Unstable (34 page)

“No sense hiding from it, I can still see you,” he says with a tiny chuckle. “Can you look at me? No reason not to. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Henley.”

I glance up at him, using my lashes as a shield, but when I see his warm smile I lift my head fully.

“Gatlin, I—”

“Stop, let me. Henley, my intent was never to be your worry, burden or a reason for you to hold back on what your heart’s telling you is right. I was here to
help
you, be your friend. I feel like I’ve done that.”

“You have,” I gush, bobbing my head. “You’ve helped me more than you know, in so many ways. You aren’t a burden, never think that, please. And this isn’t about Keaton and
you
. This is about Keaton and
me
. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does.” His smile brightens. “So tell me your plans.”

We sit and talk, and I fill him in on the decision that I haven’t even told Keaton yet. And like always, Gatlin offers reassuring, insightful comments and asks a few questions in all the right spots.

We stand and hug, a tear sliding down my cheek. “I’ll miss you. What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know yet, probably go someplace I’m needed.” He bumps my shoulder like a teasing buddy. “But don’t you worry, I might just check in on you sometimes. Knew it was coming. So I’m already packed. This will be the last time I see you, at least for a while.”

“Can I please pay you?”

“You already did. Found your way, your happy. All the payment I need. Goodbye, Henley. It’s been an honor.” He hugs me again and kisses my cheek. “Your mom would be very pleased, very proud of you.”

Tears start to well up again, but I’m able to choke out, “You walk away first. I don’t think I can. It's been an honor for me too, Gatlin. I’ll never forget you and all you’ve done for me.”

He does as I ask and begins to walk away, but stops to look over his shoulder. “You wrote a great ending, Henley. Go enjoy it.”

I DRIVE BACK TO
the house and putter around the kitchen, pretending to clean, still unsure exactly how I feel. But for some reason, I’m compelled to pull up “Lost Boy” by Ruth B. on my phone and play it on repeat.

Partly to say goodbye to the old me, mostly to say goodbye to Gatlin.

Then, I feel
him
, our connection undeniable. I turn, and there he is, Keaton, having made a silent entrance, just watching me. Leaning up against the wall, arms crossed.

“Hey,” I smile weakly.

“Hey back. Sad song,” he states matter-of-factly.

I turn it off and nod. “Yeah, kinda, depending on how you look at it.”

“I look at it like it’s a sad song. Why ya playing it?”

“Gatlin’s leaving. May already be gone actually.”

“And that upsets you?” Still no accusation or jealousy in his voice, simply a question.

“Yes and no. I just hope he’ll be okay, find that farm of his own he wants, someone to love. He’s a good friend, and I’ll miss him.”

“My girl,” he comes over and takes me in his arms, “sweetest heart, always putting others first. He’ll be fine, baby. I promise.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Anything I promise you, I’m sure about. Promise that too.” He grins and gives me a chaste kiss. “So don’t fly into panic mode on me, I’ll help you, but the Kings are coming for dinner tonight.”

“
Tonight?
I…don’t have anything ready. Little late to lecture you on the helpfulness of a
phone call
I guess. Okay.” I grip my hair, thinking fast. “Pork chops, saw ‘em in the freezer. Go get them, put them in a sink of hot water to thaw. I’ll start peeling potatoes. Jesus, Keaton! Biscuits, I have some of those too.”

“Good thing I said not to fly into panic mode,” he laughs as I run around frantically. “Really did the trick.”

“And look at me!” I take in my “farm” clothes and know damn good and well my hair is a disaster. “Would you rent from a hobo? I’m a mess.”

“You’re gorgeous. But if it’d make you feel better, go get fixed up. I can do your list in oh, about,” he scratches his chin, “ten minutes.”

“I’m gonna tan that ass,” I mumble as I leave the room.

“What was that?” he hollers after me.

“I said thank you!”
No time to argue with him right now.

I hustle through a shower and make myself somewhat presentable, then hurry back to the kitchen.

Keaton’s at the stove frying pork chops, the basket of biscuits is done, and the potatoes are boiling.

“Feel better?” he asks, keeping his back to me.

“Much, I’ll set the table. Unless you need help?”

“I got it all taken care of, as you can see, my pretty lil’ panic lady.”

I swear to…

“Hey, I do have a question though. Don’t you think it’d be more reassuring for the Kings if we were on the same page? As in, I know what the hell you decided and are gonna say to them?”

“Definitely,” I deadpan, traipsing into the country kitchen to set the table.

“Hen?”

“Yes, dear?” I stifle my giggle. This is fun.

“
Definitely
would suggest you agreed and were gonna tell me. But, you didn’t.”

I sashay back to him, swaying my hips as sassy as they’ll swing, and run a fingertip down his chest. “Don’t you think it would’ve been more reassuring if you’d have called and given me time to properly prepare for such an important dinner?” I bat my lashes.

“Ah, she’s got games.” He nuzzles his face in my neck. “Bring it on, baby. Now I want to call them and cancel, so we can play all night. Betcha I win.”

I pull back and smile. “Your pork chops need flipped. And your potatoes need to come off now or they’ll be too soft. You got tea made?”

“Fuck no.” He starts flipping the chops, which I’m scared to ask how he unthawed them so quickly, turning knobs and flustering himself right out of all that cockiness. “Mother-” he sucks on his hand, having burned it.

