Page 101 of One Touch

I’ll find a way to make this work, Katie-girl. I promise.

“I need you to find something in here.” She pressed her hand to my thumping heart. “Find the man who’s playful. Who sneaks treats to a rooster who hates him. Who hasn’t given up on a family that doesn’t even deserve him. The man who treats his crew with respect, as equals. I need you to love that man as much as I do.”

Her words were like a dagger to my heart. It wasn’t enough to say I loved her. She needed me to love myself—something that felt like an insurmountable task.

But I couldn’t give up on her. On us.

“Okay.” The word clawed its way out of my throat, and panic coursed through me.

Kate deserves more, and all she’s asking for is time.

The thought ran itself on a loop in my head and steeled my determination to figure my shit out. I swallowed back the tears that burned my throat and threatened to escape.

If time was what Kate needed—for herself and for me—then that was what I could give her.

She shifted, looking at me. I was lost in the depths of her green eyes. My heart remained a bloody pulp on the floor.

“Promise me? Promise we’ll both put in the work and this time apart isn’t forever?” Her eyes were searching for comforting reassurance. I had never been more sure of anything in my entire life.

I rested my forehead against hers. “The only thing that’s forever is you and me, Katie-girl. I promise.”

THIRTY-FIVE

KATE

Time wasa strange and lonely thing. Two weeks had passed since Beckett and I had reluctantly agreed to separate in order to work out our issues, and since then nothing felt right. My clothes were itchy. Short winter days stretched out far too long. My smiles were forced. The skies were thick and heavy with gray clouds that matched my mood.

Time inched forward.

The only problem was, I had no idea how long it would take and whether a relationship built on shaky footing was strong enough for Beckett to be there on the other side of it.

Before he left, I had made him promise not to wait around for me, but the words were wooden as they left my mouth. While I hated the idea of him moving on and possibly meeting someone new, he needed this time as badly as I did.

Maybe even more so.

Aunt Tootie always said, “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” My cup was bone dry at the moment.

I sat alone in the Highfield House apartment and stared into space. After Beckett left, I couldn’t stand to stay in the farmhouse with my aunt. It was too painful. Every detail, from the period-appropriate color palette to the restored wood trim, reminded me of him.

Not even my own house felt safe for my heart. I sighed and let my head hang.

How did we get here?

The cold wintry air howled outside. I made a hot cup of coffee and lost myself in wrapping the small gifts I’d picked up for my family as soft music played in the background. Lately I couldn’t stand the silence of my own thoughts.

It was the first Christmas in years all the Sullivans would be spending together, and I desperately needed it to be the start of new, happy memories. I needed to feed my roots if they had any hope of flourishing.

I looked out the window toward the home across the gravel driveway. Wyatt, Penny, and Lark were still living there while they planned the build of their dream home come spring.

For Christmas, Highfield House was trimmed in colored lights, and a fresh wreath with a big red bow hung on the front door. Garland wound around the handrails on either side of the porch stairs. In the far distance, across the yard, I could see rows and rows of dormant blueberry bushes shivering against the frigid Michigan winter.

My insides felt just as cold and dead, but unlike the blueberry bushes that held on to life until the spring thaw, I felt permanently numbed.

Movement on the porch caught my attention. Bundled up, my niece Penny stomped out the front door. I watched with a small smile as she stepped to the edge of the top stair and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Aunt Katie! Are you coming or what?”

Wyatt appeared behind her and dropped a gentle hand on her shoulder, probably scolding her for shouting up to me, if the deep line in his forehead was any indication.

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