Page 30 of Where We Call Home

When I dwelled on it too much, I spiraled into negativity—first angry, then sad, then laughing it off, reminding myself I didn’t need anyone but me. After all, I was the only constant in my own life.

Still, the bad thoughts sometimes overshadowed the good. Right now, I needed to focus on the positive: my pregnancy, my future, and the moments I could spend with Rhodes.

When my dad died, a cloud of gloom settled over me and stayed for years. I worked hard to overcome it, but it never disappeared entirely. Lately, it was harder to push away. My friends seemed distant, my body was changing, and my thoughts were a chaotic mess, magnified by these wild hormones.

My phone rang, breaking through the haze. Rhodes’ name lit up the screen.

Over the past few weeks, I’d grown comfortable talking on the phone, a big shift for me. Rhodes was a talker, not a texter. He believed it was “better to communicate and understand someone when you could hear their voice.” How adult of him.

“What’s up, Honey?” Rhodes’ deep voice was music to my ears. Another reason I caved to his phone calls was just to hear it. His slight Southern drawl had a soft lull that calmed me.

“What did you just call me?” I laughed, flopping back onto the bed. I felt like a high schooler again, the cute boy was calling, and I had to keep quiet so my mom wouldn’t overhear. Next thing you know, I’d be twirling my hair like in the movies.

“Uh, it slipped out,” he replied, sounding uncertain.

I felt a twinge of guilt for calling him out on it because, truthfully, I liked it. That simple word warmed my cold heart.

To save us both from embarrassment, I steered the conversation away. “That last word you played was total bullshit. It’s not even real!”

“Shvitz? It means sweat,” he replied, smugness dripping from his voice. I could hear the grin, the bastard.

“How do you even know that?” I laughed, staring at the cream-colored ceiling.

“Let’s just say I spent a lot of time alone last year and turned it into a learning experience.”

“Ha, same,” I admitted. “Except, I’ve been stuck in my head, not learning obscure Scrabble words.”

Rhodes’ next question caught me off guard. “What are you wearing right now?”

“Geez, Rhodes, I didn’t peg you for the ‘fuck boy’ type. I thought we’d at least make it to date two before the dirty talk,” I teased, adding a sultry edge to my tone.

Rhodes let out a laugh, full of vigor and amusement. “I was asking because I’m parked outside and need your help with something. But I do like being called a good boy.”

Why did that simple admission make my skin prickle and my mouth water? I was hot and bothered over something so small, but lately, everything turned me on.

I fanned myself, trying to refocus. “You need my help?” I glanced at my ratty cow-print pajamas. “If it involves leaving the house, I’ll need to change.”

“Yep. Grab your camera, and I’ll explain on the way. Want me to come to the door to help you?”

“No!” I shouted, louder than intended. The last thing I needed was for my mom to see Rhodes and bombard me with questions. “I’ll come down. Just give me a minute to get ready.”

I got out of bed and shuffled to my dresser in the corner. Trying my best to open the drawer that held my undershirts, I yanked and yanked until finally, I could reach my hand in to grab the first shirt I could find.

“Can you tell me what you need my help with? Or, is it a super secret mission?” I asked, placing him on speakerphone as I got dressed. Pulling off my shirt, I slipped into a padded sports bra, the only thing big enough to get over my boobs. They had doubled in size; I kind of liked it.

“Mac’s sister hired a photographer for marketing stuff, but they flaked. I may have mentioned I know a cool photographer.”

“I hate to tell you this…I have little experience doing marketing photos. I deal more with slow-pace, landscapes, and cute animals.” My craft hones in on the beauty of wildlife and broad detail. In marketing, it’s all about timing and ambiance, which are two things that differ heavily from my skill set. Hell, I don’t even know how to properly edit indoor photos. “I can still see what I can do.”

Being with nature was calming. I didn’t feel boxed in or restrained when capturing wildlife and exploring the landscapes. Capturing images that elicit emotions from the viewer is both an art and a science. Traveling around the world, I learned from many great artists how to use natural lighting to my advantage and make the photos speak for themselves with little editing or changes.

Rhodes cleared his throat before responding in a hushed tone. “I didn’t think about that. I heard ‘photographer’ and thought of you.”

I stepped into my overalls, clipping one side and leaving the other open. Grabbing the phone, I waddled over to my full-length mirror to make sure my outfit looked presentable. In the reflection, I saw a pair of dark-washed ripped overalls paired with a tight white T-shirt. My belly was on full display, and I lookedgood.

“Thank you for thinking of me. I needed an excuse to get out of this house.” I confessed, even though it wasn’t necessarily what I expected. Running the comb through my hair, I made the part as even as I could to showcase both colors.

“You know, you can always give me a call when you’re bored. I can beat you in Scrabble in person if that will make you feel better about losing,” Rhodes bragged, practically dangling the win in my face.

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