this, but now that I do, you don’t have to worry about me taking off. I’m here to stay. I’ll always pick you up after school, and I’ll make you your supper, and I’ll tuck you into bed, and I’ll probably always read the stories wrong, too. You can count on all of that.”
“You mess up the words,” Poppy whispered.
Billy chuckled and gathered her into his arms. She was as light and ferocious as a cat, and she inspired a protective surge inside him every time he looked at her. She was his.
“Do I?” he joked. “Well, I think my way is better.”
“It’s not,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Still—I’m the one guy you can trust to never tell you a lie, okay? And I’ll always pick you up after school. That’s a promise.”
Poppy was silent for a moment, and Billy stood up, lifting her with him. She was holding on to his shirt in one little fist. Neither of them wanted to let go of the other. He caught a mist of emotion in Grace’s eyes as she watched them.
Grace...beautiful and smart, and always several levels above the likes of him. He’d known that from the start. Her dad was a doctor; her mom was an accountant. She’d been raised to expect the best out of life, and Billy had known from the start that he was a far cry from what Grace deserved. Hell, Poppy deserved more than he could offer, too, but that was life. Sometimes you got the short end of the stick. Right now, his deepest wish was to maintain whatever respect Grace still had for him, and hopefully both Grace and Poppy could stay in the dark about his limitations.
“We should probably head out,” Billy said. “I think Poppy and I could use an ice cream.”
Poppy’s eyes lit up. This kid was easily bought, and that was a good thing. He needed every brownie point he could get.
“Thank you for coming by,” Grace said, and her gaze caught his for a moment.
“Grace...” He paused in the doorway. “It’s really good to see you again.”
It was more than “good”; it was a strange relief, like coming home in a whole new way. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed her over the last few years. She’d been an anchor in his life when he’d needed it most, and it looked like he was going to need her again. She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze, breaking the moment between them.
Maybe she hadn’t missed him...
“We’ll see you tomorrow, Poppy,” Grace said.
Billy dropped his cowboy hat back on his head, and he headed out into those familiar old Eagle’s Rest Elementary School hallways. Hopefully this school would do better by his daughter than it ever did by him.
GRACE PARKED HER car behind her mother’s SUV and turned off the engine. Coming back to Eagle’s Rest had been filled with reconnections, but meeting up with Billy was different. Billy was supposed to be safely out of the picture. She wanted to smooth layer after layer of life over the hole he’d left in her heart. He belonged to the past. Her mind was still spinning, and her emotions hadn’t caught up.
“Just over two weeks left...” she murmured. And while before that had meant relief at getting back to her apartment in the city again—the quiet, her own routines—now it was taking on a whole new urgency. It had felt good to see Billy again—too good. And she’d come too far to let herself slip into that place where she didn’t feel pretty enough or interesting enough to capture the heart of the one man she loved. Not again!
Grace got out of her car, slamming the door behind her, and headed toward the side door. Someone had thrown down some salt, but the driveway and sidewalk were still slick. She could smell something cooking as she opened the door...but it wasn’t the same, familiar smell of cooking from her childhood. This was different, and had been ever since her mother had retired.
“You’re home,” her mother said as Grace came inside and stepped out of her boots.
Connie Beverly was a short, round woman with eyes that crinkled up and sparkled when she smiled. She wore a loose sweater over a pair of leggings, an apron tied around her ample waist and a pair of slippers. She stood by the counter with a potato masher held aloft.
“Smell this,” her mother demanded. “Seriously. Smell it.”
“I can smell it,” Grace chuckled, slipping off her coat. “That’s not mashed potatoes.”
“You’re just being a cynic now!” Connie retorted, turning back to the bowl. “It’s almost like mashed potatoes.”
Grace winced. Her mother had been saying for years that she didn’t lose weight because she worked full-time and she was too busy to bother. But this year, she’d retired and sworn that she would drop the extra weight.
Grace went over to the counter and looked down into the bowl.
“Mom, cauliflower isn’t a carb,” she said.
“That’s the point. You smash the cauliflower up to look like mashed potatoes, and you don’t miss the extra calories.”
“It looks like sadness to me.” And it smelled like boiled cauliflower.
“It looks like health and longevity.” Connie smiled in satisfaction and turned back to her cautious mashing. “You should give this a try, Gracie. Our genes being what they are—”
“Mom, please...”
It was an old conversation. They came from a long line of “big-boned” women who never had any trouble finding husbands, and whose love language was cooking. Grace had never been thin, and neither had her mom. It was easy enough to love herself, but a little harder to compete with the likes of Tracy. There were times she wished she could be naturally slender.
“You’re turning thirty next week,” her mother reminded her.
“I know,” Grace replied with a grin. “And I’ll turn thirty with real carbs, thank you very much.”
“Well... I’ll agree to that,” her mother replied. “What’s birthday cake if it isn’t sinful, right? So, how was your day?”
“Good,” Grace replied, and she flicked the switch on the electric kettle. “Actually, this afternoon, I saw Billy Austin.”
“Billy Austin?” Carol turned from the sodden cauliflower and frowned. “He’s back in town? Did you see Tracy?”
“Tracy wasn’t with him. They broke up.”
“Ah.” Her mother’s eyebrows climbed, and then she nodded. “What’s he doing back in Eagle’s Rest?”
“He found out he had a daughter, and the mother had some modeling plans in Germany, so she dumped the little girl on his doorstep. Tracy took a big step back, and he came home to raise his daughter.”
“Billy’s a dad!” Connie headed to the fridge and pulled open the door, staring into its depths. “How old is his daughter?”
“Four.”
“Wait—the mother is a model? She’s not from Eagle’s Rest, then, is she?”
Grace had done the same math. “No, it was that summer he spent working a ranch in the foothills. Remember that?”
“I remember the two of you missed each other more than you’d admit,” her mother quipped.
“Apparently he wasn’t quite so lonely,” Grace replied with a wry smile, pushing back a sense of betrayal she had no right to. They’d been friends—nothing more. Her heart in knots hadn’t been his fault.
“You were always too good for him,” Connie said. “You know that. I told you so from the start.”