“It’s okay,” Avery said, giggling. “You can be happy about it.”
“Yay!” Macy cried out as she did a little bounce, causing them both to laugh.
The elevator stopped and both women stepped out into the parking garage.
“Look, Macy, I know it must be hard for you to keep...trying...with me, and—” Avery swallowed over the lump developing in her throat, startled by the sudden onslaught of emotion “—I want you to know I notice how hard you’ve been trying to make me feel better.” She closed her eyes, working to organize her thoughts around the most important thing she needed to get across. “I mean to say that I’m thankful for you. For all that you and Tommy do for me, really. But especially you.”
Macy stopped and turned toward Avery, her eyes filling as she reached out and wrapped her sister-in-law in a hug, squeezing hard.
When she let go, they walked to the car in silence, both smiling. It felt good to say yes to something, even something as small as a pedicure with a special family member—and friend—who’d remained close, no matter how hard Avery unintentionally pushed her away. She thought of that night with Isaac, how she’d allowed him to feed and care for her, despite feeling afraid of what conclusions he might draw about the state of her mental health. It was almost as though that choice—the choice to let someone new in, despite the difficulty it took to do so—was an opening for other opportunities that she’d been missing out on for so long.
Besides, she thought, grinning to herself, she could use some color on her toes. She decided then that she would pick something bright, something that would make her feel uplifted when she looked down at her feet. Something that maybe Isaac might notice and like.
As Macy pulled her car out into the sunshine, a small spark of life lit up somewhere deep inside the darkest place in Avery’s heart.
What had seemed like a good idea earlier that morning was really just a sack of zucchini in the light of day.
Isaac could have kicked his own ass for not coming up with a better ruse for stopping by to check on Avery Abbott after the night they’d spent in each other’s company. A week had passed since that strange night—the slowest week of his life. He’d only been able to go through the motions during that time, each task permeated with thoughts of a woman unlike any other he’d ever met.
But still...zucchini? Anyone would be able to see through his excuse. The vegetable was insanely easy to grow, even in a dry-as-a-bone Texas summer like the one they were having—they were so good at growing that anyone within a hundred miles of Peach Leaf who wanted the vegetables already had enough to feed an army. People could only stand so many salads and breads and desserts with the stuff snuck in. But, for some knuckleheaded reason, Isaac had decided that bringing a bag of the green things would pass as a decent excuse to visit his neighbor’s farm.
Yes, that’s correct, he thought. I’m bringing a crap ton of zucchini...to a farm. He shook his head. Hell, it might have come from that very farm, he noted with a sinking sensation in his belly.
With so many well-meaning locals—overwhelmingly widows and grannies...and widowed grannies—dropping off food at his place on a regular basis, he lost track of its origins. He didn’t hold it against all the sweet gals, but once in a while, it was enough to make him consider moving to Austin, where a thirtysomething bachelor wasn’t likely to turn so many heads.
He pulled his four-wheeler into Tommy and Macy’s drive, careful to watch out for free-range chickens and goats. He got out and Jane jumped down from her perch on the seat in front of him, hightailing it up the porch steps. As the front door swung open, the scent of something sweet cooking wafted out into the already warm air.
“Hey, Janie girl,” Tommy said, scratching the dog between her ears before she invited herself into the house. “Hey, bud,” he said, turning to Isaac and heading down the steps, cup of coffee in hand.
“Mornin’, Tom,” Isaac said, returning the greeting as he reached into the seat compartment to pull out the embarrassing sack of vegetables.
Tommy’s eyebrows rose up so far they almost met the brim of his straw Stetson. When Isaac just stood there, holding the offending sack away from him like a baby with a dirty diaper, realization crossed Tommy’s features and he started to slowly back away, holding up a hand. “Aw, no way, man. Macy’s got so many of those damn things. If she strung all the little bastards together, they’d reach the moon and back.”
Isaac cursed and swung the bag over his shoulder, feeling more and more like a complete idiot.
“What in the world were you thinking bringing those things here?” Tommy continued, keeping his distance. “You lost your ever-lovin’ mind, my friend?” He took a long sip of his coffee, clearly waiting for a response.
The two men had been good friends ever since Isaac inherited his grandma’s property and moved in to the old ranch house. They were living proof that opposites really do attract. Isaac, who wasn’t usually keen on too much chatter, had taken an instant liking to his neighbor, despite the fact that the man never shut his mouth and could carry on a conversation with just about anybody or anything. His easygoing habit of yakking made Isaac comfortable, mostly because he didn’t have to say much for them to get along just fine, and, well, Tommy was just so damn nice. Also, it was obvious that the man doted on his family, as if Macy had hung the moon, and their two little ones, all the stars in the sky.
It was exactly the kind of family Isaac had always pictured having himself one day. If only he could find the right girl. Someone who wouldn’t mind his quiet nature and his shyness around new people. Someone, maybe, kind of like Avery Abbott—his true reason for dropping by.
“Oh, just forget about those things and come on in. Macy’s got breakfast on. But, if you think it’s just flour, milk and sugar in those waffles, guess again. It’s like I said before, that girl has stuffed those green devils into everything we’ve eaten in the past month because she hates to waste them, and, I’m telling you, at least fifty more popped up in her garden overnight.”
Isaac smiled at his friend’s happy chatter.
“Don’t be surprised if next time you stop by, I’ve turned into one of ’em.” Tommy stopped suddenly at the top of the steps. “What’d you say you dropped by for, again?” He lifted up his white hat and scratched his forehead. “Not that you need a reason. Just want to make sure you don’t leave here empty-handed if you were needing something—”
“Tom?” Isaac said quietly, seeking a brief break in his friend’s out-loud thinking.
“—Macy would never let me hear the end of it if—”
“Tom!”
He finally turned around, a sleepy smile on his face. Isaac had never known his friend to wear any other expression.
“What’s on your mind, bud?”
Now that he had Tom’s attention, Isaac hesitated, unsure what can of worms he might risk opening if he answered the question truthfully.
He knew Tom was protective of Avery beyond what would be expected of a brother, and he could understand why. From what he’d seen the other night, what folks said about her time in service, and from the way she seemed to socialize far less than other locals, he could guess that she’d come back from war bearing a few scars—the kind you couldn’t see with a good pair of eyes.
The jumpiness he’d witnessed in her that night and her disorientation in an area she was familiar with were textbook post-trauma symptoms. He recognized them from the vets he trained service dogs for, and from—the memory still ached in a part of Isaac’s heart that he knew would never heal—from his brother. Which was why he’d avoided visiting the farm and his friends the past few months since he’d heard that Avery moved in. Working with PTSD victims