"I love you," he said.
She looked up at him. “You what?”
“I think you heard me.”
“I suppose I did.” She stuck her finger in her ear. “But you kind of just blurted it out like you say good morning.”
“I should’ve said I love you when we woke up, but someone distracted me.” He arched a brow. “Are you gonna leave me hanging? Or do you have a response?”
"I love you, too." She reached up ran her fingers through his hair. "Don't let your father go hungry. Don't be too hard on him. And don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
"You sound like my mother."
"She was a smart woman, and she raised a really good son.” She stepped off the porch.
He watched her cross the bridge. Dolly surfaced as she passed, rolled once, unhurried and enormous, and bellowed low at the morning sky. Dove kept walking without breaking stride, but shoulders went up around her ears, and he laughed.
He stood there until her truck disappeared down the drive and the dust settled back onto the road.
“She’s a good woman,” his father said.
Trent jumped. “Jesus, you scared me.” He turned and went through the door his father held open. “Dove’s the best.”
“Slade couldn’t ever shut up about her. I used to get jealous because he’d come to see me, and all I’d hear was Dove this, and Dove that, and I had no idea what you were doing. Every once in a while, Slade would get me a report, but it wasn’t the same.”
“I spent twenty years watching my friends with their dads and being angry at everyone that mine had been taken away.”
“I’m sorry that?—”
Trent held up his hand. “Yesterday, when I saw you, I was flooded with every emotion possible. Part of me wanted to throttle you for leaving me without a dad and honestly, I still do. But I didn’t consider what the last twenty years might have been like for you.” He strolled across the kitchen and held up the coffee pot.
His father nodded.
Trent refilled both mugs and sat back down across from his dad, and for a few minutes neither of them said anything. Just two men at a kitchen table with the Florida wilderness outside the window. There was more to say—there were years of it, piled up like a traffic jam—but none of it was urgent right now, and they both seemed to understand that.
“Dove’s good for you," Jack said.
"I know."
“In some ways, she reminds me of your mother."
“That’s what Fallon says.”
"It's true." His father wrapped his hands around the mug. "Your mother never once backed down from a hard thing. She just faced it and figured out what to do next." He glanced toward the driveway. "That girl's the same way."
Trent opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of gravel crunching under rubber caught his attention.
“Are you expecting someone?” his dad asked.
“Nope.” Trent went to the window.
A black SUV, one he didn't recognize, pulled down his driveway like it had every right to be there.
He had his phone out before the vehicle stopped. He texted Dove and Buddy.
Trent: Vehicle coming down the drive. Don't recognize it.
Dove: Turning around. On my way.
