Hope
I make dinner again. It’s easy to cook for Luna, she’s not picky and she keeps Bellamy entertained while I chop vegetables. They have an excess of green onions, which reminds me of ramen I used to devour when I was a teenager, so I find some pasta in the pantry and make a chicken noodle stir-fry with green onions and red peppers.
Since Zane and Ridge are nowhere to be seen, I leave leftovers in the fridge, and Luna promises that’s fine.
After dinner, we repeat the glorious bath routine from the night before, and Bellamy passes right out. All this time in the fresh air, racing around while we work, is good for her.
Then I have a bath for myself, and when I finish, I get to put on clean—albeit borrowed—PJs. The flannel pants fit all right. They’re probably only one size bigger than I would usually wear, so I just roll the waistband once. The rodeo t-shirt I put on is more comically oversized, but it feels nice and smells even better, like a cold mountain stream—a good omen for what our clothes might smell like once they've had a proper wash.
I should take our dirty clothes downstairs and put them in the wash, but the bed calls to me. I snuggle up around my daughter and let myself drift off.
I don’t know how long I’ve napped for when I wake with a jolt.
Not from a nightmare, I don’t think.
I press my hand to my belly, worried I’m going to throw up, but that’s not it, either.
The laundry.
Crap.
Forcing myself out of bed, I gather up our small collection of dirty clothes. My leggings and shorts, the tank top and t-shirt and peasant blouse I wore out of the compound. The layers I put on Bellamy. Everything except my favourite white linen skirt, because I’ll want to wash that by hand.
With a glance back at her, sound asleep in the bed, I leave the door open so I can hear if she cries, and I head down the stairs silently.
The house is quiet and dark, but there’s a warm glow coming from the room right next to the laundry. The library, Luna said.
After I put a load of wash on, I glance through the open doorway.
It’s not Luna bent over a desk.
My cheeks blaze with an uncomfortable heat as I catch sight of Zane.
Even though I haven’t moved, he lifts his head and looks right at me.
“Hope,” he says, half-rising. His face goes tight and his gaze locks on my face.
I jump backward. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t— It’s fine.” Tension tugs at his features for a moment, but then he gestures for me to come into the room, and after a beat, he slowly sits again. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Just, um, washing some laundry.”
“Ah.” He gives me an unexpected, crooked smile that softens his face in a way that makes me swallow hard. Maybe he’s gotten over being irritated with my arrival on the ranch. “I’ve gottengood at tuning out noises. Hey, thank you for making dinner. It was really good.”
His compliment is sincere enough that it soothes the part of me that has been worried since yesterday about his reaction when I showed up.
“Oh, you’re welcome.” I wrap my arms around my torso. If the way to make him happy as a boss is food, I can press that button again and again. “If you have any requests for tomorrow, just let your mom know.”
“You don’t have to cook for us every night.”
“I don’t mind. It’s good to make myself busy.”
“Speaking of work… I have a phone for you.” Standing up, he grabs a small smartphone off the desk. “I was going to leave it in the kitchen for you to find in the morning. It’s just on ranch WiFi, it doesn’t have a proper phone number, but you can text Luna from it.”
I stare at the device in his outstretched hand.
The internet has no secrets.
