Maybe I’m more like my parents than I care to admit.
But settling down here? Could I learn to push past the anxiety of staying in one place and learn to love the steadiness?
Colten and I aren’t exclusive; at least, we haven’t had that conversation despite how much we’ve fucked. I’ve spent several nights in his bed, and every morning, I wake up to his handsome face next to me. Yet, there are two other men in this house with whom I have had physical relations with. They could very much be affected by a decision like that if I only choose one of them.
Shit. I am in over my head.
I sniffle, and she fills the void with her motherly tone when I don’t say anything because I don’t have a good excuse. “Well, if you’re happy, we’re happy. So, you said you followed a job? Oh—your dad is here now!”
“Hey, sweetheart! We miss you,” my father says, nearly breaking me completely.
God, why did I ever think that they didn’t care?
I hear it in their joyful voices, more so now than I ever did, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of Lindenvale Hill.
Or they’re just having a blast in Costa Rica.
I shake my head at myself, willing away the thought.
What this fragile family has gone through is incomparable to my relationship with my parents. I may be a world away from mine, but at this moment, I feel closer to them somehow.
“I miss you too. And yeah, Mom, I’m a nanny for a family in Cedar Creek Cove.”
“A nanny?” my dad says, surprised. “I thought you were teaching?”
“She moved to Washington,” my mom informs him, her voice farther away from the phone as she catches him up.
“Do you like the family?” he asks.
The smile that transforms my lips is instant. “Yeah. I really do. They own Lindenvale Hill Orchard.”
With my mom’s response, I can practically sense her eyes bugging out of her head. “Really?”
“Wait, isn’t that the family where the father was charged with the murder of the mother?” my dad cuts in.
“I’m surprised you know about it,” I say.
“We might travel a lot, but we don’t live under a rock, sweetheart.” My mom chuckles.
My dad’s warning is clear. “Just be careful.”
For the next half hour, they tell me about their recent travels, and I tell them about Cedar Creek and the Lindenvale kids. When I tell them how much I’m making nannying for them, the line goes silent, and I think they’ve stopped breathing.
My mom takes a deep breath. “No wonder you aren’t teaching! Well, we are very happy for you.”
“We need to leave to make our dinner reservation, but please don’t take as long to call us next time, okay?” My heart sinks into my stomach like a boulder at my dad’s comment.
That’s what they always say.
Because I’m always the one to reach out.
The one to initiate a phone call or a text.
Never them.
I nod, letting the first tear fall free from the corner of my eye. “Okay.”
“We love you, Taryn,” my mom declares. She already sounds distant from the phone.
