Page 15 of Where We Call Home

Her boldness. Her fire.

Herpigtails.

She made me feel something I hadn’t in a long, long time.

Hope.

Four

22 weeks pregnant

Baby is the size of a red bell pepper

Penny: Girls night?

Aspen: Yes please!

Penny: Tequila and margs?

Aspen: You know the way to my heart

Aspen: I’m free after I close up for the day!

Penny: Boone better watch out! I’m coming for ya

Penny: I’m ready to FEAST and DRINK

Aspen: Theo? What do you think?

Penny: Earth to Theooooo

It was mid-afternoon, and that meant one thing: time for a snack run. Since nothing at home could satisfy this craving, I headed to the pharmacy for something different.

Buying food here was always a gamble, you ran the risk of snagging something expired. I’d learned that the hard way. For me, convenience often won out over quality.

I stood in front of the snack aisle, tapping my finger against my chin as I surveyed my options. The bags on the top shelf were slightly faded from the harsh fluorescent lights, a clear sign to steer clear of those, a trick I learned from being a regular.

When I’d left the house, I was craving something sweet—maybe a chocolate bar or kettle corn. Standing here now, surrounded by brightly colored bags, my baby and I decided salty and spicy was the way to go.

I grabbed the last bags of Flaming Hot Cheetos, along with some Hot Fries and Takis, clutching them tightly against my chest like someone might try to steal them from me. Over my dead body. I’d protect these with every fiber of my being.

“Why are you white-knuckling six bags of chips?”

The voice startled me, and I spun around, ready to fight, chest-to-chest with a man, a very tall and sturdy man.

My eyes trailed up from his broad chest, which was right at my eye level, to a pair of green eyes staring back at me. I’d recognize those anywhere. I stepped back, suddenly too close for comfort.

“Seriously,” I quipped, smirking. “We need to stop meeting like this. I’m starting to think you’re following me. Or are you here to stock up on your weekly value pack of condoms?”

I hoped the joke sounded casual because, suddenly, I felt embarrassingly self-conscious about my snack hoard. Rhodes’s eyes lingered on the absurd pile of bags in my arms.

Was it insecurity or nerves? Rhodes looked good today—too good. His hair was tucked under a backward cap, and he wore a long-sleeve sun shirt that clung in all the right places. His dark-wash jeans were worn, and his boots caked with dirt. Not my usual type but, it was working on me.

He held up a small white pharmacy bag.

“I’m just here to pick up my meds,” he said with a smirk, shaking the bag lightly so the pills rattled inside. “Thanks for the reminder about the condoms, though. I’ll grab them on my way out.”

My face instantly heated, and my palms grew clammy. Good job, Theo. Way to be anass.

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