“Move aside, my pretty lil’ panicking macho man.” I pat his butt. “Run your hand under cold water then make the tea and set the table.
I
got this. As you can see.”

He just stares at me, eyes filled with mirth, the corner of his mouth slightly curled. “I love you, Henny.”

“I know you do, and I love you too. Which is why I’m saving your ass
and
forgiving you. But I’m still not telling you my decision. You’ll find out when they do.”

I concentrate on the food, no need to look back at him to know he’s smiling even wider now. Quick banter and bickering is natural to us—it’s always been our thing.

It’s just, now that we’re older and on the same page…it’s also foreplay.

BY SOME MIRACLE, EVERYTHING’S
actually ready when the King family arrives at the door with a fast, hard…never-ending knock.

I give Keaton a puzzled look and hurry to answer it, worried what all the commotion is about. For a split second, I wonder if it’s a crazed Merrick banging like that, so I check the peephole, seeing only two adults—neither one of them Merrick.

So I open it, and when I do, not only are my questions answered without a word, but my heart fills with a sudden, unexplainable sensation, to the point of overflowing. And I’m instantly in love. An immediate phenomenon beyond my conscious control.

There, looking up at me with the biggest pair of emerald green eyes I’ve ever seen, little balled-up fist still in the air ready to knock again, stands an angel. Well,
stands
is generous…she’s more bouncing in place. Too low to the ground to have been seen from the peephole, but the best of surprises.

“I’m Brooke King, and that’s my Mommy and Daddy,” she gushes, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at her parents, where they stand behind her, both wearing tight, apprehensive smiles. “We’re here to get our farm. Are you the farm lady? You don’t look sad. Mommy said the lady we’re coming to see might be sad, but you look real pretty and happy to me, so where’s the farm lady?”

“Brooke Marie King!” Her mom sternly cuts her off, then offers me an apologetic mix of a grimace and grin. “I’m so sorry, Henley. She’s…uh…a bit precocious. How are you? And thank you for having us.”

I don’t have a chance to respond to any part of what she said before Miss Priss, her sweet little head covered in red ringlets, precious chubby cheeks, and a mouth missing more teeth than not, is talking again.

“Henley? That’s your name? Then you
are
the farm lady! Hi, can I come in?”

I can’t contain my belly laugh, absolutely delighted by this tiny wonder, and step back, giving her the wide berth to waltz in that everything about her demands she be granted. “You certainly may. It’s so very nice to meet you, Brooke. And yes, I’m Henley, the farm lady.”

She walks inside as fast as she can without running, obviously mindful of manners she’s been taught, while her mother simply sighs and her father just shakes his head with a smile.

I motion for them to enter as well and Keaton joins us. After all the obligatory handshaking and a few more exchanged pleasantries, he shows them to the country kitchen then comes to help me carry in the food and drinks.

“Their daughter may very well be my new favorite person in the world,” I quietly tell him.

“Hey now,” he closes in behind me and wraps an arm around my waist, “she can’t just steal my title in five minutes,” he laughs good-naturedly.

“She’s a doll, Keaton. An absolute doll,” I whisper.

“You know,” he brushes his lips along my ear, “I can give you that. A daughter of our own.”

“That cute?” I laugh unbelievingly.

“Absofuckinglutely,” his adamancy gruff. “Baby, have you
seen
us?”

“Oh, here we go,” I laugh. “Stop while the food’s still hot. Here,” I hand him a platter, “take this in there.”

I grab the drinks and follow.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Bri starts to stand as soon as we rejoin them, “I need to go search down my daughter. Lord knows what she’s snooping through or breaking.”

“Um…” I stop her, shocked at myself – it just popped out of its own accord. “If it’s alright with you, I’d be happy to go find her. You sit, enjoy the meal.”

“I…if you’re sure. I don’t want her to be a bother,” Bri stammers.

“I’m sure, and no bother whatsoever. It’d be my pleasure,” I smile at her, not missing Keaton’s surprised look aimed at me out of my peripheral. “You all go ahead and start, Brooke and I will join you soon.”

And with that, I set out on my hunt, actually giddy with excitement. I just…simply can’t wait to see what she’s doing; to hear what she says next.

I’m not exactly
sneaking
through the house, but I’m not calling out her name either. My intention isn’t to catch her doing something wrong…in fact, it’s the polar opposite.

I want, more than almost anything, to wander upon her and watch her doing something
right
. Something childlike, innocent, purely for healthy curiosity and true enjoyment. Unencumbered by the woes of cynicism, judgment and expectation that always, inevitably, find you by the time you’re an adult.

From the moment I laid eyes on her, I felt an overpowering, fascinating bond with the little girl I currently seek. Perhaps it’s because she reminds me of myself at her age—curious and independent. Or more likely, it’s because she reminds me of everything I
wasn’t
for too long, I’m not now, nor will I ever be again.

They say youth is wasted on the young. Well
they
haven’t met Brooke.

After the longest game of hide and seek ever played, I finally find her…in the very last place I dare to look. And to look, I must push the door open further and enter, which I do—stunned when I realize there was a complete lack of hesitation on my part in doing so. Not a single, even slight, falter in my steps. Too preoccupied with finding her to get trapped inside my own head.