She’d said yes!
His brain pretty much stopped comprehending anything else and played that thought on a loop. He wanted to take herout immediately, somewhere fancy, something nice, one of the places he’d always thought about taking her to when he was just a poor kid without a dime to his name. Even then, she’d deserved to be treated like royalty. He contemplated several restaurants, mentally debating their merits and pitfalls. Ultimately, he ended up tossing each one he’d considered. He worried his lip, coated with perspiration, as his brain raced through different date ideas, ones that wouldn’t end up a complete disaster or with Skye changing her mind and telling him to completely fuck off.
They’d been apart for a long while. Maybe she’d changed significantly. Although from what he’d seen so far, it didn’t appear like she had at the most important levels. She was still the big-hearted perfectionist with horrible self-doubt he’d loved forever. Her core personality, the things that made her Skye, remained the same. Everything else—well, he’d enjoy the opportunity to learn about her now, as a woman; what she liked and disliked, what she did for fun, and what she wanted for the future.
For the final two miles of his run, Rabble pushed himself as far as he could until the sun rose high enough to heat the air unmercifully and the humidity became oppressive, like he had a wet towel pressed across his face. By the time he returned to the bed and breakfast, he was dripping sweat.
When he moved to swipe a piece of bacon from the buffet in the dining room, Mrs. Basket waddled in and swatted his hand with her wrinkled one. Her soft blue eyes were still as sharp as ever as she admonished him. “Rabble Raden, you get your hind-end upstairs and shower. You know better than to come to my table smelling like a pigsty.”
Grinning, he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before she could stop him, and her feigned scoff of disgust followed him up the stairs and into the bathroom. By the time he came down dressed in jeans and a faded black T-shirt, his hair still wet fromhis shower, Declan and Dash had joined Mrs. Basket and Olivia at the table, and each had a plate piled high with breakfast. Rabble took a clean china plate from the buffet and filled it with bacon and eggs and biscuits with homemade jam. He groaned with pleasure at his first bite, his eyes rolling slightly.
Declan grinned mischievously from across the table. “Do you need a moment alone with that biscuit, Rab?”
“Don’t you dare flip him off at my table, Rabble Raden,” Mrs. Basket said, her eyes focused on her plate.
Rabble slowly lowered his hand back to the table and blushed. How she knew exactly what he would do had always been a mystery to him, but she’d done the same thing when he’d been a teenager.
Breakfast passed in companionable discussion. Even Dash joined in the conversation when Mrs. Basket or Olivia asked him a direct question, and Rabble smirked at his friend’s discomfort. Conversing was like pulling teeth for Dash.
“How’s our Skye?” Mrs. Basket asked, her question pointed directly at Rabble.
He ducked his head and tried to rein in the grin that wanted to break free. “I think she’s good.”
Mrs. Basket’s sharp eyes found his, “Youthink, or youknow?”
Rabble chuckled, long and low before settling back into his chair, “Let’s just say, we’re taking a chance on us.”
The reasons he’d left Shiloh Hills and Skye behind no longer held sway over him, he’d grown, matured, and now, nothing and no one would stand in their way of the life they’d always dreamed of.
Mrs. Basket smiled back at him, and gripped his arm with a comforting hand, “I think that’s a chance worth taking, dear.”
He nodded, his eyes going distant as his mind traveled back to Skye for the umpteenth time that day, “Me too.”
“Did you know she goes out to see your mama every month?” The older woman used her fork and knife to slice through a thick cut of cantaloupe on her plate before lifting a small bite to her mouth to chew.
Rabble’s muscles locked up, and the eggs in his mouth turned to ash. Suddenly, the food on his plate and settling in his stomach didn’t seem so appetizing anymore.
Mrs. Basket had no qualms seeking out the things that burdened his soul and laying them bare, though he wished she’d waited until they were alone. That had never been her way though. She always said there was no time for beating about the bush.
Olivia excused herself politely, sending a sympathetic look his way. He appreciated her gesture, but hated it just the same. Dash picked up his plate, still full of breakfast, and nudged his brother to join him. They pushed through the backdoor and sank into the rocking chairs on the porch to finish their morning meal.
“You sure know how to clear a room, Mrs. Basket.” Rabble’s laugh was tight, strained.
She set her cutlery down and grasped his hand in both of her smaller ones, her skin soft and thin. He frowned with worry at the obvious signs of her age.
“Baby boy,” she said, her southern twang becoming more pronounced as she settled into the surrogate grandmother role, “you need to go see your mama.”
A chill crept into his bones, and he tried to staunch the tremors that stole over him. “I…I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“It’s been eight years, son.” Mrs. Basket gave him a sad smile. “I’m sure she’s missin’ her boy.”
He tried to pull away. If he could escape, he wouldn’t have to face what she was saying, the pain that it drudged up. Her grip was surprisingly strong, and he quickly found himself clinging to her hands like a lifeline.
His voice broke. “Skye goes to see her?”
She nodded. “Every month, baby. Every month.”
Pressure built behind his eyes and nose but he refused to acknowledge it, even in front of Mrs. Basket, who had shown him such kindness and care when she didn’t have to. Instead, he closed his eyes and let the emotions wash through him while he focused on taking deep breaths.