Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
It almost hurts to hug her back because it feels like coming home.
To remember that as much as I blame Redhaven and its weirdness and dark secrets for so many awful things, I have people here who are family. It doesn’t matter if they’re not blood at all.
And Jensen, he makes me feel like the safest woman in the world with just a glance.
“Don’t tell me they hurt you?” Jensen pats my shoulder.
I smile at him and shake my head.
I’m half expecting to walk inside to steaming bowls of chili and cornbread, his usual hearty go-to back when he’d feed three kids who dragged themselves in from tromping around the woods all day.
All the best things in life happened with spicy soup and warm bread and friendly conversation around the table.
I think it hit so deep because I never knew my own father. To this day, I don’t have any good guesses who he could be.
Mom was always so tight-lipped about it, yet she must have loved him enough to have two children with him.
I only ever knew that our dad wasn’t the same as Ethan’s, a kind, sickly man who passed away from leukemia before Ros and I were born.
But Jensen Faircross always treated me like I was his own daughter, bridging the awkward father gap until I never even felt the absence.
Next thing I know, he’s hugging me as his wife steps aside. I’m caught up in a tangle of Faircrosses while Grant scoops up a laughing Nell.
I let the elder Faircrosses fuss over me a bit, hugging them back and saying a few words about my mother, before I pull back with a smile, gripping Margaret’s arms.
“I promise I’m okay,” I say. “It wasn’t a big deal. Just some confused old guy who rattled me a bit. I’m going to stay with Grant for a bit until he sorts out who it was and if they need help—or an assault charge, I guess. Don’t worry.”
Margaret pats my cheek, clucking her tongue with soft sympathy. “Such a shame to have you coming home like this! I’ve missed you dearly, Ophelia. You’re practically all your mother ever talks about over tea, you know. She’s so proud of you.”
I know.
And I can’t help the lump rising in my throat.
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and she can wake up and tell me herself,” I whisper.
Margaret’s eyes mist over for a sweet, sentimental second.
Jensen nods warmly again, silent yet completely understanding. It’s easy to see where some of Grant’s overprotective grizzly vibe comes from.
Then Margaret lets me go, dusting her hands together.
“Well then,” she says. “I’ll leave you to get settled in.” She turns a sharp eye on Grant. “I hope your guest room is livable, young man. You live too much like a bachelor.”
Grant clears his throat gruffly as he lifts Nell up on his shoulders. “Bachelor or not, I keep my house clean. I’m not going to have her staying in a damned pigsty, Ma. Jesus.”
“You watch that mouth,” she retorts. “And don’t forget Miss Ophelia is your guest. Not your housekeeper. Don’t expect her to go picking up after you, either.”
“I can clean up for my damned self!” he splutters, cheeks going red above his beard as he scowls at his mother.
“It’s cool. I’m really just staying over to help with Nell,” I interrupt, if only to give Grant a little mercy. “I heard you guys have been wearing yourself thin. If you both want to run off for a romantic getaway down the coast or something...” I smile teasingly. “Now’s a good time.”
“Oh, no, we’re too old for romance.” Margaret laughs. “You two, on the other hand...”
Oh, God.
Oh my God, oh my God.
I forgot this woman is a shameless matchmaker.
The fact that Grant is thirty-nine and still single can’t help much.
Also, I’m about to spontaneously combust on the spot.
Honestly, I think I want to be an ash pile just so I don’t have to stand here, trying not to die of sheer mortification.
When I was a kid, I always thought Margaret knew about my crush on Grant. She’d invite me over for odd things, especially after I turned eighteen. Always trying to get me and Grant hanging out alone, secretly hoping her son would make a move, I guess.
He never did.
I was just Butterfly back then.
Now, I know better.
I’ve accepted I’ll always just be Butterfly to him, that last annoying piece of Ethan he still can’t let go of.
Even living under the same roof, I’d bet my bottom dollar Grant won’t make a move at all.
Even so, I’m tongue-tied.
Frozen while Grant stands there blankly, stone-faced and silent, focusing on prying Nell’s fingers out of his hair like he didn’t hear a thing.
It’s his father who rescues me. Jensen smiles indulgently and shakes his head, slipping an arm around his wife’s waist.