Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(15)
Just my luck, my best friend had to fall in love and have a baby with an honorary Wells brother, then move to this ranch. A place filled with memories far beyond my high school boyfriend. His parents and siblings were a second family to me, and this ranch was home. My family’s never been the tight-knit kind you see on sitcoms, but the Wells family was. And I adored them.
Denver and I traipsed over every inch of their land, explored every nook in every outbuilding, kissed on the same stupid porch Cassidy and the other girls are sitting on. Now for the two months since moving back, I’ve been sneaking on and off the property to visit my baby niece almost daily. Unable to take a full breath from the moment my car rumbles across the cattle guard at the end of the driveway.
I step out into the warm spring air. It’s lightly perfumed by early floral buds, and my best friend has Hazel tucked against her chest, swaying gently in an old wooden rocking chair. Denver’s two sisters-in-law, Cecily and Kate, sit stretched out on the front steps with steaming mugs in their hands. I don’t know Cecily well yet, but I know if it were any later than eleven o’clock, Kate would be drinking something a lot stronger than coffee.
“Morning!” Kate’s daughter, Odessa, calls from where she’s sitting in a pile of topsoil with her little brother, Rhett. They’re playing with toy excavators and bulldozers, covered in dirt from head to toe.
“Hey, kiddos.” I steal glances in their direction for the entire walk up the footpath. Wondering how so much time has passed that Kate and Jackson—who were in full denial about being a couple back when I left Wells Canyon—have two children now. It’s an uncanny reminder of how much time has passed.
Kate waves as I approach the house. “Perfect timing—a fresh pot just finished brewing.”
“Thanks. I need the caffeine to function,” I say, climbing the front porch stairs. “I have to head to the clinic pretty soon, and I’m getting a migraine from thinking about Dr. Brickham’s outdated filing system. I’ve been meaning to catalog it for weeks, but organizing is not my thing.”
“I keep telling you to let me come help.” Cass shakes her head in annoyance.
“With all the free time you have?”
“I can make the time.”
“Babe, don’t worry about it. I’m just complaining for the sake of complaining.” I softly shut the screen door behind me, careful not to wake the baby.
It’s surreal to be back in this house, and the strange tightening in my stomach isn’t helped by the fact that the kitchen is the only thing that’s changed over the past decade. What used to be firmly nineties style is now updated with modern wood cabinetry and quartz countertops. Otherwise, the same photos hang on the wall—with a few additions, of course. The same stair banister we’d grip to round the corner and fly up the stairs to the boys’ rooms when Denver and I were running away from his brothers—typically after pranking them. I can’t help but wonder how similar upstairs is. Obviously, the bedrooms have changed somewhat. Did they sand and stain the floors, or are there still scuffs from when Denny and I danced for hours?
My chest seizes, breathing choked with wistful nostalgia. If things had played out differently years ago, Denver and I could be the ones living in this house. It could be our kids playing outside. Our ranch, home, family.
“You okay, honey?” Beryl, the head of the ranch’s kitchen, pokes her head out from the pantry with a lilting smile.
“Oh, yeah.” My voice comes out thick with emotion, but I smile back and continue beyond the kitchen entryway to pour a cup of coffee. She watches me, not saying anything aloud because her expression does the job just fine.
I clear my throat. “Sometimes it’s weird being back here. It’s all so different and yet very much the same.”
“Mmmm, yes. I imagine so. We always expect time will change things, but sometimes that’s not the case.”
I slowly stir the two sugar cubes, allowing them time to dissolve before adding creamer.
God, does this woman always stare into your soul like this?
“So, uh…need any help in here?” I ask.
“Oh, no, honey. Go sit with the girls.”
I nod and turn to head back outside. Though there’s a small bit of reprieve when I step out of the house filled with equal parts happiness and pain, the porch isn’t a whole lot better. I doubt there’s anywhere on this property that doesn’t hold memories.
I sink into the chair next to Cass with a short sigh. “How’s our little Hazelnut doing today?”
“She just ate, and I think she’s saving up a big poop for Auntie B.” Cass stands and delicately lowers the sleeping newborn into my arms. I tuck the thick blanket around her tiny body—though it’s a warm day for late April, this elevation still has a good nip in the air, and her pink sleeper isn’t quite warm enough. The fresh, cool air helps Hazel sleep like a rock, though.
“Perfect. I can’t wait to get back at her one day for saving every bowel movement for when I babysit.” Shifting in the chair to get comfortable, I motion my head toward the cabins in the distance. “Go. Take your shower and do your leatherworking. I got her.”
After one last glance at her sleeping daughter, she heads off to have coveted alone time. This is our routine, and I cherish every second of it, even if some days I feel like I’m the exhausted new mother with everything I have going on. The clinic, my parents, Cassidy and Hazel, and toss in overwhelming anxiety around seeing Denver—I’m run ragged and always feeling behind the eight ball.