probably just say it outright instead of bailing on him in the future.
Plus, it makes no sense for May to drive me home when I’m literally going to Grant’s garage.
Once the girls are loaded up, Grant slips into his seat and gives me a look. I don’t know how I know he’s asking me if I’m ready, but I do, so I nod. Then he shifts into gear and navigates the long, graveled road that leads up to this lovely farmhouse. I’m not great at measuring distance, but it’s farther than I can see to the main road, then several miles until we reach Grant’s driveway. In a word, it’s sprawling. I can’t wait to see it again in the daylight. It’s the absolute stuff of dreams, and so were the people.
In truth, as I watch the moonlit land slip by, I’m resisting the pull to shrivel up and feel small. I’m so tired of that reflex, so tired of feeling embarrassed by my choices, and my past. But the comfort and security the Ryans have in so many categories throws my life in sharp relief. I don’t even think it’s that I feel sorry for myself, though I’ve spentsome time in that place. It’s more that I feel so clearly that as much as they’re welcoming and accepting, I simply don’t have a place here.
Still, I’m grateful to have been invited. To have seen what family can look like.
On that note, I break the silence. “Your family’s pretty great.”
“They are.”
Okay. So much for a conversational inroad.
“Thanks for letting me join the dinner.”
“My parents invited you.”
Okayyy.That’s clear enough.
“I just mean, if they invited you, then they mean it. They don’t do things halfway. So it wasn’t up to me. But I’m glad you had a good time.”
Better. I appreciate the clarification, certainly. “It must’ve been wild growing up as the oldest of six.”
He huffs. “You have no idea. It still is wild, and we’re all adults.”
“I was an only child, so you’re right. That whole thing was so foreign to me. But it was nice.”
It’s quiet as we drive in the cozy dark of the farmland surrounding his parents’ place. We turn onto the main road, and I look out at all the stars. There are so many more visible here.
“What is a Dark Sky community?” I’ve meant to look it up but haven’t taken the time. I saw a display in city hall when I walked by but didn’t have time to stop.
“It means we manage our light output to maintain literal dark sky. There’s a certification and everything—we have rules about brightness and what time lights can go on, for how long, that kind of thing. It’s part minimizing light pollution, part increasing conservation efforts fornocturnal animals. People come visit then go camp out in the state park nearby because it’s a certified Dark Sky park. Basically, it means it’s very dark at night and with that comes a million more stars than you’ve ever seen.”
There’s a touch of pride in his voice. I don’t know why, but I like the idea of people trying to make sure their light pollution isn’t ruining someone else’s view. What a wildly considerate thing, to say the least.
And completely opposite from LA.
Much like many things here.
“Are you liking it here?” It’s not exactly forced, but something about it makes me think he feels awkward asking.
“I do. It’s really charming. Even with a microscopic library, I still found some bookish people, too.” It’s kind of amazing I’ve already met people with common interests.
He hums softly. It’s low and rumbly, and I do not acknowledge the appeal of it.
“Good.”
