Page 114 of Even After This
I curl a stray strand of hair around my ear. “Did you shovel the sidewalk for me this morning?” I ask him.
Hank shifts the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.
Half of me expects him to misunderstand and ask me an inappropriate question. But the other half cannot ignore his keen, staring eyes. I release Harlan and take two steps to stand in front of Hank. “You did. You got up early and shoveled the sidewalk for me.”
Hank grinds his teeth on the small piece of wood. “I may not hear very well, but I still listen.”
Tears take over, and words get caught in my throat.
His strong hand squeezes my arm, and then he disappears around the corner of the building.
As I return to Harlan, I gaze out over the rest of the Holcombe property. On the other side of the fence is an oddly familiar house. Goose bumps run down my arms.
I yank on Harlan, pulling us to a stop. My fuzzy brain is missing a piece of a puzzle. “Who lives next door?”
Harlan looks across the field. “The Carsons.”
“The Carsons?” Studying the property, I notice a building behind the main house. I shove the quilt into Harlan’s arms and veer off the path toward the wooden fence, my heart racing. “The Carsons.”
“Meredith.” Harlan catches up to me. “What’s going on?”
Once we reach the fence, I grab the top rail. “I can’t believe it.” I point down the gravel road. “Twelve Bluebells Ranch. The property Prissy showed me.”
The frigid temperature awakens my senses, filling my mind with cool winds of hope and possibility.
He turns his gaze to the house and rubs his chin. “Old Man Carson is known for yanking everyone’s chain about selling this place. I didn’t realize this was the ranch you were considering. Prissy said he officially listed it for sale?”
“Yes.” My breath materializes in the cold.
He shifts behind me, cages me in with his hands on either side of mine, while we both stare at the neighboring land. He says into my ear, “Your loss is unfathomable. It will always be part of your story. But it’s not your whole story. So dream big, sweetheart.” He kisses my cheek. “Dream big.”
Stuck in the safe cocoon of all that is Harlan Holcombe, I breathe in his words. This is my hope. This is why I wade through the horrendous pain of grief. Because I have to believe that it won’t always be my whole story. “I think that’s why I came to Colorado.”
Harlan’s day-old stubble scratches my cheek when he nods.
I angle my face to his. “What about you? Do you dream big?”
He grunts. “I’m thinking about a job change.” Shaking his head, he pulls back. “Making movies used to be fun, but it just doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”
I turn and wrap my arms around his waist. “What will you do?”
His eyes flash with intensity. “My stab at consulting went better than I expected. I’ve got a few more opportunities lined up. It feels good to help people.”
I study the man in front of me. “You’re going to help people figure out how to work their dreams into reality.”
He slides his gaze to me with a sheepish glint. “I don’t know about that.”
“But what do you need out of life, Harlan?” I suck in my bottom lip, holding it between my teeth, and wait for his answer.
Harlan’s gaze darts from my eyes to my mouth. He leans in and gives me a kiss so soft and sweet I think I’m going to melt. After a few seconds of bliss, he pulls back. “You know what I really need?”
I shake my head, trying to reenter our conversation through the fog of his kiss. “What’s that?”
His lips quirk. “I just need someone who can sit by me and hold my hand when I’m throwing up.”
Giggling, I push him away. “Then you need to find yourself another woman.”
“Come on.” He pulls me back into his arms.
