Page 40 of Harvest Moon (Riverbend 3)

Sometimes the tension was so thick he had to leave the room. Sometimes he wondered what was at the root of the tension: regret, anger, chemistry? Because, yeah, that was still there.

And he kept it buried with all the rest. “We’re mostly focusing on what needs to be done. There’s Emma, then there’s the orchard—harvest begins soon. There’s plenty here to keep us busy.”

“Is Laurel—does she still...?”

“Hold our son’s death against me? No doubt, but we don’t talk about that. No reason to get into it at this point. We have more immediate concerns.”

“Of course. I just don’t want her making you feel bad.”

No one could possibly make him feel worse than he’d made himself feel. “Or getting her hooks into me again?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to.”

His family had never fully understood Laurel. They were all so open with their affection, but Laurel was more reserved. All those walls that had been so hard to climb over protected a soft, vulnerable heart. When they were together his family had accepted her as their own. But they’d never really seen the vulnerable side of her.

“And you don’t have to worry about me.” He almost added again that he was over his ex-wife, but the last time he’d said it, his heart rejected the statement. Besides, there was a point at which you were protesting too much, and Avery was too perceptive to miss it.

“I also wanted to offer my help. I’m available to babysit in the evenings if either of you needs a break. Emma knows me from the clinic and church, so I’m familiar to her.” She cocked a brow. “And I do know all the Disney princesses.”

“She’s really into all that. Thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind, but I’m sure we’ll be able to reach her aunt soon.”

Avery’s gaze sharpened on him. “You think she’ll take on Emma’s guardianship?”

“I have every reason to think so. She’s apparently financially secure, and she’s obviously in good health if she went on a sailing expedition.”

“It takes a lot more than health and wealth to raise a child.”

Having Emma’s future hanging in the balance... sometimes it was overwhelming. And the hearing deadline didn’t help. He pulled off his ball cap and wiped his forearm across his face. “I’m just trying to take one day at a time here, Ave.”

“Right. Sorry. Is there any other way I can help? I know you were looking for an office to lease for the business. Wes and I could take that on for you—meet with Realtors, inspect potential properties.”

“Thanks, but I think it’s best to put that on hold till all this is settled. Between Emma, the business, and the executorship, I don’t have the time or energy to make that decision right now.”

“I understand. Let me know if I can help in any way. I’d even be willing to cook a meal.”

He gave a wry grin. “The stockpile of casseroles in that freezer will last us through the holidays.” Except there was no “us,” and Laurel would be gone long before the holidays. He bit the inside of his mouth.

Dismay flickered in Avery’s eyes. But the next moment her lips lifted in a wan smile. “Well, I’m just a phone call away if you need me.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.”

As his sister walked away, Gavin put his hearing protection in place and turned on the mower, all the while wondering if that slip of the tongue had been more telling than he wanted to admit.

By the time Gavin returned the mower to the barn, the sun had slipped behind the mountains. The air was thick with the scent of rain, and the temperature had dropped several degrees. He made his way through the burgeoning apple trees and onto the back patio, anticipating a shower.

As he entered the house cool air washed over his skin. Even though it was almost suppertime, the past week had taught him to enter quietly in case Emma was sleeping or Laurel was trying to put her down. Since the child was sometimes up in the night, her nap schedule had been erratic.

He entered the living room and stopped short at the sight. Laurel had fallen asleep on the sofa, orchard papers in hand, hair tumbling over the throw pillow. More documents were fanned across the end table beside the nursery monitor, which displayed Emma, sleeping in her crib.

Laurel had always been able to fall asleep anywhere. In the passenger seat of a car, watching TV on the sofa, sitting on their back deck. On their honeymoon she’d fallen asleep during their couples’ massage. Afterward he teased that it was the most expensive nap she’d ever take.

Her expression was unguarded in sleep, her muscles relaxed, her lips slightly parted. Her arms were toned and sun-kissed from all the hours she worked outside. Chill bumps lifted the skin on her arm.

He pulled a lap blanket from the back of the recliner and gently placed it over her. When she didn’t stir he let out a breath—she wouldn’t thank him for the caring gesture.

He was about to leave the room when her phone, sitting on the coffee table, vibrated. A banner came across the screen with a text notification from a Connor Martin.

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