Page 85 of Something Like Sunflowers

Not Home.

Still.

What if I’m Not Sure.

“Earth to Devyn!” Lemon snaps her fingers in front of my face and laces her arm through mine. “We got the rest of the items on the list. We just need to load the lumber. Robbie checked us out already on lane two. Here’s the receipt incase Hunter needs it for write-offs.”

“Write-offs. Right,” I mumble, looking around for Abel, who seems to have mysteriously vanished into thin air, his stool leaning right where he just was.

Wasn’t he?

“Where did Abel go?”

“Dunno.” She shrugs. “Hobbled off that way. Something about his papers. You know Abe.”

“Right.”

Because I’m a blubbering idiot who daydreams in random places and doesn’t even notice people moving about in front of her.

“I think I’m confused.”

Lemon eyes me with concern and pulls me down the plumbing aisle where we lean against the model toilet bowls.

It works, I guess.

“What are you confused about, hon? Is it Hunter? The pageant?”

“It’s everything,” I admit. “I didn’t know about Ellie.”

Lemon frowns. “I know…we should have told you sooner, but we didn’t think you’d understand until you met her. And it wasn’t our story to tell. Hunter’s been a saint to this town for years. He raised his brother’s kid as his own and provided a place for all the other kids to thrive. He created scholarships, business loans for mom-and-pop shops, even a community garden. Pardon me for saying it like it is, babe, but your man has grown the hell up since you were last here, and it’s okay if that freaks you out a bit. It’s all right if you take your time to get to know the new man he’s become. And it’s normal if you’re feeling cold feet about being a mother.”

“Mother? I didn’t say anything about me being her mother.”

My eyes widen. “Did I?”

Lemon shoots me a knowing glare. One I imagine older sisters use on their younger siblings when moms aren’t around to do so properly. I wouldn’t know. I had an older brother with a hot best friend who snuck in my bedroom window instead.

Shit. Why does my mind always come back to that like a damn default screen?

“You’re thinking about him again,” Lem points out, and I concede, sighing heavily and leaning onto her shoulder. Sitting here like this, it feels like Lemon and I truly are friends. Then the Lemon I recognize is back, teasing.

“Oh, poor Devyn. Wins Miss American Rodeo, garners thousands of followers online for sponsorships and news station appearances, basically gets insta-famous and comes back home to find an older, sexier, financially stabler version of her high school sweetheart with whom she falls wildly in love and lives happily ever after…oh, poor her.”

Suddenly, I’m laughing out loud until my abs are sore. Lemon laughs, too. Wildly, loudly, and ceaselessly, bringing Shana back to our corner of the store, staring like we’ve grown two more heads.

“What the heck happened to you two?” She rolls her eyes, but her grin says it all. She’s thrilled to see her two best friends becoming, dare I say it, best friends.

“Y’all are right,” I tell them when our laughter finally settles into a silent, shared smile. “I’m in love, head over heels, with Hunter Isaac and his daughter.”

And I want to be her mother.

I don’t speak those last words out loud, though. Not yet. Something inside me still screams it’s too much, too good to be true. But I will say one thing.

“I’m staying.”

Shana and Lemon tackle me to the floor in a hug, and we laugh all over again, until our faces are numb.

Riding home, we blast Shania Twain, hollering the lyrics to “Man, I Feel Like a Woman.” I marvel at the rows and rows of sunflowers, fields of wheat, rolling hills and haybales for miles to come. The smell of manure is thick in the cool, fall air, and the chill on my face as I let the wind whip away at me through the open windows of the truck is telling of an approaching winter. Crisp. Exciting.

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