The Long Road Home (These Valley Days, #1)

by Bethany-Kris

  “You did it, too. Before her, I mean. You did it for yourself. She can do it, too. It’s got little to nothing to do with me.”

  Shaking her head, Delaney replied, “I wouldn’t have done it without you, either.”

  “Yeah, well ...” To her, it didn’t change the fact that it took a lot of courage. Something no amount of money could buy. That shit came from the heart and soul. “Get going—you’ve still got to make taco dip and cheesecake for tomorrow.”

  Delaney snickered. “All those calories.”

  “The best kind of calories, though.”

  And she refused to feel any guilt about the damn good food she would eat tomorrow at her housewarming. What could be better than great food and friends, anyway?

  “Truth.” Delaney glanced her way again, but this time, her smile felt true. “You’re right. About my cousin, I mean. Everything is ... well, it’s going to be great.”

  “That’s the only way you need to look at things.”

  No one needed to manifest trouble when it hadn’t even darkened their doorstep, yet. Negative thoughts could do just that before someone even realized it.

  Delaney yanked the Jeep into reverse, but the vehicle didn’t begin to move as she must have kept her foot on the brake. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow,” Gracen agreed.

  Her friend smiled in the direction of the side of the house, and her gaze followed the path of the driveway that continued winding around to the rear. “Does it feel like home, yet?”

  Gracen didn’t even have to think about it.

  Even empty ...

  “From the moment I walked through the door.”

  *

  Gracen trekked the long driveway with a black garbage bag in each hand. It was hard to believe how much garbage could come from just unpacking and wiping things down. The short walk for garbage trips might be the one thing she would miss from living right in town. Rural living wouldn’t be quite the same in that aspect.

  Situated on ten acres of property and hugged for as far as the eye could see by rolling wheat fields, Gracen’s three-bedroom farmhouse sat at the bottom of a hill off the main road. Driving by, if someone didn’t pay attention, they might miss the private access leading down to the house. The tall gray barn was typically the first thing a person saw if they did look beyond the crest of the gully as it reached tall toward the sky. The house and detached garage sat off to the corner of the property, a good fifty meters from the barn, behind a line of white birch trees that Gracen had remembered being a lot smaller when she was a girl.

  In fact, her girlhood bedroom had looked through the tips of the birches, and in the spring of the year, she watched the swallows come back to their nests tucked into the elbows of the thicker limbs. The chirps of baby birds had awakened her from dreams most mornings. It shouldn’t be a surprise that most of her childhood had been spent in a princess-like fantasy.

  At the very end of the driveway, Gracen dropped the black bags into the wooden garbage bin with her house’s number painted in a bright white.

  4255.

  The SOLD sign still stood proudly on the other side of the drive facing the road overtop the standard realty posting. They wouldn’t be able to take it down for another week or so—according to the realtor, anyhow.

  Gracen didn’t really understand why it had to remain up after she already had the keys, but those were the rules. The sign wasn’t a bother. It gave her butterflies every time it came into view because it was one more reminder that this place was hers.

  All ten acres.

  Every single inch.

  Hers.

  Somehow, she’d found her way back home.

  Gracen had made it halfway back to the house when a truck turned off the road and pulled into her driveway. She didn’t immediately recognize the dark blue Ford F150, and despite the daylight, she had to squint to make out who sat behind the wheel.

  It didn’t become clear until the truck was a lot closer.

  Barely ten feet away, in fact.

  Perhaps she’d recognized him faster, but the shock kept Gracen from accepting the realty in front of her. Not because it made her unhappy.

  Quite the opposite.

  Her heart was ready to explode.

  There was no mistaking that strong jaw or those stormy blue eyes piercing into her from behind the windshield. One of his hands lifted from the steering wheel to wave her way making Gracen’s smile bloom instantly. His widened as well.

  Malachi, who had already put the truck into park, pushed open the driver’s door after unbuckling his seat belt. Gracen made her way around to his side of the truck before he’d even gotten out, but his arms were opened wide as soon as he did. She practically jumped into his embrace, their chests slamming together from the force of her propelling forward.

  “Surprise,” was all he whispered as he hugged her tight and picked her up from the ground.

  His one warm wrapped her back around her baggy hoodie while his other palmed her ass overtop of her cut off jean shorts.

  Malachi put a lot into that hug.

  Gracen felt every ounce of it.

  How long it lasted.

  The way he squeezed her impossibly tight.

  After her first call to close the distance between them, not much had changed. She kept busy because of her move and, while he didn’t explicitly say so, Gracen could tell Malachi had things going on in his life, too. Texts here and there and short phone calls were all the two could manage until this weekend.

  “You weren’t supposed to get here until tomorrow,” she mumbled against his neck.

  His chuckles rocked them both, but his arms didn’t loosen for a second. Even when she straightened up in his hold to look down at him. Malachi smiled big.

  “I thought ... what’s a day, right?”

  She laughed, nodding. “Right.”

  Then, she took another glance at the idling truck jacked up on big tires with FORD stamped in the middle of the chrome grill.

  He didn’t miss it.

  “That’s new,” she noted.

