Maybe I thought he'd come to the house if he saw the lights still on. Maybe I thought he'd text me or call. Or anything. Not that he did. Or that I had reason to expect him to. He doesn't any other time.
Sure, we communicate way more now than we ever did, but we still manage to come and go and live our lives individually while sharing the same driveway.
I guess after everything that happened, all the admissions we made in the wake of our kiss the week before, I thought maybe things would be different now.
Maybe I want them to be.
Fine, so the thought also freaks me the fuck out. Everything is riding on us working together. On getting along. And we've been in such a good place these last few months. Is it reckless to considerrocking that boat? Selfish to want to tempt fate when it's still so fragile?
Maybe the best course of action is to stick to the original plan. Stay the course. Finish out the year we agreed to. And if things are stable, the business secure and the kids' home safe, maybe then there could be a chance to explore what all these tangled feelings really mean.
"How much longer?" Gavin asks for the third time in the last seven minutes.
I smile, pointing at the timer set on the oven. "Eighteen more minutes."
"Are you sure? I can smell cinnamon." He lifts his little nose and sniffs. He's not wrong, the scent of baking cinnamon rolls is wafting deliciously through the entire kitchen already. "Maybe they're done now."
"I'm pretty sure," I confirm and he leaves the kitchen again with a disappointed sigh.
He checks in another nine times before I can finally pull the pan from the oven. I serve each of the kids a large bun topped with a heavy dollop of homemade cream cheese frosting, and usher them into the living room to enjoy their cozy breakfast in front of the electric fireplace. It's the first morning the house has been chilly enough to turn it on, and I already love it. The scent of cinnamon in the air, along with a soft blanket, and I'm all ready for pumpkin spice everything.
I'm just finished getting the kids settled when there's a knock at the door, followed by Cas's deep voice, "Good morning, Serendipity folks."
"Good morning, Cas," both kids chime back as Wyatt ducks in under his outstretched arm, kicking off his boots and peeling out of his coat as he hurries to join the other two under the blanket.
"Wy," Cas tries to rein him in again, but I wave off the effort.
"He's fine. You know I want him to feel at home here." Cas is a great dad. While I have no doubt he keeps life feeling like an endless camping adventure for Wyatt while they’re staying in the living quarters of his horse trailer until their place is ready, it doesn't mean he can't enjoy a few homey comforts as well when he comes over. And that goes for Cas too. "I made cinnamon rolls. They're fresh out of the oven."
"Man, we have good timing," he jokes.
"You have no idea," I tease. "Come on," I gesture for him to follow me into the kitchen. "I'll fix you two plates and then you can hang with the kids while I take one out to Jovi."
"I see what you're doing there," he drawls. "Roping me in to babysit with baked goods."
"Does that not work for you?"
"Oh, no, it does." He nods. "For future reference, sugar cookies and red velvet cake will also do the trick." He winks to let me know he's teasing, but I make a mental note of his preferences all the same. Cas let slip he has a birthday coming up in two months, and I don't let those slide by without a cake and candle. Everyone deserves cake and a wish on their birthday.
I slide two plates his way, then grab the third and make my way to the coffee maker. "Pot's fresh too," I offer as I fix a cup for Jovi. He's probably already had plenty, but I can't see serving a breakfast pastry without coffee. "Thanks, Cas," I say, pressing my hip into the handle to push open the back door.
With both hands full, Cas blows me a kiss before he turns and departs the kitchen as well.
Second guessing myself the entire way to the barn, it’s a struggle to keep putting one foot in front of the other and not bolt back to the house.
On the one hand, it means nothing. It's breakfast. The same breakfast I just offered to Cas and Wyatt as well. So why wouldn't I share with Jovi too? Of course I would.
On the other hand, while I've been not so subtlety feeding him for months, this is the first time I intend to deliver said food in person at the time of preparation. Because a cinnamon roll is best fresh out of the oven. And all he has out here is a microwave. And that would ruin the whole experience.
So, it's breakfast. No big deal.
Except my heart is pounding like a freight train trying to climb a mountain when I step foot inside the barn.
It's quiet in here. Calm. The horses are snorting softly here and there, the sound of their teeth working over their morning hay the main soundtrack playing in here.
I never used to think too much about horses or the sounds they made, but I've had time to discover how much I've been missing out on.
This quiet symphony right here, the way it hums of peace and contentedness, has become one of my favorite sounds. The morning birdsong in the background the perfect accompaniment. The only noise out of place is a rhythmic thudding coming from above.
