Page 32 of Unstoppable Love

“I’m good, Dad. Honest. This is where I want to be, and once I can find my own place, you and Mom can go back to loving the empty nester life.”

He huffed and rattled his glass and set it down without taking a sip. “Soon as I can get Isaiah to figure out how to work his own stove and oven, I’ll be a happy man. Know it’s been a long day for you, Ava, but is there any chance you’re willing to go somewhere with your old man? Won’t take long.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you.”

My dad grinned. And man, I loved him. When I called my parents to tell them Lydia and I were headed to Florida, they freaked out. But they settled quickly when I told them I needed a break, time away to get my head on straight and figure some things out. Since then, they’d not only Venmo’d me an unreasonable amount of money to help fund the trip, but they’d supported every step I took. And when I’d called from Florida to ask if I could move home for a bit, they’d said yes without hesitation.

Still, there was worry in their tone. I couldn’t blame them for that.

“All right. Let me go tell your mom we’re heading out, and then we’ll take off. We’ll take Judy.”

Judy. My mom’s red truck.

“I’ll get her started.”

Dad went and found Mom, who’d taken off after dinner to go take a bath and work on some sewing projects in her sewing room, and I headed outside to start the truck.

I slid across into the passenger seat when Dad came out, dressed in Wranglers, his boots, and a flannel shirt despite it being the middle of August.

“Where are we headed?” I asked.

“You’ll see.” My dad wasn’t normally cryptic, but he did have a sweet tooth, so as we headed toward town, I fully expected him to pass the courthouse in the square and take a left to Haven’s Heavenly Creamery, the town ice cream shop.

Instead, he turned right before the square, went two blocks down and took another left.

“Where are we?” These were residential streets. Small, old, and original houses built at least a hundred years ago. Most of them were well-maintained. Small, two- and three-bedroom bungalows with deep front porches and flat, square, fenced-in backyards. Lydia’s home was two streets past where we’d turned.

It was late, around eight, and it felt later than that to me. I chalked that up to the hour time change and the long day of travel and fought a yawn as Dad pulled into a driveway on the right side of the street.

It was adorable. Three white pillars were lined up along the front of the porch. Between the far right and center was a black railing, with double windows on the home behind it. Straight up from the stairs was a front door, another double window to the left. The landscaping was green and bright and looked recently mulched.

“Whose house is this?”

Dad chewed his bottom lip but turned off the truck. “Said I wanna show you something.”

Weird. Mysterious. My dad was neither, and he normally didn’t chew his lip like he was nervous.

Still, I hopped down out of the truck and followed him up to the front porch, which had to have been recently painted. It was a deep gray, with two white rocking chairs on the porch and, at the far end, a swinging bench also painted white.

Dad opened the screen door, turned the knob on the front door, and walked right in.

What in the world? “Dad…”

He flipped on a light, and the house lit up.

We’d stepped right into what had to be the living room. Wood floors that showed wear, but not too much. Light-cream-painted walls with bright white crown and floor moldings. The living room was empty, and I was still confused, still trying to figure out what was going on when my knees buckled.

“Dad…”

Because beyond the living room we’d walked into was a galley kitchen with a narrow island, and past that, sat a kitchen table. My kitchen table that was supposed to be in storage in Denver. Instead, it was back there, illuminated beneath a black chandelier.

Dad’s jaw worked back and forth, and he blew out a breath. “Didn’t know if this was a good idea or not, and I know you like to do things on your own, but your mom and I talked, and we know how much you love this town, how much you wanted to live here even before you made that decision, so we figured this wasn’t too much of a jump.”

“I don’t get it,” I whispered and stepped further into the house.

I reached an opening to the right of the family room that opened to a small hallway.

“It’s small,” my dad said. “Barely a thousand square feet, and it’s only got two bedrooms, but I figured one could be your office since you’ll be working from home now.”

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