  Malachi shrugged as he slowly let Gracen back down to the ground. Neither of the two could keep from touching one another, though. If it wasn’t his hand traveling underneath the back of her hoodie, then hers was playing in the pockets of his leather jacket.

  “Not brand new,” he said, “but new to me.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Where’s the bike?”

  “Technically, you’re looking at it. I traded the bike for the truck—and added a few thousand on top of it to settle the score.”

  Gracen blinked. “Why?”

  Laughing, he pulled her in for another quick hug and a kiss he dropped to the top of her head. She closed her eyes with a sigh the longer his lips lingered there. “Why do you sound sad about a bike you wouldn’t even ride?”

  “Because you liked it. It was your bike.”

  Malachi’s head bobbed with a nod while his gaze turned distant even though it remained on the truck in front of them. Eventually, he said, “Yeah, but I didn’t love the bike.” Before she could consider what that statement might mean, he asked her, “At least, you’ll ride shotgun in this with me, yeah?”

  High off the ground in a vehicle that looked like others would move for? Absolutely.

  She still had to ask, “You didn’t trade the bike because of me, did you?”

  Malachi didn’t miss a beat. “Do you want me to lie?”

  Damn this man.

  Why did he have to be perfect?

  Her heart was already his.

  “Come here,” she told him, grabbing the sides of his jacket to pull him into her.

  The kiss on her head just wasn’t enough.

  Gracen pressed her lips to his, clutching him tight to her while his hands framed her face. The seconds flew by—one after another—but the plushness of his mouth didn’t move against hers. He lingered, and the way his lips curved told her that he reveled in those moments of stillness with
her.

  But then he pecked her on the mouth, too. Another sweep of his lips urged on her own. She found the taste of mint on his breath when her mouth opened for him. His gaze never left hers while their arms tangled around one another, and they swayed on the spot.

  Like the breeze rolling over the hill.

  Pulling at the wheat not yet harvested.

  He broke the kiss first. Only to hug her hard again.

  “I hope you know how much I fucking missed you,” he told her.

  She clung back.

  For dear life.

  “Me, too.”

  She felt his head lift over her shoulder.

  “This place is beautiful. I’ve driven past here so many times,” Malachi said. “That’s gonna be a hell of a driveway in the winter for your car, though.”

  Gracen groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’ve already been warned.”

  Keeping her hugged close to his side, Malachi turned back to the truck slightly. “So hey, I’ve got something for you in the truck. I know you didn’t want any—”

  “You didn’t bring gifts, right?” Gracen asked.

  The way he squinted one eye made Gracen swat him gently on the stomach. “Malachi.”

  “I didn’t get you, like ... house stuff,” he muttered. “Better?”

  She eyed him through narrowed lids. “Barely.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Just get in the truck.”

  “What?”

  Malachi gestured at the passenger side, and even pushed his hand at the small of her back to start her walk forward. “Go on, open the door.”

  Keeping close watch on him over her shoulder, and the way his sly grin continued to grow like he was so pleased with himself, Gracen headed for the side of the F150. She didn’t even think to look through the glass to see what waited inside before she opened the front passenger door.

  Her loud gasp made the fluffy kitten sitting in the middle of the passenger seat on a knitted blue blanket lift his head. Snuggled into a tight little ball, the black and white tuxedo kitten had hair that stuck up from one end of his body to the other. She only assumed he was a boy because of the color of the blanket and the matching collar with a dangling bell around his neck.

  Small enough to fit in her hands, she was too scared to pick him up as his hazy blue eyes blinked out of sync up at her. He even yawed—tiny, sharp teeth stretching wide—and a pink tongue lolled out of his mouth.

  “Oh, my God!”

  Her shriek echoed over the little valley she now called home.

  Malachi’s laughter soon followed. “He meowed almost the whole way here. He only fell asleep like twenty minutes ago.”

  Gracen finally picked up the kitten when he stood up on his blanket with a shudder as he stretched out his spine and tail. He meowed softly, his soft wiggly body settling into her arms as she hugged him to her chest and turned to the man responsible for delivering her such a cruelly cute creature.

  “Why is there litter and a box, all those toys, and whatever else is on the floor of the truck?” she asked.

  Malachi winked. “He needed stuff, didn’t he?”

  Bags of it, though?

  It didn’t even matter.

  Malachi’s plan landed flawlessly.

  The last of Gracen’s air rushed out of her chest. “You really got me a kitten?”

  “I would have gone for the puppy,” Malachi admitted with a shrug, “but I didn’t know what kind of breed to even start with.” Moving close enough that the tip of his finger could softly flick the kitten’s ear, he added, “This guy was a lot simpler. And kind of perfect, too. He just looked meant for you.”

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Her heart hurt from being so full.

  Malachi leaned in for another kiss that she happily provided with a huge smile that couldn’t be dimmed. “Welcome home, babe.”

  Chapter 35

  Malachi didn’t slow in his focused work when Gracen came to stand in the doorway of the large master bedroom. The electric drill whirled noisily as he plugged the wooden structure of her king size bed together with screws. At the old place, the bed had taken up a significant portion of the room but here, it nestled between two big windows that faced the barn and field.

