Page 50 of Where We Call Home

“Let me guess—you haven’t talked to Penny or Aspen yet?” His voice softened, cutting through my carefully constructed walls.

“No,” I sighed. “And I don’t think a Halloween party is the best place to start.”

“I have to disagree,” he said, his tone light but insistent. “It’s perfect. Everyone will be in costume—it’ll lighten the mood. You’ll all feel a little silly, and it’ll make the conversation easier.”

I bit my lip, considering. He had a point. Costumes and a crowd could act as a buffer, easing the tension I’d been dreading. And really, what was the worst that could happen? I’d already been avoiding them for so long; maybe facing them wasn’t as terrifying as I’d made it out to be.

“Plus,” Rhodes added, his voice dropping slightly, as if coaxing me, “Penny and Aspen aren’t cruel people. They don’t have a mean bone in their bodies. They care about you.”

His words struck a chord I couldn’t ignore, disarming me the way only Rhodes seemed able to. He was right. Penny and Aspen cared about me—even if I wasn’t sure I deserved it right now. And maybe...just maybe...they missed me as much as I missed them.

I leaned back, letting the realization settle over me like a wave. Growing up, I’d never had strong friendships. I’d been teased, left out, labeled “poor” because I didn’t have the newest clothes or gadgets. I’d carried that baggage with me all these years, dragging it into relationships that didn’t deserve it. I’d built walls, assuming rejection where there wasn’t any.

“Hey.” Rhodes’s voice cut through my thoughts. He paused the massage and tapped the bottom of my foot gently. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve never done anything to make me feel unwanted,” I admitted, my voice soft, almost hesitant. “I think…I think I’ve been projecting my own insecurities onto them.”

It felt strange to say it out loud, but at the same time, it made so much sense. Hearing the words, giving them life, was like flipping a switch. A light bulb went off, illuminating things I’d tried to ignore.

“I wasn’t the kind of kid who had strong friendships growing up,” I confessed, staring down at my hands. “I was teased, bullied, and always left behind. Kids at school used to make fun of my clothes, but I won’t bore you with the pity party. I guess I just assumed that’s how everyone saw me.”

Rhodes exhaled sharply, his voice rough with understanding. “Kids can be fucking cruel,” he said. “But, Honey, you’re not that kid anymore. And they’re not those kids. I think you owe it to yourself and to them to have the conversation. Not that I’m telling you what to do,” he added quickly, a small grin softening his tone.

I smiled faintly, nodding. “No, you’re right. And the Halloween party…maybe it’s the perfect place to start.”

“Exactly.” He smiled back, his expression full of encouragement.

I sat up, pulling my legs from his lap and scooting closer. Without hesitation, Rhodes lifted his arm, and like it was second nature, I nestled into his side. He pulled me closer, his warmth wrapping around me like a heavy blanket on a crisp autumn night.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my words barely audible.

“Anytime, Honey.”

I felt peace—no ache in my chest, no racing thoughts, just quiet comfort. With Rhodes’s arm around me, I had a plan. I had a safe place. And for the first time, I believed everything might just be okay.

Twenty

It had been a few days since Theo moved in, and honestly, not much had changed—except now I had someone to sit with at night and watch TV.

Slow, quiet living suited us both. I wasn’t one for going out or having constant human interaction, and apparently, neither was my new roommate.

Theo had been introducing me to her favorite true crime documentaries, which was both endearing and mildly terrifying. She loved all things morbid. I was convinced that if she ever decided to kill me and bury my body, no one would ever find out.

Last night, during one of her chosen documentaries, she kept reminding me to pay attention to specific details because they’d “come back later.” One thing I’d learned: it’s never just a boating accident.

“Let’s get moving, gentlemen!” I yelled, rallying the crew from the barn. It was the start of the day, and I was in charge. Boone was off with his dad, finalizing the land deal.

It wasn’t unusual for me to play ringmaster of the circus we called Cassidy Ranch, especially lately. Something big was in the works, though I refrained from asking questions until I had reason to. I had a feeling that time was coming soon.

Four ranch hands, plus Logan, broke up their little powwow and ambled toward me, ready to get to work.

“We’ve got a few things on the agenda today,” I started, glancing over the group. “Crowley, Jacobs—you’re on fence duty. Check for any broken barbs or posts. If you find something, make note and report back.” I nodded toward them, a silent dismissal. They didn’t need to stick around for the rest of the assignments.

“Stanson,” I continued, turning to the lanky ranch hand, “you’re on stall duty.”

Stanson groaned, crossing his arms over his chest like a sulking teenager.

Next to him, Ryker tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh.

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