Page 92 of Dandelions and Smoke

“I’m not sure I’m as strong as a dandelion, baby.” She pauses. “But you are,” she says, kissing my head before we begin our next adventure.

That adventure would be followed by the next until, eventually, all I wanted was a place that felt like home. As I grew up, her drinking became worse, and she stopped pretending with me. She stopped being someone I recognized until all that was left of her was what the bottle and all the things I never knew she carried alone turned her into.

Sitting in one of the fields on the ranch, surrounded by colorful wildflowers and blooming dandelions like I was that day so long ago, I can’t help but reflect on everything, leaving me feeling fragile and raw. My fingers absentmindedly trail up and down my arm, soothing me as they trace the dandelion tattoo there.

I’m no longer that little girl, but she still lives as a part of me, surviving despite everything that’s tried to break me. Everything feels too tight, my own skin too constricting, as my frustration and pain claw their way to the surface. I have a home now, two, filled with friends and family. It should be enough, but now that I’ve fallen in love with Chief, I know that no matter where I go in this life, my heart will always be with him.

The sun hides behind the afternoon clouds as they roll in with the spring breeze, hinting at an afternoon shower. The wind carries all the sweet scents of the flowers, and for a second, my heart sinks as my first thought is that it’s missing the fresh smell of coffee for it to feel like home. I’m sure by now Ainsley is driving Tris crazy with repotting the plants that have outgrown their quarters and arranging all of the new spring flowers.

I can practically see Tris staring down at her dirt-covered hands with that horrified expression of hers, while Ainsley smiles, reminding her it isn’t that bad and she’s doing a great job. Of course, if I were there, I’d be the one accidentally creating chaos, tracking dirt everywhere, getting it on more than just Tris’s hands, and intentionally matching the ugliest pots with the most questionable flowers to see how long it would take before Ainsley quietly stepped in and redid everything herself.

Comforted by this thought, though bittersweet, I stand, wiping myself off but not before plucking a dandelion to take with me. I’m no closer to feeling better than when I came out here for some fresh air. Lucas has been away at a hockey game and returns home today, leaving Lettie and me alone for the last few days.

To her credit, she’s tried to get me to open up about everything only half a dozen times, but it’s pretty easy to escape a woman, even as persistent as Lettie, when she’s restricted to a bed. Any day now, baby Cam is going to make his appearance, and I’m going to have to decide if my move out here is permanent, or if I can handle going back to Turtle Bay without allowing myself to be with the man I love so that he and his son can have the life they deserve.

By the time I make it to the main house and climb the steps, the sky has transformed from a bright blue to a beautiful lavender gray.

“Looks like we’re going to get a nice rainstorm.”

I almost jump clear off the steps but catch myself on the railing.

A strangled sound leaves my throat. “Lettie!”

My hand comes up, pressing the dandelion close as I take a slow, steadying breath, willing my heartbeat to slow as I reach the top of the porch.

Lettie tries to hide the way her lips are twitching up but does a pitiful job of pretending like she didn’t find that funny.

“What’s that?” she asks, not even trying to hide her laughter now.

“What’s—?” I follow her gaze to see she’s talking about the dandelion. Not wanting to get into all the reasons why these little not-flowers mean so much to me, I do what I’m good at and deflect.

“You should be in bed,” I point out.

She shrugs, like it’s no big deal as she sits, swaying on the porch swing. “You should be in Turtle Bay, but I guess we’re both lost.”

“I’m not lost,” I answer her a little too quickly, brows pinching together when she smirks again.

“So you’re what, then? Running away?” she persists, eyebrow raising.

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from her and lean against the porch post. Twirling the dandelion between my fingers, I release a long breath.

“I don’t know,” I blurt out. “Maybe.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t always know how to ask for help either. I didn’t even know how to let someone walk beside me. If I’m being honest, I never thought it was possible to have all of this.” She waves her hands around until they settle on her belly.

“So what changed?” I ask her, not understanding how both versions, the one she is describing and the one I’m looking at now, can be true.

“I stopped running away from the people who loved me without conditions, or having to become less of myself. I allowed myself to be vulnerable with the ones who accepted me for exactly who I am, and I trusted the love that Lucas and I share to get us through anything we faced together.”

“Golly, is that all?” I ask with a quiet snort, my words dripping in sarcasm while a heaviness settles over me. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Sometimes it is. Sometimes you get lucky, and the people you love love you back so fiercely that, even when you’re too stubborn to get out of your own way, they show up, refusing to let go.”

A single tear spills over my lashes as I look at the ground before the floodgates open.

“I thought that’s what I’d found, but now I’m not so sure. How would I even explain the past month of pushing them all away? Because that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.” My voice trembles, and I swallow hard. “It’s not a lie that I’m here for you and Lucas, that I want to be here for Cam,” I add quickly.

“We know, Rory,” she says, reassuring me before the panic and overthinking can set in. “We don’t doubt that for a second.”