Page 19 of The Reason I Married Him
If anything, I’ll kill them with kindness.
“Make a right on Farmhouse Lane,”the GPS says.
“Thank you, Lady Navigation,” I say as I turn down Farmhouse Lane and spot the white farmhouse in the distance. I’ve been here no more than a handful of times when Clarke was alive. And from what I can see, nothing has changed.
The quaint two-bedroom, two-story house is located right on the edge of the farm with a guest house off to the side and the towering barns and silos directly behind. I remember when Clarke and Cassidy purchased the farm. I thought it was insane. Neither of them had any farm experience, but they had a dream—a vision—and I had to appreciate that. Because when I first started writing, I had zero experience with what I was doing, but I did have a dream of what I wanted to achieve. So I worked with that and have created something—a solid readership, strong writing ability, and thick plots that keep you guessing until the very last page.
Same as my brother and Cassidy.
I’m just sad they couldn’t see the fruits of their labor.
I slow down as I drive over the dirt road, not wanting to kick up too much dust as I approach the house. There are a few carsout front, one of them being a Rivian—nice—so I pull in next to that and put the car in park.
Well, here goes nothing.
I grab my gifts from the passenger side, hop out of my car, and head up the front steps of the porch. I’m about to knock when I hear, “Can I help you?”
I look over to my right, and sure enough, Aubree Rowley stands next to the guest house, arms crossed with an irritated look on her face. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting a visitor.
“Hey, Aubree,” I say. It takes her a second, but I witness the moment she recognizes me—her jaw goes slack, her eyes widen slightly, and her arms drop to her side.
“Wyatt?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s been a bit, huh?”
Just then, the screen door opens, and Ryland stands in the doorframe. Tall, broad, and nearly half a decade older, Ryland looks completely different with the fine laugh lines near his eyes and a more mature, carved face. When he notices me, he says, “Wyatt, holy shit.”
And then, like the nice guy he’s always been, he greets me with a firm handshake. “How are you doing, man?”
“Who is at the door?” I hear MacKenzie ask as she charges out to the porch. Her big eyes look up at me, and her button nose wrinkles as she asks, “Who are you?”
Yeah, I knew that would happen. When you’re MIA from your niece’s life, they tend not to know who you are. I plan on fixing that.
I squat down to her level and say, “I’m your uncle, Wyatt.” I hold out the present I brought her, a stuffed horse that I know will match the one she already has since she received one when she was born. “This is for you.”
She takes the present but then says, “I don’t have an Uncle Wyatt.”
Ryland bends down as well and says, “Mac, Uncle Wyatt is your dad’s brother.”
Her eyes lift to mine in confusion. “But I’ve never seen you before.”
“You have,” I say, “but only when you were a baby. I’ve been pretty busy lately, but I wanted to come say hi.”
“Oh.” She glances down at the present and then smiles back up at me. “Thanks, Uncle Wyatt.” Then she charges back into the house, the screen door shutting behind her.
Okay, great connection. One for the memory books.
Ryland and I stand, and I hand him the box of baked goods. “Just some cookies and stuff from my town. Wanted to bring you something as a peace offering in case there was resentment for me showing up unannounced and a few months too late.”
“Why would there be resentment?” Ryland’s brow pulls together. “It’s good to see you. Come in.” He holds the door open for me, and I’m pleasantly surprised.
I walk into the house, and wow. Absolutely nothing has changed since the last time I was here.Nothing.Same pictures on the wall, same dilapidated couch off to the right, and same curtains that I remember helping Cassidy hang when they first moved into the farmhouse.
It feels like that happened only yesterday. Clarke asked me if I would supply some of the muscle they needed to move their stuff, and of course I said yes on one condition . . . they provided me with all the pizza I desired from By the Slice, easily the best pizza place I’ve ever been to. They filled me up with crispy crust and gooey cheese while I worked hard for them. It was a fun weekend. I got to know the Rowleys better, Ryland and I bonded, and I witnessed pregnant Cassidy run around the house, trying to get it ready for when MacKenzie arrived.
“Who was out front?” Hattie asks from the kitchen. She turns around just in time for me to notice just how much older she’sgotten. Significantly younger than her siblings, she didn’t do much during the move except bake cookies in the kitchen. She said she had to help Cassidy break in the kitchen so that it was ready for all of the baking they would do in the future. No one blinked an eye because she was so young . . . and because Cassidy had such a soft spot for Hattie.
“Hey, Hattie.” I wave and then stick my hand in my pocket.
