“Holy shit,” I muttered under my breath. We came to a stop, and I cast a quick glance through the windshield as we approached—the trees were like a canopy above us, boxing us in, but the sky and land seemed to go on forever around us. “This is where you grew up?”
“What are you looking for?” Britta’s tone was playful as she followed my gaze into the trees.
“I grew up in the city, remember? It’s so . . . open out here. Aren’t there other houses?”
“Not for several miles. Are you scared of being in the country?”
“No. It’s just . . . quiet.” With the windows down, the only sounds were my tires crunching over gravel and the wind around us.
“It won’t be quiet once we get near my family.” Britta settled her hand over mine. “When you slow down to let me roll out, I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
She’d said we were going to her parents’ house, but a more fitting word would have been estate. We crested the hill, and the large house and expanse of land met us at the end of the gravel road, where the concrete took over. We were surrounded by trees and shrubs, and the path leading up to the house was lined with yellow and red flowers. The lawn ahead was manicured and a shade of green I’d thought only existed on TV. Several cars filled the driveway already, and kids zipped back and forth across an open green space.
“Wow,” I said, pulling to a stop. Three men stood around a firepit in the back of the house, arranging wood, and a huddle of people was at a table focused on a card game. It looked like a family on a sitcom. “This place is really nice.”
She nodded and opened the car door. “It is. My mom’s grandma left it to her. They sold most of the farmland a long time ago, but this is where I grew up.” She motioned to the house.
“Wow,” I repeated under my breath, grabbing her bag from the trunk and eyeing the lush surroundings. I had money now, but I had never grown out of feeling like an interloper who might muddy the carpet, even while we were still outside.
“Thanks again for driving me.” She looked up at me, sunlight warming her face. “Do you want some water or food or something before you head back?”
Before I could respond, the front door flew open and two kids sprinted down the steps, a blur of brown hair and bright colors. “Aunt Britta’s here!” they screamed before tackling her to the ground in two bear hugs. She laughed as one more small body leaped onto the pile.
“Give her a minute to breathe.” A voice similar to Britta’s but deeper rang out from the top of the steps. The older woman wore jeans and a plain gray T-shirt. “Kids!” she said more firmly, pulling the littlest one up while the other two peeled themselves away.
Britta huffed, blowing wayward curls from her face with a gleeful smile as she tried to return to a post-tackle upright state. When I offered my hand, our eyes met for a second. Something electric passed between us as she gripped my palm and regained her balance. “Thanks.”
“Now, my turn!” Her mom scooted past the kids and wrapped Britta in a hug with just as much enthusiasm, minus the tackling. “Honey, you look so good. You’re glowing!” Gripping Britta’s arms, her mom looked her up and down, and Britta’s cheeks colored.
“And you must be Del. I’m Danielle, Britta’s mom. Welcome!” She turned with her hand held out. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Nope. Not jealous at all of Del.
“Mom, Del actually got held up with work. This is my . . .”
I hung on her pause, curious what she’d say. She finished it with, “This is Wes. He was nice enough to drive me out when Del had to cancel because of a thing at work.”
I held out my hand. Her mom didn’t register any recognition when Britta said my name. That hurt more than it should. “Nice to meet you.”
A young boy in a bright orange T-shirt with a football tucked under his arm pulled on my shirt. “You’re big.”
“Um, yep.” I crouched down. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Jon. Are you Aunt Britta’s boyfriend?”
“Hi, Jon.” I sidestepped his actual question. “That’s a cool football. Do you play?”
“Not yet. Do you know how?”
“I do.” It was apparently my day to teach sports to kids, and Aaron’s comment that I would have been a good teacher came back to me.
“Can you show me how to throw a spiral pass? My friend Carter knows. Carter’s dad taught him, but Mom says my dad can’t because he’s useless with sports.”