I glance at Lucy over Quinn’s head.
Lucy is already laughing.“That sounds like something I’d say.”
Quinn nods solemnly.“Because ya did, mama.”
I set her down and hold out my hand toward Lucy.She takes it without hesitation when she reaches the porch steps, and that easy trust still hits me every single time.
“You look nervous,” she says quietly.
“I’m not.”
She raises a brow.I look at Quinn.Then back at Lucy.
“Okay, a little.I hope you like the surprise”
That smile she gives me—soft, amused, knowing—should be illegal.“Well now I’m excited.”
“Good.”
I squeeze her hand once, then let it go and nod toward the yard.
“Come on.”
Quinn is already trying to peek around me.“Is it a trampoline?”
“No.”
“A horse?”
“No.”
“A goat?”
“Still no goats.”
She sighs dramatically.“This keeps getting worse.”
Lucy laughs, and I feel the sound of it all the way in my chest.
I lead them through the house first, not because that was the plan, but because some part of me wants to watch Lucy take this place in with fresh eyes before we get to the big thing.
She’s been here, obviously.
A dozen times over the last three months.
Dinner.Movie nights.Falling asleep with Quinn on the couch while I carried them both to bed, one after the other, because apparently this is my life now and I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
But today feels different.Today she’s seeing it with purpose.Not just as a place I live.
As something I’m showing her.As something I’m asking her to imagine with me.Her gaze moves across the living room, the wide kitchen, the hall that leads toward the spare bedrooms.
One of those rooms already has a little bed in it.Yellow comforter.Bookshelf.A basket of stuffed animals Looney claimed was “too many damn rabbits” when he helped me haul it in.
Lucy notices the half-open door and glances at me.“Tucker.”
“Later,” I counter hoping she can be patient with me.
Her eyes widen slightly.But she doesn’t push.That trust again.