  Situated above the equally sized kitchen and dining room down below, the bedroom took up half of the upstairs. The other two bedrooms on the other side of the upper portion were a third of the size each, with a bathroom at the middle just beyond the stairwell landing overlooking the entry nook offset from the living room.

  With a low fuck it and a sexy grunt, Malachi hit the last beam connecting the sidewalls of the bedframe with the heel of his palm. A crack echoed but the beam fell into place. She didn’t miss the way he flinched at the sound and leaned higher to get a look at any damage he caused.

  “Fuck my life, that was stupid,” he mumbled, but not unhappily.

  Nothing broke, apparently.

  The bed, with its big head- and footboards and four posts, could take a beating. Older than her, it had seen a lot of abuse being moved over the years. He didn’t have a reason to worry, but Gracen didn’t bother to bring it up.

  Gracen giggled in the doorway, finally gaining his attention. Of course, his gaze traveled to the bundle of blankets in her arms. Swaddled and sleeping like a baby, the kitten she had not yet named, slept happily.

  Mostly, she called him Cat.

  For now.

  “Look at you,” Malachi teased.

  Gracen rolled her eyes, knowing damn well how she looked rocking a kitten, but she couldn’t bear to put him down. He kept waking up and meowing in that soft, barely-there way of his, and it broke her heart when he always looked like he couldn’t find her.

  She rubbed the spot between the kitten’s ears, not disturbing his sleep in the slightest. “We had some milk, and a snack, and then he peed.”

  She grinned, glancing back up at Malachi.

  He laughed under his breath, turning around to move the box spring and mattress from the wall to their proper position on the bed. The man made it quite a show to watch him lift heavy things and move them around. Luckily for her, Malachi didn’t seem bothered by her ogling.

  “In the box?” he asked.

  “Yeah, he used the litter.”

  She was kind of worried how that would go overnight when the kitten was too small to climb the stairs. She wasn’t sleeping downstairs, and the litterbox wasn’t going in her bedroom, so they were going to have to make a compromise somewhere. Probably the litter up and downstairs daily until she could grab a second box.

  “Did your dad make the bed, too?” he asked.

  Her attention snapped up from the cat again. “No, actually.”

  “Oh.” Malachi dropped the mattress on top of the box spring, adding, “I assumed because other than that thing in the corner—” He pointed at the cuddle couch Delaney had practically forced Gracen to take out of their living room because it was way too big for the space. “—you didn’t bring a lot of furniture. It’s wood, and yeah.”

  Malachi shrugged awkwardly.

  “His father made it,” she admitted. “For Mimi.”

  Her grandparents’ marriage bed. The one thing her grandmother wouldn’t sell when they’d first had to put her home on the market as she transitioned into the senior living facility. Mimi practically forced Gracen to take it—the size had been her one complaint—but she was grateful now.

  It fit perfectly.

  Malachi looked at the bed with new eyes. “Shit, that old, huh?”

  “Doesn’t look like it, right?” She winked as she crossed the room to place the napping kitty on the end of the bare mattress. Maybe it was the full belly and warm skim milk, but he didn’t stir when she put him down that time. “Don’t worry, though, the mattress and whatnot is ... all new.”

  His guffaw did jostle the kitten a bit.

  Only enough to make an ear twitch.

  “It’s in great condition.” Malachi gestured at the space in ge
neral, adding, “But all of it’s amazing. They were talented guys—people you try to learn from if you can.”

  His words struck her in the heart in a way he couldn’t possibly know. Not because he praised the skills of her family—he’d done that very thing from the moment he walked into the house—but it was a sad reminder that those people she loved would never get to meet him, either.

  That was hard in a different way.

  A new kind of grief she didn’t expect despite grief-counseling as an angry teenager where the kind woman with a soft voice had explained it would get better, but her pain would also change over time. Why had it taken her this long to realize what that woman meant?

  Because she was happy?

  Why did it have to hurt when she was happy, too?

  “You know,” Gracen said, hoping the thickness of her emotions had cleared from her voice, “we should check the barn because the previous owner said they never really did much with it but storage. My dad did everything out there.”

  Malachi’s whole face brightened. “There might be old stain cans out there.”

  “Could be.”

  “I’ll put that on the list,” he assured.

  He was already making a list.

  For her.

  Everything he did wound her tighter into his grip, and he probably didn’t even realize it. She was starting to hope that might be what the universe was trying to tell her. He was the one thing, for her, that should be seamless. A flawless fit.

  Malachi had whistled and swore over the crown molding in the lower rooms and every hardwood floor. The woodwork on the walls were made of interlocking, diagonal planks her father had hand planed, sanded, and stained all himself. All under the direction of Gracen’s mother who had loved the country and primitive look before that really became a modern thing.

  All the wood made the place a little dark if not for the tall, big windows rounding the four corners of the home and several light fixtures in the same rustic style. The bottom floor looked out to the wrap-around porch and the quiet scenery beyond.

  Her dad never did get the chance to continue his work upstairs, though the walls and floors were finished, because the accident happened first.